Ascension (31 page)

Alu peered through his mask of porcelain at Rabisu's numerous wounds. “So you still walk among us, and for that much I can be grateful to our Lord; for I still want the opportunity to destroy you myself. What now brings you here? After your sound defeat at the hands of our Lord, I'd expected you to flutter off to wallow in self-pity.”

“Then you expected wrong,” Rabisu retorted, wandering inside the office and toward its window. “He saw fit to present me with another opportunity. So that I might one day fare a better match. It has always been the way with Namtar; nothing more than a game.”

“How dare you speak of my lord, Namtar in such a brazen manner,” Justin scolded, pointing his finger. “He is a spirit of great ambition, and intends to reinvent the world in his own image.”

“There is no point in taking offense,” Rabisu responded, annoyed that this petulant child had the nerve to chide him for his behaviour. “What you speak of sounds more like the words uttered of his son. I have come to believe your lord has only ever had one agenda; to fight the strongest, and validate his claim as the only fit being alive to rule over Atlantis.”

Justin howled, his voice sounding as if he were a wounded pup. “I cannot believe you'd compare our lord and Anubis in the same breath.”

“So…who's the one to deal with this young pair of Indigo's? Rabisu questioned, salivating at the prospect. “Am I to wait my turn? Or am I to challenge both Lilith and Alu for the right?”

“Your ego knows no bounds Rabisu. Have you failed to notice the time of day?” Alu scathingly asked him. “When the sun sets and I'm surrounded by shadow, my spells are all the more potent. And as of right now, my naïve and most foolish Reaper, you can barely sustain your balance.”

“Yes, because that certainly worked in your favour when I last overpowered you and your sister. And that was with minimal effort on my part,” Rabisu snapped, despite knowing full well he'd yet to properly heal. “Even in my current condition, it'll take more than your cheap parlour tricks to defeat me.”

“I've heard enough. Alu, we shall proceed as planned,” Justin declared, and as though he believed he was Namtar himself. “Rabisu; if we are to fail, only then will you have an opportunity at redemption.”

Not only did Rabisu find it insulting to be issued with such an order from a mere child, but this arrangement didn't bode well for him. As it now stood, Rabisu ran the risk of missing out on what could prove an invaluable source of energy. For he knew there would be nothing left if both Alu and Lilith were to succeed. But alas, he had little choice in his current physical state. With his strength greatly depleted from the fight with Namtar, he needed time to recover and think about his next course of action.

“Alu, have you learned something interesting from infiltrating Ms Hawthorne's mind? Do you believe that these revelations will serve my purpose?”

“It's certainly possible,” Alu replied. “Once she learns the truth, she'll have no choice but to join us. This will indeed be my finest work of art to date.”

“Then let it be so,” said Justin.

“Patience my young Indigo, for once I have them ensnared in my spell, it'll be well worth the wait,” Alu assured him.

“Katherine…,” he heard Monica mumble.

Alu hissed at Monica as she groaned amidst her feeble attempts to break free. “Still she struggles…I've already told you there is little use in struggling.”

“There are many ways to overcome the bindings of the mind,” she softly murmured.

Alu lightly tapped at the forehead of his porcelain mask. “I've heard someone say that before…that's right…, how could I forget? Your colleague had proclaimed something similar. That is…, before I broke him.”

Rabisu looked on as Alu strolled toward a large cabinet that rested against the far office wall, and nearly pried the doors from off its hinges. A loud scratching noise swiftly followed once its doors had swung open. For inside the cabinet he could see the unsound and tormented figure of a man in his mid-fifty's, writhing about in a ball, mumbling incessantly, and clawing away at the polished wood.

The frail and crusted man shrieked. “Please, you must keep the door closed.”

“David…, what have you done to him?” Monica questioned, mortified.

“In the physical sense, this man yet lives,” Alu responded. “But his mind has withered, and his spirit is broken.”

“You spoke of some revelation serving your purpose…, what exactly did you mean?” Rabisu asked the young Indigo, seeking to obtain an understanding of their plan.

“I intend to persuade this organisation's most recent recruit to join me; for I have a vested interest in her development.”

Rabisu peered down at Justin, seeing his prospect to obtain more energy slipping even further away. “Care to elaborate?”

“I don't,” Justin replied, much to Rabisu's disconsolation.

“Namtar…,” Monica whispered. “Why now would he send his Reapers after us?”

“Your organisation has proven to be more than a nuisance for him in the past,” said Justin, as he glared down at her. “Now, and with the emergence of these two young Indigo under your employ, my Lord deems it wise to rid himself of any further interruption.”

“Then Namtar should have rid himself of us when he first had the chance,” she coldly responded.

Rabisu also found himself in agreement with these sentiments. For he was determined to make Namtar regret his decision to let him live.

You've given me one last chance, but don't expect that I'll be so forgiving when the tables are inevitably turned,
he thought, standing before the window and staring down at the asphalt below.

Chapter 25

“The winged Corrupted…,” Blake mumbled, as he gazed off toward a distant block of classrooms. “I can also sense Monica's energy is waning.”

“Both officer's Harkin and Spears are already in pursuit,” Lance told him, glancing down at his wrist communicator.

Blake lowered his brow. “Harkin and Spears? That isn't nearly enough to handle whatever Corrupted might await them. Let alone the winged Corrupted…”

“They are to wait upon my orders before proceeding,” they heard Walter proclaim across both their wrist communicators. “Once you've rescued Senator Gates, you're both to head for their position.”

“Understood,” both Lance and Blake responded in unison.

Blake sighed, as he watched a light breeze push litter across an empty basketball court. “It was nice of the Corrupted to choose the weekend. I shudder to think on how stressful it would be to ensure the safety of so many students, let alone also having to defeat both of these Corrupted. Then there is the little issue of controlling widespread panic that might ensue without the support of both Kishar and the Senator…”

“I've never known you to think beyond blindly dashing into any given conflict,” Lance replied. “Are these the early signs that you might assume greater responsibility?”

“Oh you're a riot. I've never known you to speak with such wonderful wit,” Blake snapped, pressing closer to the school's gymnasium.

Stifled by the heat, he wiped the sweat from his brow. “When did I ever say it was in jest?”

Although the day had shifted into the early hours of the evening, the warm conditions of the desert had not yet cooled. Lance could feel a warm wind brush up against his heavy attire, causing the material of his uniform to cling against his back.

“Are you sure you're up to this?” Blake asked him.

“I'll be fine.”

But as he continued to perspire from the heat and the paralysis from his recent skirmish with the Corrupted making his every movement an arduous task, he had grown concerned that he'd prove a liability to their cause. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden on his brother.

“I worry about you,” Blake told him, as Lance limped to the gymnasium. “You've always been too stubborn for your own good. You should turn back and get some rest. You'll only end up getting in the way otherwise.”

“What's the matter? Afraid I might cramp your style?”

“More like you'll get yourself killed,” said Blake, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing. “These are not your average Corrupted.”

“I'll be fine. It's not like I really have a choice anyway. You need me, little brother. I've seen what both these Corrupted are capable of…”

Blake laughed “Need you? How are you going to be of any help when you're struggling to even walk in a straight line? Besides, Kulullu and I can handle them.”

“I thought you said these weren't your average Corrupted,” Lance reminded. “You're over confident. Don't let it be your undoing.”

“And you're beginning to sound more and more like Walter,” Blake replied, before his attention shifted onto a trail of insects marching toward and beneath the gymnasium's front doors.

“Quit bickering you two,” Walter grunted through their wrist communicators. “We might as well sound an alarm to let them know that we've arrived…”

As more operatives converged on the gymnasium, they went in search of an alternate entry point. Not wasting any time, Blake had already boosted himself up and was on top of its roof.

“You think we can squeeze through?” Lance asked, once Blake reported he'd found a window.

“Negative, I can't even see through it. And there's some kind of black sludge that has it fastened in place.”

“Come back down then. We haven't the time to waste, we'll just have to risk it,” Lance decided, hobbling toward the entrance.

“And walk straight into one of their traps? Sure, why not? It'll make things more interesting. This might even bring me the sort of training I've been craving for.”

As they now stood before the gymnasium's entrance, two extra operatives stepped forward. Composed and resolute, the pair carefully pried the gymnasium's stiff and heavy doors open.

“Make sure that you are prepared,” Lance warned them, as he proceeded to lead the way inside.

But once they'd passed beyond the gymnasium's entrance, the doors had suddenly closed behind them, leaving the group both blind and disoriented in the darkness. Blinded, Lance sought to rely on his other senses. He crept about within the space, attentive to the sounds that surrounded him; he could hear a buzzing noise from the rapid beating of little wings, the shuffling of tiny feet, and the gnawing of little fangs. Then there were the various and opposing odour's ranging from incredibly sweet – Blake half expected to find Kishar tearing about the space on a sugar high – to extremely foul – akin to rotten meat. Before long, the uneasiness brought on by the conflicting scents had escalated into fear. Lance felt a plethora of little legs and tiny mouths scraping against the bare skin of his arms. Not willing to endure any more of this without the use of his eyes, Lance sought to retrieve a flashlight from his vest.

“I can't move my legs,” he heard one of the other operatives cry out.

Lance also found himself stuck. He flicked the switch of his torch and directed its light to his torso. He gasped, as he found thick and translucent strands were now wrapped about the lower half of his body. “We've been walking within a web.”

The lights of the gymnasium violently flickered, and then all the operatives came to learn the cause of their ensnaring.

“It is through the silk of Uttu that my children construct their home,” proclaimed a horned corrupted before a podium.

“You mustn't struggle,” Lance cried, as he saw many operatives frantically attempt to tear free of the webbing.

For moments prior to his warning, he himself had sought to wriggle free, only to feel these webbed strands tighten. But it then became apparent to him why these usual steadfast operatives were now behaving in a panicked frenzy, for his eyes soon locked upon the thousands of little black spiders that scurried toward him. With pale skull-shaped patterns painted upon their bulging abdomens, he tussled to knock them away and off his person. Other operatives about him also thrashed with whichever limb remained free, or whatever weapon they could muster, all in a forlorn effort to prevent them from biting. But with so many climbing along the restraining webs, it was impossible to avoid them all. He soon felt a sharp piercing bite of one spider on his wrist; its fangs dug so deep it scraped the bone. He let out a shrill cry, for the pain was excruciating, and he could sense that poison had started to circulate.

All the while, he heard the horned Corrupted cackle hysterically at the operatives ensuing misfortune. But despite the throbbing of his arm, and the screech of this wretched creature toward the gymnasium's end, his attention rested upon his younger brother. For Blake and Kulullu, both also bound in the webbing, merely glanced back at the Corrupted seemingly unimpressed.

“You appear remarkably composed for one who is about to die,” said the horned Corrupted. “If you haven't yet come to realise, my children are highly poisonous.”

Blake sighed, and he casually blew at the spiders that approached him. “I'm actually a little offended that you think that spiders would scare me.”

“Believe you me; this is just a humble beginning. I have much more in store for you,” the horned Corrupted rebuked, caressing her pale abdomen with both hands about.

As she proceeded to rub more rigorously, a spiralling collage of colour formed on the surface of her skin.

“Come out my child,” she cried. “Spread of your wings and take flight.”

With the pattern formed, the many twists and zigzags of colour that ran across her skin were flaking and taking shape. The pattern soon revealed itself to be that of a giant, moth-like arachnid. The creature's wings slowly parted from the Corrupted's flesh and fluttered in the air. Lance could only watch as the flying monstrosity swiftly arose from the Corrupted's belly and quivered beneath the gymnasium's lights. As it hovered high above, he watched as it shed a powdered substance. Like stardust, this powder trickled down on them, bathing the remaining spiders, and causing the webbing to glisten within the light. But such beauty came with a hefty price: Lance heard the shrieking of many operatives as the dust eroded the fabric of their uniforms, and branded their flesh.