SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Virus

Chapter 1: "He Who Walks With Them

He stood and brushed the rain off his shoulder. It was raining hard, there were people bustling on the streets. He glanced down at his left arm; this was the arm where they had injected him. The pinhole that had been the needle hole was rotting, he did not have much time left, he had to hurry. He adjusted his hat, and began to run. Every step jarred his joints. He ran into an alley, boxes were scattered about. He kicked some as he ran. He broke onto the streets of Neo Young’land. Even at one in the morning there was a crush of people on the street. He looked nervously around, too many people he thought. He sprinted as fast as the crowd would let him to his destination.

There was really no time left. He ran, out of breath, up the stairs and through the door. The phone rang, he ignored it, and he ran to the bathroom, pulled out his vile of pills from the bathroom cabinet. Tossing one back and dry swallowing it, he looked down into the sink and watched both rain and sweat drop onto the porcelain. "This might be the too close call." He felt the catalysts in the pill ignite his veins burning like hydrochloric acid, he lurched to the floor retching in agony.

After the pain subsided he stood, sweat dripping from his brow. He showered and dressed. As he stood in front of the full-length mirror he saw what he had become. The black trench coat, the black suit and iridescent blue tie, the black gloves, and the stainless steel heavy-framed automatic in his shoulder holster. He pulled up his sleeve and looked, the limb would feel no pain or anything else. He thought of it as a symbol, so that everyone would know. He did not see it fit to mask his face, for that would have lent a darker quality to what he saw as a noble cause. His cause, his function, was to give his life in the service of saving others. He pulled back the slide on his forty-five magnum, and reholstered it. Another part of his function was to punish the man responsible for the pinhole in his arm. Dr. Lucifer.

He stared into the mirror, and saw that there was a man standing behind him, a kind expression on his loving face. He spun and looked behind him. No one stood in his apartment bedroom, must be the affects of the virus inside him. He looked through the window and opened it; he looked down. His mind was totally clear; he stepped out into space.

A two-story drop normally kills people; however, two awnings and a Dumpster broke his fall. He dusted himself off and looked in the ally. Neon signs lined the small side street. He looked far down the ally, across the street and into the next ally and saw what he was looking for. He made his way toward the bright neon green sign " Al's Surplus " it said. He walked inside.

Al was not a particularly handsome or wholesome individual. His large pork gut, and raunchy cigar, made him look what he was. The largest black market arms dealer in Neo Young'land. " What can I do you for? " He said leaning across the counter.

" Hey Mister? You gonna buy something? " He said.

" Huh, yeah. I'll take a set of Bravo Black TAC and a White Dragon Industries Super system. " He said. Al looked at him in surprise. That was a tall order " Anything else? " Al asked.

"Yeah, what do you have in the back? " Al tried to play dumb "What do you mean? All my stuff is up here. I..." Al stopped realizing he was caught. He took the man in the back and showed him. The entire back lot was full of illegal weapons. He selected a White Dragon Industries pre made kit, and went back to collect his Black TAC.

" How are you going to pay for all this? " Al asked looking at him.

" Here." He said, tossing a wad of bills on the counter. " Anything left over put on an account for me." He said as he was leaving.

" Hey! I need a name for the account! "Al said as the man was at the door. " Dark Angel." He said and left. Al stood puzzled for a moment, and then he greedily counted the money.

Back at his apartment he sat down at the edge of his bed and put his black TAC on. The uniform he had been wearing earlier lay neatly folded next to him on the bed. He leaned over to buckle down one of his boots and a serge of pain struck him broad side, lancing at his temples, and driving a cold frozen razor blade down his spine. He held his head in his hands for a moment, then continued buckling down his boots.

Al was putting the money away in the register when a group of military looking personnel came in. Al pressed the little button under the counter to lock everything down in the back room.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Al asked looking as polite as was possible for him.

A man stepped forward looking at the surplus and weapons around.

"We are looking for a man who..." He stopped looking to one Al's White Dragon Industries Systems. "How much for this?" He asked.

"Well, about eighteen thousand." Al said with a cheesy grin, knowing that there was not a better system in town. Or in the world.

"I'll take it... Now, as I was saying. We are looking for this man." He said proffering a wanted poster. Al glanced at it. There was no reward that he could see so he ignored it.

"Never seen him before. You want paper or plastic?" Al asked as he shoved the purchase in a dirty plastic bag.

"Thank you for your time." The man paid Al and turned and left, the others were following behind him. Al did what he was good at; he counted his money greedily.

The man took the White Dragon System out of the bag and through the bag in a trash can. He got into his APC and drove away. He knew that the man had been in there earlier. The viral spectrometer was ticking when they walked in. We are close... Very close.

Dark Angel stood and flexed in his new armor. It was a medium level suit system built for infiltration into highly armored urban areas. He did a few flexing and stretching exercises and found it was extremely comfortable. He sat down on his floor. Multiple weapons and bullets fitting each lay before him. He went about the time consuming task of loading each magazine. When he was done he holstered all the magazines in their proper pockets, the weapons he checked and cleaned thoroughly. He looked on a shelf at a picture. It was a bright day, and twenty men knelt in front of a sign that said "White Dragon Industries: Polar Bear Compound" He looked himself in the eye. It seemed so long ago. He was climbing up in the ranks. A Captain finally. He got his first command, nineteen men, given to him to look after and command. His first mission was so perfect they wrote a chapter of operations in the handbook. The all business no funny stuff attitude earned him a great reputation on the field. Off the field he was jovial, and a great friend.

He stood and looked once again at his weapons lying on the bed. He slung the assault rifle on his back; the shotgun would do for now, he could switch with out any trouble if things got hairy. He turned the shotgun side ways to read the engraving on the side.

"Corpsman and dear friend, Roy Montoya."

Roy had not died, he was still very much alive, having discovered the fountain of youth by accident he made a fortune. Before that Dark Angel had known him as a coworker at a linen company. He Duked his shotgun by spinning it around by the trigger guard, like the Duke would have, and headed for the door.

Al was on the phone.

"Like I said, he came in and bought a boat load of stuff, then opened a tab and left the name ‘Dark Angel’ for it… No, I think he’s legit, I can recognize one of those Gothic wannabes when I see one… No, he was tall though, he probably lifted… I don’t know around… 22? Maybe 23… Yeah, I’ll tell you next time he comes in. Yeah, ok, bye." And he hung up.

Dark Angel made his way down the hall of his apartment building, openly displaying the fact that he was well armed and capable of the use of the weapons he carried. He had grabbed an over coat before he left his apartment and draped it around his shoulders, but the G36C resting on his back was clearly visible when the over coat rested on it. Someone opened the door below and a draft flowed up the hall and caught his over coat billowing it like a cape as he walked down the stairs, he stopped on foot on the floor the other on the stair. The man that rounded the corner showed no surprise or any other emotion, he simply stood. They stood for a moment examining each other.

"Need a ride?" The emotionless man said. Dark Angel nodded.

They walked together down the stairs to a new Mercedes Benz 3000 series; the emotionless man clicked his key chain the car lights blinked twice and the passenger door opened. The emotionless man walked around to the other side of the car and opened his door. The man got in on the driver’s side and started the car.

The road was wet and the streetlights made yellow circles on the ground as they passed them.

"So how have you been?" Dark Angel asked. The man said nothing, simply raising one eyebrow and continuing to drive. Cody was not one to mince words. He simply did his job and that was that. It was not to be rude or impolite, it was simply his nature. He was well built; hard life and hard living carved a small chip in his shoulder. Cody made no secret of his dislike for liberals, radicals, and all left wing garbage; he kept a good eye on the political situation and climate of the world, and made a good living at it. He was well dressed, Armoni suit and a custom leather shoulder holster with a heavy classic Desert Eagle in it. Cody had carried it as long as Dark Angel had known him. They passed through the Neon District as it was commonly called. The neon signs in every language. English was not the most prevalent however. Over political correctness had made sure of that. Cody’s balled head reflected the light from the different signs, and his well-trimmed beard and mustache reflected light, like it had just been waxed. He looked like an Omish farmer, with the exception of the Desert Eagle.

They arrived in front of Lukas’ house. Lukas did not have a last name, when you said Lukas to anyone on the street they immediately knew who you were referring to, not only a good guy but a snappy house buyer too. Cody opened the door for Dark Angel, he stepped out onto the curb and looked up. One of the last sky scrappers left in Neo Young’land. The doormen held the newest line of assault rifles across their arms. When they saw Cody walking up the stairs they opened the doors with out a word. Inside it looked like a classic Hotel, the front desk was manned and the lobby was full. Dark Angel looked around, only a few years ago it had looked like a heroin den. The surprise showed on his face. Cody took a moment to explain.

"It’s a front. All the ‘illegal’ stuff goes on in the upper floors and the back. This gives us a good look for anyone not a junky or addict, or in Direct Line. We even get some White Dragon Industries’ executives in this place. The top man knows Lukas, I know him personally as well. This way please." He finished, and the receptionist waved them behind the counter and through a door. They stood in a small room behind the receptionists’ desk. The man behind the desk looked at Cody then pointed with a pen to a retinal scanner. Cody looked into it, it made a confirmation beep and he stepped away.

"Name?" The man behind the desk asked Dark Angel. The man behind the desk was well built black man with a small pin on his lapel and a tiepin, the barrel of some kind of twelve gauge poked up beside him behind the desk. Dress for success tip number one, tiepins are for losers. Cody glowered at the man behind the desk.

"Never mind go ahead, if Mr. Cody says you’re ok, then..." The man at the desk said and let it hang. Cody turned on his heel and went in a door that had not been there a few seconds ago. They stood in a bright white hallway. Cody briskly walked down the hall and opened a door that did not even look like it was there at all.

"After you." He said, proffering the door for Dark Angel. Dark Angel stepped inside. He saw Lukas sitting behind an enormous marble topped desk in a large leather executive chair. The behemoths on either side of him were Mark Three suit systems from White Dragon Industries, tank killers. Lukas raised one finger and pointed to a chair in front of his desk. Dark Angel sat down in it. Cody stood behind him and to the left.

"You seem well armed Alexander." Lukas said.

"So you remember?" Dark Angel responded.

"Of course I do!" Lukas said insulted that Dark Angel should even think such a thing.

"You were like a brother to me! You think I would forget a comrade, one of my officers? Never! All of my people know I would never…" He stood up and clenched his fist when he said this. He closed his eyes for exactly ten seconds. He regained his composure and seated himself again.

"Excuse my lack of composure." He apologized.

"You are excused." Dark Angel said with a slight smile. "My you have changed! From street clothes to a three-piece suit, and this…" He made a gesture with his hand to mean the entirety of the building. "How Lukas? And why not tell me?" He asked leaning forward.

"I’ll tell you why. But I will not tell you how." He said, leaning back. "When I was down, I stumbled blindly into WDI, I had more of a chance of being struck by lightening than getting this opportunity. The man himself drove through my neighbor hood." Lukas paused, seeming to remember it more clearly in his silence.

"He stopped in front of my house. He looked down at me and my daughter playing in the yard with her second hand toys, they were all I could afford. I was smart enough to realize that he was not someone to mess with. He extended his hand to me and said good afternoon. He said he was looking for someone he could trust, and that that someone was me." Lukas paused, looking into the distance. "And the rest is history." He finished, and redirected his attention to Dark Angel and Cody.

"Yeah, what's wrong with Alexander?" Lukas said looking at Cody, then back at Dark Angel.

Dark Angel thought on this a moment.

" It suits what I have become." He said finally.

"Just one thing." Where do you need to go?" Lukas asked.

"I thought you would never ask." Dark Angel replied. "I need to get a lift to the Blue Sector."