Impact: Regenesis Part 12

Drake chuckled. He then asked Sho in j.a.panese, ""

He nodded. ""

Drake nodded. ""

"Excuse me," Barry Sanderson interrupted them, "Unless I'm mistaken, it's still the middle of the work day and you two should be working and not discussing gossip."

Drake smirked and tried to hide his laughter alongside Sho. He rolled his eyes and said, "Sure thing Barry, no more j.a.panese gossip."

Barry nodded as authoritatively as he could. "Good, now get back to work."

12:17 PM.

Lake Forest Park, Was.h.i.+ngton The police arrived shortly after Jordan's call. They slowly collected the account of the attack from each witness, though the event perplexed the authorities. What confounded them more so were the murder weapons; the jagged blade the a.s.sa.s.sin used to slice through Crystal's throat was nothing more than a broken and sharpened shard of a CD, AC/DC's Back in Black, to be specific. The weapons thrown into the young construction worker's neck were also sharpened CD's of other cla.s.sic rock artists. Initially the police believed they had a lead, as the killer left his credit card at the register before he killed Crystal, though the credit card belonged to Nick's brother Victor. Nick told the officers that it was his brother's card and that his brother was killed only a few days earlier. After they crosschecked with the Both.e.l.l Police Department and confirmed his brother's death was true, they ruled his brother out as a suspect and were left with no other clue than the name left behind and the description of the man.

While Jordan gave his account to the police, Nick and Amy sat outside of the mall as they waited for her mother to arrive. She still shook, even though someone gave her a blanket to keep her warm and the murder happened nearly an hour earlier. The slaying repeated in his mind and Nick guessed it wouldn't leave hers either. He glanced at her and tried to read her vacant, hollow expression.

Nick cleared his throat, frowned, and asked her where she attended school.

Amy blinked a few times before she left her trance. She looked at him and asked him what he'd said.

"What school d-do you go t-to?"

She slowly answered, "Inglemoor."

He nodded. "I go to Both.e.l.l," he told her. "What's y-your f-favorite cla.s.s?"

"My writing cla.s.s."

"D-Do you want to become a writer then?

Amy shook her head, "No, a journalist." She stared at him and asked why he asked her those questions.

Nick sighed, "It's s-something a friend of m-mine taught me. He said-He told me about distracting someone after th-things that shock people t-to t-take their m-mind off it." He looked away from her and apologized, "I-I-I'm not v-very good at this."

He looked out at the cars in the lot and noticed his motorcycle a ways off from the rest of the vehicles. Nick recalled the first time he saw it with his brother. It was shortly after their mother pa.s.sed away and for some reason Nick felt like he needed one. It was one of the newest and fastest models on the market, and although he wanted it, he knew he couldn't afford it. But Victor surprised him with it only a week later and said it was paid in full. Nick never learned who paid for it, as he and his brother hardly had enough money between the two to keep their home in order. But he was grateful, even after he tried to convince Victor to return it.

"What's your favorite subject?"

Nick blinked. He glanced back at Amy, who didn't meet his eyes, but repeated the question. Nick took a breath and told her that he liked English.

"Are you a junior?"

"N-No, a senior. What about you?"

"I'm a junior."

Amy finally looked at him and Nick knew she was still terrified. She s.h.i.+ed away though, not wanting to stare, and then asked, "What's it feel like to ride a motorcycle?"

He paused and examined the motorcycle helmet that rested between the two of them, something he'd forgotten about entirely. "It f-feels freeing," he told her. "Sort of."

"'Sort of?'" she echoed.

He tried his best to smile and simply said it reminded him of things he wasn't always prepared to face. "What do you do? F-F-For fun, I mean."

"I like to spend time with my friends," she said. "We usually go to the mall, go bowling, see movies...How about you?"

Nick tried to think of what he and his friends actually did when they hung out, since to him it always felt as if they didn't do anything. "Movies, camping, v-video games..." he wished he hadn't said the last one, but continued on anyway, "My friends like to throw a lot of parties...I only go because I-I-I think they w-want me there though."

"You don't like parties?"

He shook his head, "Not really. I feel out-out of place. They m-make me uncomfortable."

"Yet you go because you want to make your friends happy? That's sweet."

He looked away from her and mumbled his thanks.

"Why don't you like parties?"

"They make me feel alone," he told her. "M-My friend Drake's got a p-party coming up, I'm-I'm going b-because it's a friend's farewell. They h-have fun, but I-I'll just sit and try n-not to act so shaken."

Amy frowned. "Won't you know everyone who's there though?"

Nick cracked a smile and tried to explain how elaborate Drake's parties were. He told her about how Drake would rent out a club in Seattle and fill it with just about anyone he could get in contact with, and Drake's list of contacts breached the thousands, though only half of that resided in the Seattle area.

A gray sedan slowly crept up toward the front of the lot and Amy immediately recognized it as her cue to leave. She thanked Nick for his help, "I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here." Nick struggled for an appropriate response and eventually mumbled that he was happy he could help. She started to leave, but stopped and asked, "Um...What's your number?"

He reluctantly gave it to her, but asked, "Why do you want it?"

Amy smiled, "I just..." she took a breath, "I know who I can talk to now."

Nick wasn't sure what to say. Amy gave him a brief hug and left him there as she walked off to meet her mother. Once she made it inside her car Nick saw her break into tears. He could only sit there and wait for Jordan to join him though. He wanted to help her more, but all he could do was watch her drive away.

August 18th, 2029 8:36 PM.

London, England Jason ran up the stairs to his one bedroom apartment where Audrey waited for him, presumably irked. She's going to kill me, especially considering I stayed much later than I intended at the gym and I didn't even shower there. Why on earth do I do this? It always seems like a night out creeps up and I ruin it by missing our reservation or I set Audrey off somehow.

He neared his room, apartment twenty-seven, and he retrieved his key from a tan duffel bag he carried, but he found, to his disappointment, that the door wasn't locked. d.a.m.n it Audrey, keep the door locked! This isn't the safest part of London by any stretch and I can't just run back here lickety-split to save you if something happens. Jason walked in, locked the door behind him, dropped his tan duffel bag in the entryway, and walked into his living area fully expecting Audrey to chew him out. However her attention was locked onto their television. A news broadcast played a report of earlier events of the day, which Jason nearly ignored until she asked if he'd heard the news.

At least she isn't mad. "No, what happened?"

"The Dafu tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate the American President today in Saudi Arabia," she told him.

Jason rolled his eyes. The Dafu, again? "Really? Hm...Well I'm gonna get in the shower,"

He rose to leave, but sat back down when he heard Jack Randles, the lead anchor, mention a video they were going to show. Randles continued, "Our film team was there to record the events and were able to send us video feed of the attack."

The screen flicked to an airport in Riyadh where the United States President disembarked from her presidential plane. The security detail which accompanied her scanned the small crowd that welcomed her. The president was hardly three feet from the plane before a loud crack pierced the cheers. One of the bodyguards near the president fell to the ground while the remaining men surrounded the woman. The camera followed the trail of smoke from the sniper rifle back to its source a top a nearby building. The camera then quickly panned back and showed a group of ten men, all with blades and a.s.sault rifles, who charged at the president. Additional sniper rounds tore through the a.s.sailants one by one until nine of the men were dead. The last one managed to kill two more of the president's guards before reaching her. However, as soon as the man took hold of the president, three rounds caught the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin in the skull. He fell to the ground and the chaos was over. The president was rushed away and the footage ended.

The television broadcast returned to Jack Randles, who continued, "An investigation into the attack and the hole in President Monroe's security led to the discovery of the deaths of all the rooftop guards placed throughout the airport earlier in the day, presumably executed by the members of the Dafu. However, as seen in the footage, one sniper indeed saved the president's life and until only a short while ago his ident.i.ty remained uncertain. We have received confirmation that Strom Trenor, better known by his alias, Ghost, was at the site and indeed saved President Monroe's life."

Holy s.h.i.+t...

"For those of you who do not know, Strom Trenor is a world renowned a.s.sa.s.sin known to have murdered over thirty major political figures in twelve nations in the past sixteen years. His total body count is unknown, though it is estimated to be roughly one-hundred and fifteen. Evidence found on the rooftop where Strom is believed to have been was a.n.a.lyzed and confirmed to be authentic."

An image of what initially appeared to be a standard playing card, with the exception of a large 'G' scrawled in blood at the center of the card. Each of the corners where the traditional 'A' would be was replaced with a printed letter 'G' as well.

Randles continued, "This is the trademark card left behind at each of the a.s.sa.s.sin's appearances. The card is authentic and matches previous cards left behind by Trenor. It is unknown at this time whether Trenor or the members of the Dafu killed the rooftop guards, though the execution of one of President Monroe's personal security detail is presumed to have been done by Trenor. Should autopsy and ballistic a.n.a.lysis prove him as the killer of the other security members, it would give reason to a.s.sume that the snipers originally placed as security were in fact in league with the Dafu from the beginning." Randles adjusted some of his notes and changed topics. "The remains of a young woman were uncovered today in Twickenham. The skin of her entire right arm appears to have been surgically removed at the location of"

Audrey shut the television off. She looked at Jason and asked if the a.s.sa.s.sin Jack Randles spoke of had ever been in London before. Of course he has Audrey. He studied her and saw the fear in her eyes and then simply told her to put it out of her mind. "Trenor, Ghost, he is a very high profile murderer. He only ever targets people who pay him very large sums of money to do their bidding. There's nothing to worry about."

"How dangerous is he?"

Jason wiped off the corners of his lips and told her he wasn't sure there was anyone more dangerous out in the world. "His track record is legendary, to say the least. You heard how many kills he has, but they didn't go and mention that he's only ever been sighted three times since twenty-eighteen. To my knowledge he's never missed a shot, never had a target he couldn't kill, and is guessed to have slaughtered entire villages in Africa to support various warlords in different nations."

"That's terrible."

Of course it is! That b.a.s.t.a.r.d butchers people and makes a d.a.m.ned living off of it. Jason took a moment to contemplate continuing on their topic but decided to share something more, "He had a target about seven years ago where he couldn't manage to find a vantage point he knew would offer him a killing shot, so in lieu of that he stalked his target to his home, shot him in the chest, and locked him in the man's own bas.e.m.e.nt...His target bled to death before the guy's wife returned home and discovered his body and the calling card."

Audrey placed her hand on his back, "Jason, how do you know all of that?"

There you go Jason, worrying her like that. You can't bring bad memories and ghost stories in here. She's supposed to feel secure, safe here. Jason shook his head and smiled, "It was in the news then and it just sort of stuck with me." He checked the time and told her he needed to shower and ready himself quickly if they wanted to make their reservation.

"Okay...but are you okay Jason?"

He continued to smile and a.s.sured her that he was fine. "Don't worry honey." Jason kissed her on the cheek and left to take his shower. Audrey turned the television back on just before he closed the door and turned on the faucet.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d saves the president? What's behind that? It's not like he hasn't taken protectorate jobs before, but never to this degree...and who would have known the Dafu would be waiting there?...The Dafu. Another bunch of rotten people. Jason stripped out of his sweat soaked clothes and stepped into the shower. They're just as vile as Ghost, if not more so. Killing women, children...and no one knows where they are? That's got to be a lie. Dafu's a Chinese word, one of my coworkers told me. He washed himself and scowled at the tiles on the wall. Though, the people who attacked the American President were not Chinese, not even Asian. And they looked European...A long ways away for anything like that.

Jason wrapped up his brief bath and toweled himself off quickly before he returned to their living room. He pa.s.sed Audrey on his way to their bedroom, though she hardly glanced away from the television set for more than a moment. She's addicted now...Great. I hope this doesn't occupy her for the whole evening. Jason dropped his towel and dressed himself in silence while Jack Randles continued the report on the incident.

Chapter 6.

August 19th, 2029 11:06 AM.

Both.e.l.l, Was.h.i.+ngton Rachel stood idle behind the counter at the small cafe she worked at. The Calming Wake had been her steady employment throughout her high school career. She was originally a somewhat frequent customer before she applied for the job when she turned sixteen. It appealed to her because the pay was decent, the drinks came at a discount, and the work was relatively easy for her, which was perfect, as Rachel had never been accused of overachieving.

The Calming Wake had its usual customers and a healthy amount of fresh traffic that supplemented its need to survive in such a coffeehouse saturated urban environment. Rachel had fond memories of weekends with friends at the coffee shop, along with a few first dates and late night study groups too; she wasn't sure what drew others to the Calming Wake though.

There were only three customers in the store, one couple and one young man who sat alone at one of their few tables. This young man had two drinks with him, two ice waters. He wore a tight fitting, gray tee s.h.i.+rt with one vertical stripe on the right side of his s.h.i.+rt that crossed over a red star over his heart. A pair of black and red shorts completed his outfit. The boy sat forward, with his hands clasped.

A quiet chime signaled the entry of another potential customer. Rachel turned apathetically at first, though a smile caught her lips when she discovered her boyfriend. Jordan walked up to her, leaned across the counter, kissed her, and asked when she would be on break.

"Let me just tell my manager and I'll meet you at one of the tables, okay?" she told him.

Jordan wandered off toward the back of the cafe and sat with his back to the rest of the store. After a moment Rachel joined him, greeted him with a kiss, and took her seat across from him.

"How are you?"

Jordan shrugged, "The same, I guess."

"Why are you even here?" she asked with concern. "You've got to be horrified."

"I am," he told her, "But I can't just hole up in my room and hope this all goes away..." he looked at the floor and frowned, "I-I can't get the sight of it out of my head."

"I'm sorry."

Jordan ignored her sympathies. "I wonder how Nick's doing though."

"Why?"

He looked at her, "He was there when it happened."

Her heart sank. "You've got to be kidding."

"Not one bit."

She cursed under breath and rubbed her eyes. "That kid's got terrible luck."

Jordan sadly agreed. "I wish he wasn't in such a terrible streak of...of whatever. I mean his mom died back in July, now his brother, then he witnesses that murder," Jordan tried to catch his breath when he thought back to the event, but continued, "I don't know how much more of this he's going to be able to handle before he goes off the deep end...a.s.suming he hasn't already."

"Hopefully he has some kind of outlet for all of this."

"Nothing like we do."

"Nothing?"

Jordan shook his head, "His stepdad's a drunk and he doesn't want to end up like that. He doesn't touch anything at all. I've offered enough times but he always shoots me down. I wish he would though...it'd probably loosen him up."

The door chimed and a few people walked in. Rachel's coworker at the door held it open for the group and she recognized the last young man who entered. She perked up a bit and said, "That's the guy I met at Stipek Park last week."

Jordan looked back at the group and noticed the young man in the scarf, the long sleeved brown dress s.h.i.+rt, and black slacks. He asked her, "You mean the pale guy with the scarf?"

She nodded. "Hey," she continued to look at the pale young man and said to Jordan, "Wait here for a minute, okay?" Rachel left Jordan where he was and walked up to the young man, tapped him on the shoulder, and asked, "Hey, do you remember me?"