Igi
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Book 1 - Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2020-01-22 11:18:08 +0000 UTCAlbanian Gang Headquarters
Ziad stood in front of the burned-down mansion, looking at its charred remains. The abundant amounts of water the firefighters used to extinguish the flames, created black colored puddles everywhere. It was now evaporating in the morning sun and the smell of burnt things permeated the air. Nothing could be saved out of it on account of the blaze being too intense; helped by chemical accelerants—even bodies were turned to ash.
He really didn’t care about the people that have died here, in fact, Ariz Rama’s death put a smile on his face. Someone has eliminated one of the obstacles to his personal advancement plans and did him a great favor.
The day that Mr. Osmani took him under his wing was a turning point in Ziad’s life. He was just a street urchin, running around the Iraqi city of Mosul. One of the many orphans created by the war, sleeping in a hellhole that only by using over-active imagination could be called an orphanage. Most of the time if he wanted to eat, he needed to steal… or kill for it. Such was the way of life down on the bottom of existence—primal; only the strong survived, the weak ones had a short lifespan.
He still wasn’t sure why Mr. Osmani didn’t kill him that day, when he caught him stealing his wallet. Maybe he saw something in his eyes, something that wasn’t there. From that day, he had the best education money could buy, a parade of tutors and instructors teaching him everything under the sun. Use of weapons, martial arts, assassination techniques, drama classes… he absorbed everything like a sponge. Ziad had no intention of going back to his previous life, so he gave his best to excel at everything they threw in his path.
That is how he became the most successful assassin Mr. Osmani employed, by not allowing himself to have any doubt or mercy. Beyond everything, he considered himself more of a hunter; once he was set on someone's trail, it ended in bloodshed. It was easy to hunt down the prey; everybody had a weakness he could exploit. Most of the time he never attacked his prey directly, he went for the children, and once he got them, the game was over. It always surprised him what people would do for their offspring; even trade their lives for them. Ziad never left any witnesses; he never saw the point in doing something so foolish.
Lately, such a life was becoming too boring for him, there were no challenges anymore. And he wanted more out of life, which was why Ariz Rama was an obstacle in his path. Now, there was an opening in the power structure, and he was set to fill that vacancy himself.
There were others sent to investigate what happened here and to punish those who dared to attack the organization. He didn’t care about them; Ziad was a lone wolf and he had the advantage to beat them all.
It took him around five minutes walking through the dense woods to get to the specific tree. He climbed almost to the top and saw that it was still there, exactly where he left it. A small receiver for a recording device that was connected to the miniaturized solar charger for constant power.
He placed a recording device in Basim’s office some time ago. One of those high-tech models that you needed a magnifying glass to see. Only at night, in a very short period of time, a recording device would send a burst of files it collected in a compressed form, to this receiver. It was impossible to find, and the receiver could store months of data on a high capacity memory card. Basim was important to Ariz Rama, and he hoped to discover some of the incriminating secrets that he could use against Basim’s boss.
He went through some images on the receiver’s miniature screen, enough for him to see that he had hit the jackpot. Ziad mouth open with a predatory grin, this was his advantage and he would keep all this information to himself, his competitors could run in circles, for all he cared. When he executed the perpetrators, he would present their heads to Mr. Osmani. That would be enough to ensure a great leap in the ranks. All the way to his car, the grin never left Ziad's face.
It was time to hunt again.
***
Ozark Mountains
The Spaceship
Michael was sitting at a table Max built in front of the AutoDoc chamber, sorting through the list of names everybody provided for the AI, to run background checks on. It was surprising how many names were familiar to him, and the number of those that found themselves on several lists. He could have done this back at the cabin, but his father’s procedure was almost done and he was about to get out of the AutoDoc. Michael wanted to be here when his father opened his eyes.
Jack had already talked to some of his old army buddies and had scheduled meetings with several people that went through astronaut training. By all accounts, he hit the ground running. Jack didn’t tell potential recruits everything about the group, no spaceships or advanced technologies, but enough to peak their interest. It did help a great deal that he was able-bodied again, miraculously healed and looking immeasurably better. Not bound to the bed or a wheelchair, so, whatever he was selling, there were more than willing to buy. Max could have made his appearance much younger, but that would defeat the purpose and would be far too suspicious.
“Michael, he is waking up,” Max said.
He closed the recruits’ files, and entered the AutoDoc chamber together with Max’s hologram, just as his father’s eyes were opening.
“Hey Dad, how do you feel?”
The change in his father’s physical appearance was amazing. Before he went through the procedures, he was already looking healthier than when Michael came to visit him, but now—he was a personification of health.
The older man smiled. “Great actually, I don’t remember feeling this good for a long time, even before I was sick.”
“Good, Max here needs to perform some finishing calibration procedures with you, it won’t take long, and I’ll be waiting outside for you to finish,” Michael said and exited the room.
Less than ten minutes later his father and Max walked out of the AutoDoc chamber, with Max laughing at some joke his father made.
“It’s good to see you laughing again,” Michael said, having a quick flashback of his father’s condition a short while ago.
“Yeah, Max showed me the hologram of my body before the procedures, the size of that tumor was impressive. But not even closely as impressive as this new upgraded body of mine, as Max called it. But enough about me, your brother,” he looked at Max sitting beside Michael, “mentioned that you have a job for me, I’m all ears.”
“He's right, everyone has gotten their assignments tailored to their specific areas of expertise, and that’s exactly what I need from you dad, I need your help.”
Michael explained how he structured their organization, what everybody did and how it interlocked with others.
“As a scientist, you are more in touch with the scientific community than anyone else I know, and we will need those who are open-minded, who still crave to explore new paths. We will need physicists, biologists’, psychologists’, therapists, out of the box thinkers, and all those who will help us adjust to living in space-based colonies, and maybe on other planets in time.”
His father looked at him and nodded at appropriate times. “I can do that, as a matter of fact, for a long time now, my main job was that of an administrator, trying to find the right people for the right jobs, and make sure that all our researchers could perform their work undisturbed. Quite frankly, it felt like herding cats. I guess I had a knack for it because they kept pushing more responsibilities on me and if I’m honest about it… I kind of liked it.”
Robert Freeman's acceptance and speed in which he grasped these new revelations showed how quickly he could adapt to unexpected situations.
Michael continued informing his father. “We chose Genesis to be the name of our corporation, and right now, Anna is looking where it would be most convenient to open our corporate headquarters. I need you to recruit people and create think tanks, a bunch of them in fact, under our corporate umbrella. Each one should focus on a specific problem we are going to face: optimal living environment, psychological impact, theoretical space station designs, and any others you can think of. Since we cannot tell them everything yet, most of it is going to be from a theoretical point of view.”
His father nodded. “I can see where you’re going with all this, and I can tell you, it is not going to be easy. You are trying to design an entire society without anyone being the wiser, and in these kind of circles, where research is conducted, everyone suffers from an acute state of I need to know. So you had better prepare from the beginning for acts of industrial espionage, government agencies sniffing at your heels, and foreign agents gathering information. If they figure out what you are about to do, and that you have the technology to make it into a reality… they will come after us with all guns blazing.”
Michael acknowledged the advice; he had already heard before. “I know dad, we are taking precautions, but I don’t think we will truly be safe until we are way out of their reach. Until then, we have to do the best we can, and hope to keep everything a secret as long as possible.”
After a while, Michael left his father with Max so he could familiarize himself with the CEI and all the benefits his new body was capable of now.
***
The next week was one of the most exhausting as far as Michael could remember. It was not the same situation for everybody, Elizabeth and Anna were without any complaints, but the team and Michael did not have a minute of free time.
Anna was planning strategies with Max for establishing the most positive image of Genesis Corporation from the start, while Elizabeth and Alice were creating an intelligence network, using all their old contacts, and creating new ones.
Jack reported regularly with news of probable candidates and his father was away, reconnecting with old acquaintances and hiring them to work for Genesis Corporation. Some of the people he was targeting were brain powerhouses who could smell a good opportunity from a mile away. He often talked about how the scientific world was ruthless in certain ways and it was often that the dog eats dog rules were in effect.
While everyone else was working at a somewhat normal pace, Michael and the team were going through something entirely different. It all started on that day after his father woke up and Max called for a meeting where he informed them that they were not using the full potential of their upgrades. He apparently analyzed their actions while dealing with the Pincushion and his gang. The conclusion was that they should have moved more seamlessly and that their general effectiveness left much to be desired.
The knowledge and their training were there, but they were using only their old tactics and were in need of additional drills. To remedy that, Max has designed a series of exercises for them, and since their part would most likely involve situations that included the use of firearms, it was essential for them to be at their possible best.
Alice’s part in the training was the easiest; as a sniper, she just needed to be at the ideal position and wait for a perfect shot. With upgrades and her new eye-hand coordination, it was a foregone conclusion that her every shot would be perfect.
While Tyron, Pete, and Al maintained a decent physical condition, before the upgrades, Michael had some catching up to do. Just the same, everyone had a problem with being too fast, their reflexes to twitchy. They needed real-time tactical situations to correct that.
Max’s solution was a series of training programs using augmented reality, superimposed by their ocular implants, which essentially made them see things that weren’t there.
Of course, every such exercise was preceded by hours of physical training, running and martial arts sparring.
They went in the woods and for hours fought against enemies who could be seen only by them. If someone saw them, he would believe that he was dealing with a bunch of lunatics; running around the woods and pretending to shoot with gun replicas.
As fun as the augmented reality was at the beginning, and Max made it almost indistinguishable from the real thing, it became more difficult with every day. As fast as they accomplished one level of his training regimen, Max upped the stakes and made everything more complicated. It was like an ultimate video game; the main difference was when the enemy managed to shoot you it really hurt… a lot. The AI was using their CEIs to simulate pain, and he did a superb job.
***
Michael walked through the dense woods, placing his feet carefully on the ground to minimize the chance of being heard. He was approaching the enemy position, carrying in his hand a Colt M4 assault rifle, a model he was very familiar with. It was the sixth day of their exercises, and this was supposed to be next to the last enemy of the day or ‘The Boss’ as Al called it. Overlaid over his vision, the HUD gave information about a number of rounds he had and the map in the corner showed him the distance to the target and the position of every member of his team.
“I see four guards on the roof, they’re facing in your direction.” He used his CEI’s comms to speak to Tyron. Since the CEI could hear his thoughts, there was no need for using voice and potentially giving away their locations.
“I see them, Pete has an eye on them and the best angle. He will take them out when you give the word.” The big man responded in the same way.
The place they were attacking was a small stronghold, which Max, exercising his artistic liberties, placed right in the middle of the woods. It had a medieval look to it, but without the outside wall, which would prevent them from seeing inside.
“On my mark, neutralize your targets and be ready for the direct assault, use full speed.”
It was one of the tactics they almost perfected, by using their full speed, the upgrades allowed each member of the team to move much faster than ordinary humans, and get to the position where their enemies would not expect them.
Michael gave the signal and the sounds of gunfire erupted through the woods. Four targets on the roof were quickly dispatched followed by an additional eight adversaries all around the structure.
Michael started running, throwing a hand grenade into the narrow and tall opening he saw. He timed his entrance through the main door a second after the grenade exploded.
They cleared the structure, floor by floor, using the CEI comms and HUD overlays to be constantly aware of their teammates’ position and fields of fire. The entire exercise was executed flawlessly, almost to the very end. That’s where Al made an error in judgment and received several virtual bullet holes as a reward.
It was in the last unchecked room and he happened to be the point man that entered first. The room only had a big ornate bed in the middle, with the exception of a beautiful naked girl lying on it. It was the last thing one would expect to see in there, and it was somewhat understandable why Al lowered his gun and smiled like an idiot. The girl pulled a gun from beneath a pillow and managed to fire a few shots in his direction before her head exploded when it was hit with the high caliber bullet, which Alice skillfully sent from a sniper’s nest, a few hundred feet away. In the end, it was an amazing shot since the room windows were extremely small.
The result was that Max deemed the mission a failure, and they were directed to a new starting position so the entire exercise could start again, with changed parameters of course. They couldn’t advance to the next level until this one was successfully cleared.
This was promising to be another long and strenuous day.
***
Michael closed his eyes when he realized where they were heading. This was supposed to be a celebration of completing the entire course Max created for them, and the way to unwind from the strenuous week—a boy’s night out, how the AI put it. Elizabeth, Anna, and Alice exercised their right to have a girl’s night out, by going to some establishment that for some reason did not allow men to accompany them.
Max arranged everything, told them to dress casually, and picked them up with the transporter. Now Michael was asking himself why he did not suspect anything? After all, this was something he himself would do.
Of all bars in the world, Max had to choose this one, a white supremacist bar filled with the entire biker gang of neo-Nazis, if he judged by the number of swastikas all over the place. And the team was led by a 7-foot tall man that exemplified everything the patrons of this establishment hated.
Before he could say anything, they were already inside, the sound the door made when it closed behind them had a certain finality to it.
Michael looked beside him and saw Al already rubbing his hands with a happy expression on his face. Pete was trying to figure out where to put his cell phone, so it would survive the coming events, and Tyron just stood there doing his best not to smile, except for the corners of his lips that were twitching a little.
“Well, since we’re here, we might as well get something to drink,” Michael said, while thinking, I am almost sorry for them.
They went confidently to the bar, disregarding the glowers, frowns, and hateful whispers.
“Four beers,” Tyron said to the barman.
The man who tended the bar was in his 20s, with several bad tattoos that screamed prison, and by Michael’s account, had no more than five remaining teeth in his mouth. He looked at Tyron, intimidated by the size of the man, and then looked at all the people in the bar whose general attitude gave him a confidence boost.
“We don’t serve your kind here.” the man snarled, pointing at the door.
“And what kind would that be?” Tyron asked pleasantly, eagerness for the answer recognizable in his voice.
The bartender was confused for a moment, opening his mouth like a fish on dry land.
“You know… your kind…” He replied, lost for words.
Al was obviously getting bored since he turned toward the spectating crowd, resting his elbows on the bar and addressed them.
“Listen up! We are doing research on tribal behavior and would like to ask you some questions. Is it true that all that tight leather you are wearing is actually a representation of latent homosexual urges, with emphasis on fifth base masochistic tendencies?”
Al stood there smiling and the blank stares pointing in his direction confirmed that they did not exactly get what he was talking about.
Fortunately, Pete was there to offer an explanation. “He asked if you are all bitches,” he said slowly but loudly, so there would be no chance of misunderstanding him.
“Thanks Pete,” Al said in the ensuing silence, while rolling his eyes.
“Buddy, you are quite welcome,” replied Pete with a self-satisfying smirk.
The results were easy to predict, almost everyone in the room surged like schools of hungry piranhas, bent on doing great bodily harm. Unfortunately for them, that was the wrong thing to do. No matter how bloodthirsty they were, Michael, Tyron, Pete, and Al were way out of their league. Even before the upgrades, they had a fair chance of winning this fight, no matter how one-sided the odds seemed to be. With the upgrades, the poor neo-Nazis didn’t stand a chance.
At one point, Tyron was using the barman as a baseball bat, holding his feet, and swinging him around. Pete and Al were having a contest of who would knock out the most men with one punch… it seemed Al was winning. Michael was concurrently enjoying the light workout by throwing a few men into the path of Tyron’s improvised bat.
They went easy on them. The gangs suffered a few broken bones here and there, and the dentist that had them as patients would easily be able to afford a new fishing boat, with all the work the team made necessary. The barman lost his remaining teeth, which could be looked at as an improvement considering that now he would have to use dentures, and they would be far more aesthetically pleasing.
With the whole place pacified, they decided that the atmosphere here really didn’t agree with them and that they could have a more relaxing evening sitting on Michael’s deck. As they were going out, Al grabbed a case of cold beers from the refrigerator behind the bar and left a $50 bill as compensation.
While they were flying back to the cabin, each with a beer in his hand, Michael used his CEI to talk to Max.
“I admit it was fun and all, but what was the point of the whole exercise?”
“Testing the team reflexes under real-world conditions… It was for science’ sake, I got no pleasure out of it whatsoever.”
The tone of his voice told an entirely different story.
Michael shook his head and took another swig of his cold beer.
Comments
My thoughts exactly. :)
:)
Danielle Warvel
I have to admit though, that while I’m not the violent type, if I was that badass, that would definitely be a group that I would not mind ruffing up.
Danielle Warvel
Ha! No pleasure whatsoever. Ssure max. Lets go with that.
