Mercenaries’ Tale – 4.21 Of Nightmares and Divinity
Gratin was sprawled across the cool grey marble floor, head ringing with anti-magic and the taste of blood in his mouth. His surroundings were unfamiliar, the walls made of dark stone, bright white crystals in sconces lighting the area. The large bulk of Dr Käsehändler was standing before him, facing away as he argued with the others in the room; identical twin sisters wearing lab coats, their blonde hair tied loosely back.
“You can’t! GR4 is my crowning achievement! Think of what we can still learn from him!” the doctor was pleading to the Sisters.
“GR4-71N is a liability. If it was not for GFS1-7GP then he would,”
“Have incinerated all of us! The only reason he,”
“Is not continuing to fight us now is because we,”
“Managed to repair the Anti-Magic Generator!” the two spectacled blondes argued as they completed each other’s sentences. Taking in the rest of the room, Gratin could see several burnt out husks that moments before had been Genetix Security.
Beyond them was a nightmare.
They had been human once, the two creatures watching from across the room. One was climbing down from a balcony, scaling the wall as easily as someone would climb a flight of stairs. It was female, its proportions betraying it’s human past despite the prehensile tail curving up behind her. She scuttled onto the floor and over to the larger male creature which was kneeling down guarding the entryway of this room. The two creatures embraced once close enough, the male wrapping his arms around the female who sat comfortably beside him, cuddling up close as she moved the rifle that had been strapped to her back onto her lap.
Both creatures were more or less naked, scales as hard as diamonds covering every inch of their bodies. A mass of quills flowed from the parts of their heads not covered by their headwear, the male’s ending at the shoulders whereas the female’s quills ended mid-way down her back. The male was a brown so dark it could be mistaken for black where as the female was a rusty red, freckles dotted across her face and shoulders. The male had the hint of a scar across the bridge of his snout. He also looked far more imposing, small horns sprouting from his forehead. Spiked plates ran down the length of his spine and tail, which ended in a ball of razor sharp spikes. His left arm looked as if it had been grafted on from a different creature entirely, the hand ending in a three pronged talon. He was built to be a deadly killer, his frame muscular and powerful.
The female was more streamlined by comparison, built for speed and dexterity. She wore gauntlets on her wrists which had projectile weapons mounted on them. The biggest difference between the two were the large, leathery wings that protruded from the female’s shoulder blades and folded around her like a cloak when she rested, gifting her the ability to glide. The spiked plating along her spine and tail were also shorter than the male’s but just as sharp.
Both wore helms that were screwed into their skulls, blinking lights illuminating the metallic surface.
“Please! We may need him yet! What if there are more locks-?”
“It is doubtful that the mages thought,”
“Anyone would make it passed the genetic lock on the,”
“Main door. Why would they apply such,”
“Stringent security inside of the Spire?” the sisters posited.
“We now have a back up of his DNA if you are worried,”
“Of the loss of your life’s work,”
“But for now it ends here. GMS1-7GP!” the male creature perked up as he was addressed, the female parting from him as he climbed to his feet.
“Dispose of Subject GR4-71N.”
“NOOO!” Käsehändler moved to block the creature’s route to the mage only to find a rifle aimed at his head, the female creature protective of her mate. Käsehändler backed off, his arms raised for fear of being shot. The male creature began to stalk towards the mage on the floor. He had a hunched gait reminiscent of a gorilla, his arms swinging at his sides, fists level with his knees.
Gratin found his voice.
“Please, I know you are still in there! Your behaviour towards the mistress is proof of that! You must fight whatever it is these people have done to you!” the mage pleaded. The creature continued on its way, claws extending from his right hand as his tail thrashed around in anticipation. He began to snarl, sharp fangs present within his mouth.
“McCracken!” the name had no bearing on the creature as it charged forward with a roar, the incredibly sharp claws swinging round towards Gratin’s face…
The mage awoke with a start, completely alone and face still intact. He was lying on a bench within a cold concrete cell. His brain prickled with a low level anti-magic field, a small generator visible beyond the bars that bisected the room. Gratin could only just sense it, the generator limiting the range of his senses to only a few feet beyond his cell. It came as a shock, therefore, when a voice addressed him from beyond his limited “sight”.
“Finally awake I see. And here I was expecting to miss a chance to speak with you before duty called me away once more…” it was a cold voice that Gratin did not recognise. Male and smooth with a tone that suggested the owner thought of themselves far more highly than anyone else around them.
“Who is there?” the mage asked, his blind eyes slowly sweeping over his surroundings. The voice’s owner laughed.
“Such a powerful creature and yet so frail… how does it feel to be left so incredibly… weak?”
Gratin grunted, extending a hand out as he tried to gather energy for a spell out of reflex.
“I’m warning you, whoever you are, that I am far from helpless-” there was a brief flicker of light in his open palm that spluttered into nothing, Gratin unable to hold the concentration required to summon a fireball. The mysterious voice sounded a little relieved as he next spoke.
“And I am warning you that you are at my mercy,” there were footsteps as the voice’s owner approached the bars. A human man; the vague shape of a bionic right eye and a slim build fuzzily left an impression on his limited senses. It wasn’t anyone Gratin recognised but there was something about the aura this man gave off that told him he should.
“Who are you? What do you want?” this summoned forth more laughter from the visitor.
“Forgive me but it has been so long since I met someone who did not know who I was. I am your new master, my dear genetic experiment, and you are going to help me achieve something truly… divine…” the reference was lost on Gratin.
“I serve no man and I am not a thing to be owned. I am a mage of considerable power and your use of this anti-magic field will not contain me forever,” warned the mage, Gratin in no mood to be played with. His head hurt far too much to attempt anything other than hostilities. The visitor only found this amusing.
“Hmm, yes, power. That is the topic of the day. You see, I have power, true power. Not fancy magic tricks but something tangible. I was born into it, moulded by it. Hardened and forged into something far above the lowly common man. I could eradicate half this City of Light with but a press of a button or send men to starve with the wave of a hand. I decide who prospers and who falls to ruin. Me. I am the most powerful man not only in this room but on this miserable little world and you are only still breathing right now because I permit it, do you understand?” realisation bloomed within Gratin’s mind, his eyes widening slightly as the dots connected.
“You are Silverton Salmanic?”
“Ah, it appears you were gifted with a modicum of intelligence. And I was worried that the Sisters had forged a vaguely sentient potato out of their stolen DNA packets…” Silverton sneered. Gratin could hear the click-clack of the bionic eye as Silverton examined the mage’s change in posture now he knew whom he was addressing, Gratin tense with an underlying fury, the mages trapped in the Power Plant burning across his memory.
“If you think I’ll willingly allow you to implant me in your Power Plant-”
“Hahaha oh please, like I would go to all this trouble for just another battery!” Silverton’s laughter echoed around the small concrete chamber, “no, no, you are my ticket to ascension: something I and only I have any right to claim!” Gratin had not the faintest idea what Silverton was talking about.
“Impossible. Only the gods have the power to bestow that sort of gift…”
“You are talking of the legend of Kraklag and Jehov, correct? Two siblings establishing rival kingdoms that the gods decided to use as the basis of a wager. The siblings found a way to outsmart the gods and as a reward ascended to become the gods of Light and Dark respectively, yes?” Silverton shook his head, a sneer still glued to his face, “that is a quaint fable but a fable nonetheless. I’m speaking of your true purpose,” the CEO took a moment to study the mage’s reactions, Gratin pressed against the opposite wall like a spring ready to be sprung if anyone so much attempted to open the door to his cage. Silverton found this nothing but amusing.
“You see you’re far from a random DNA packet that a bored scientist decided to resurrect on a whim: you are a key and I have every intention of introducing you to the lock you open…”
“…The so called Spire Doctor Käsehändler mentioned?”
“So the Doctor was gracious enough to inform you of at least part of your reason for being. Good,”
“Even if I did unlock this Spire you speak of, ascension rituals have never been successful. All that’s ever been left after an attempt are chunks of the fool dumb enough to try,” Gratin pressed, the mage far from amused.
“And yet the sire of your dear progenitor succeeded. All it takes is the right power source, believe me,” Silverton leant forward, his face pressed against the bars, “I am destined for power, it is my birthright. All I need is to assemble the right components for the ritual and we will be off. You have days at best before you too will be on your way to meet your destiny. So don’t get too comfy!” the business man backed off, cackling as he began to walk towards the exit. Gratin felt the need to get one last word in.
“My friends will come for me,” Silverton paused on the threshold, turning to stare at the mage over his shoulder, arrogance pouring off of him in waves.
“They can try. They will die. That is their destiny,” and with that, Silverton vanished from the range of Gratin’s “sight”, leaving the mage alone with his thoughts. Gratin sank back down onto his bench as he heard the door close, his mind racing through the fog of anti-magic.
“My friends will come for me. And they will succeed…” he reassured himself, determination settling in. His friends held little regard for destiny; they wrote their own and it no doubt was going to be far from what Silverton Salmanic was expecting…
Post by Sam | March 4, 2023 at 12:01 am | The Mercenaries' Tale | No comment
Tags: Anti-Magic, Dr Tilo Käsehändler, Gratin, Mad Science, Mutants, Salmanic Incorporated, Salmanic Tower, The Alexandretta Sisters, The City of Light, The Spire