《Hero delivered: Humanity not included》 Chapter 1; Natural Habitat. His knife''s grip felt fixed to his bodysuit''s glove. Textured material against textured material wasn¡¯t the sort of thing that most people thought about, but it definitely inhibited fluid combat styles that relied on changing your grip. Not the end of the world, just an inconvenience in distinct scenarios. The problem was when, with the cold sweat of adrenaline drenching you and the need to rend your enemy to shreds with sheer viscous violence, you forgot about it. It took barely a half dozen heartbeats to switch his mental gears for the task ahead. A covert operation bodyglove that screamed ¡®bad guy.¡¯ All his pre-op checking did was prove how lacking it was in both vital protection and almost any electronic suites. Body armor? Some stab-resistant padding should work. AR display? A basic scanning array is good enough. In truth, he shouldn¡¯t have expected much more if this was what he thought. Just another show to impress a buyer and get them to purchase a protectorate peacekeeping force. The best and cheapest available in genetically engineered soldiers. Safety was worth the regime. Not that politics and scheming interested him one bit. When your lifespan measured longer as a brain in a jar being force-fed training simulations and life-or-death competitions than with flesh and blood toes; it helped put things in perspective. Not a healthy perspective, he knew that, but Healthy minds normally cared about things like longevity and happiness. ¡°Agent, this is handler. Are you in position?¡± The crystal clear voice asked from his ear like a suddenly much too close battle brother. ¡°Yes.¡± was his simple reply. ¡°Have you been briefed on the performance you are to give the Coalition forces?¡± It was a woman. Or at least sounded like one. It could be a man, a team all speaking through the same voice filter, smart AI, or even a dumb one. Funny the things your mind clings to while trying to find any of the dozen little deadly things you¡¯ve missed. ¡°Eccentric vigilante. I¡¯m targeting a paramilitary group known for terrorism. A small number of hostiles. Never received psyche profile to adhere to.¡± Despite the rainwater pittling down around him he didn¡¯t bother enunciating any more clearly than normal. Despite the gaudy mirrored face plate, an absolutely astute addition to his assassin get-up, the headgear did filter the background noise well enough. ¡°One moment¡­¡± She responded. The moments passed by neither quicker nor slower as he waited. Though he did take the time to pull the black-camo netting he had from his belt to at least partially obscure his reflective faceplate. It was soaking wet. Just like everything else on him. ¡°Dossier lists your previous op history as aggressive, thorough, and quick on your feet. Side note lists warnings of unpredictability and instability when left to own devices. Your profile fits, no special instructions at this time.¡± Well, that was something he definitely didn¡¯t have the social prowess to dissect at any length. Probably best to just take the compliment ¡°Thanks.¡± He chuckled softly before rising slightly from his haunces. Enhanced muscular fibers and reinforced bones taking the strain of his prolonged crouch just fine. ¡°It''s nice to be appreciated, I hear. On your go, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°All subjects are accounted for, and surveillance is in place to capture the event. Proceed when ready, Operative.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. - - - - - - - - - - - - Crypt air filled every breath taken in the grim darkness of the necropolis. Every stone saturated with malignant evil, every torch flickering dimly with ill intent. Even the pathways were uneven, ready to stub the toes of any unfortunate heroes who came close. It was all part of the Dread Lich Incus Palatine¡¯s sense of decor. Not the fact that he¡¯d told all of the minions that kept the place clean to ¡®Find a new master¡¯ before handing them each a small chest of gold and immediately sitting on a stool in the least mildew-y part of the underground complex to become catatonic. Khaine was adamant that it was all about cultivating the perfect image for anyone that asked. Something between megalomaniacal ancient lich and¡­ Forgotten¡­ Cellar? He didn¡¯t need to breathe but he still found the act of blowing a long breath out from between his razor-sharp teeth calming. A segmented tongue ending in a jagged harpoon of bone running against the incisors of a lipless mouth. Then there were the missing eyes and nose, the oozing thorns that pierced the taut skin of his shoulders, menacing claw-tipped fingers, dull and scale-like skin. The least terrifying part of his anatomy was probably his lower half. Someone had once said it was ¡°Like a Satyr who just really liked kicking stuff.¡± They had been fun to kick. Khaine sucked his tongue back into his maw before continuing to walk calmly towards the least mildew-infested part of the dungeon. Only stubbing 3 of his 4 taloned toes errant paving stones on the way. At least the light pain did something to distract the magical beast from how much trouble he might be in. Was in. Him and his lazy lord. It took longer than he¡¯d liked to finally find the room his lord had decided to take his rest in. A desolate pantry, with more wooden bowls and cutlery than food. If one didn¡¯t include the fat, sleeping rat on the table then the catalog for food was simply grim. His tongue slipped from between his teeth again to lick them sensually. One hand slipping forward silently towards the little rat. It woke with a little squeak. Doing almost the absolute minimum to escape him even as the back of his razor sharp claws brushed against it. The moments passed with him just petting it until the fat little rat finally laid down to accept the attention being forced onto it. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where the lord is, hmm?¡± His words slipped from between his teeth with utter stillness. With both effort and annoyance, the rat got up again to scuttle over towards the edge of the table. It laid back down happily, small nose pointing to one of the chairs. Khaine took the chair in with his blindsense until noticing the difference between it and the others around the table. Another long sigh left his lips as he popped a small fruit into his palm. Mana bleeding from the freshly conjured food as he set it beside the rat. He plucked the chair up to leave the room as the small rat happily ate it¡¯s meal. Before leaving the room Khaine turned the chair upside down to reveal the skull of his lord fixed under the seat. He truly was a master of his favorite pursuits. Sleeping and evading work. Chapter 2: A casual dialogue on current affairs Khaine carried the chair through the silent hallways without complaint. Much complaint. Khaine refrained from loudly cursing his lord¡¯s contemptuous idiosyncrasies. He freely grumbled through the half dozen languages he knew as he walked. The weight of the chair was a constant reminder of the problems that were to come when Palatine¡¯s domain pleaded for a taste of real oversight. Not the hands-off carelessness that had let things so rapidly devolve from their golden age. ¡°At least stop bouncing me around. It is making me nauseous.¡± Words laced with unused power groused from the skull. Despite the stupidity of the situation and his own ill mood Khaine was not nearly blind enough to irritate Incus any further. ¡°Apologies, my lord.¡± He retorted with a cold flatness most diplomats fell into with him. After the fear and knee shaking finally abated, anyhow. Despite the bone-chilling silence, Khaine couldn¡¯t find a good way to get a conversation moving. Resorting to the courageous role of chair steward until his feet finally found their way to the throne room. The large crucible of a room filled with tapestries and relics. Stone marred from dozens of battles. His own prestigious seat was an unassuming perch on the wall near the entrance. Directly opposite it was the throne. Perfectly molded to fit the squat, meatless body of his lord. He strode to that throne with care. Hefting the chair stoically towards the throne once. Then twice. The third was a barely contained rattle to just dislodge the skull from the chair before his aggravation finally took hold. With a soundless roar, he raised the chair to the sky and brought it down on the throne with a mighty crash. Splinters of wood scattered across the pock-marked ground, dust filling the air. And the skull finally broke free from the seat with a mighty crack. Khaine watched as his lord¡¯s power flashed around him like a spider somehow pulling it¡¯s web back into itself. Bones he hadn¡¯t noticed melded free of the chair-turned-kindling. Snapping back to their rightful place like reality¡¯s truth making itself known. Incus¡¯s dark robe slipped into the material world around his shoulders with fondness that almost made Khaine blush. In a split moment, he felt the rushing magic at his lord¡¯s ivory-tipped fingers. Only to be compounded when the same eerie green light that suffused his joints flickered to life in the pale crystalized eye sockets of the lich now sitting on his throne. Like mana bleached emeralds looking for the tortured souls of all who opposed him. ¡°Really, that seemed unnecessary. I doubt I was gone long enough to warrant that. Besides, aren¡¯t you the one shirking your duty? Keep the royal delegations waiting and I¡¯ll have to find a new high dignitary.¡± Khaine let his arms cross as the balls of his feet pulled mana up from the stones beneath them. Shooting deep into the earth for support in the face of the magical cascade of power before him. He had no illusion that Incus could snuff him out or leave his immortal form a decrepit hunk with a flick of a boney finger. After all, it was a fool who let their creations become more powerful than them. ¡°I¡¯ve been away far longer than was discussed, my lord. I expected you to immerse yourself in your creation¡¯s mana weave or pass a few of your duties off but hid away in the pantry for me to return.¡± Khaine retorted a little more hotly than he meant to. His lord simply waived it off with a gracious hand before his phalanges scraped softly against the tomb dust on his armrests. The latent mana in his skeleton cleaned him before he could even rub his fingertips together. ¡°Hmm¡­ You were only supposed to be gone a year at most. What happened?¡± Incus asked with worry, unashamed of the slight outburst but yet to pull his power back in. He wouldn¡¯t until it settled into his form. The Maxim¡¯s of Magic may help after a time but Khaine knew just how much his lord would loathe using ¡®Training Wheels¡¯ for such a personal issue. ¡°To be frank sire, your realm has seen little in the way of proper management. ¡° Khaine spoke freely before sitting on the floor of the circular throne room. Its symbolic meaning is all but lost to time. ¡°Border disputes, bands of roving warriors looking to make a living in wildlands grown from dead civilization, dark entities vying to carve their own kingdom from your domain, chiefdoms war with petty kings while both claim lineage to true heirs of your land with barely a shred of proof. The boons you gave your people were amazing but without guidance, all it did was make them targets¡­¡± ¡°How long?¡± Incus¡¯s normally calm words rang like a bell throughout the throne room. Khaine sat in thought as to how he was going to respond for a handful of moments before finally speaking. ¡°It''s been just over a century, lord.¡± He softly entombed his emotion into the words. ¡°I spent a long time working from holding to holding trying to keep things running but I don¡¯t know how these machinations of yours function. I could only ever fight in one place or another, not both at once. I thought if I kept moving, kept working our combined efforts would right things quickly enough.¡± As the magic in the air finally began to pull back into the lich, Khaine stood once more to his full height. ¡°When you didn¡¯t respond to my missives I just assumed you were busy or preoccupied. In my folly, I found myself on the wrong end of one of Khuvrasil¡¯s probing attacks. The foolhardy godling chose to take dispatching me upon himself with little thought to the accords. When I reformed I was able to learn that many believe you are either dead or bound to this tomb by the will of an unknown pantheon.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Incus slouched into his throne with true exhaustion. The weight of the task before him was more than enough to send the magic between his bones flickering with tired emotion. The moments passed without more words. Khaine could have pressed on with more information. He had only spent a few dozen years actively moving through the land as his lord¡¯s embodied will, but he had learned much of the dangers they faced. ¡°Summon a hero.¡± The lich finally responded with a groan. Slowly raising himself to his full height and stepping off the throne. If he had eyes, Khaine would have blinked. ¡°... Sire? What plan do we have for the realm? What strategy do we undertake for saving what subjects remain loyal?¡± Khaine followed as the lord strode to the side of his chamber. Directly towards his study. The place of refuge he normally lost himself in magical theory. Incus didn¡¯t give a thought to stopping his follower from slipping in behind him. ¡°No.¡± Incus simply responded flatly. Finding the extravagant lounging chair in the center of his vacant study. ¡°You don¡¯t know the effort I¡¯ve put into this realm. How long I toiled tediously to give the races a footing that would unify them in prosperity. I mastered pursuits that gave me nothing just to find ways to improve their lives.¡± He stood beside the chair, stroking its still fine fabric and plush cushions. ¡°I¡¯ve done more than enough for them, Khaine¡­ And it is an approach that fails them all the better in the end.¡± Incus slowly laid down with a weariness that matched the age of his bones. ¡°If they wish to decry me a monster then I shall be judged as they see fit. Until that day¡­ Just¡­ Prepare the summoning array. It is time for something different.¡± ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- His body retched before his spine slammed into the hard, cold ground. Rain and glass falling around him in a sheet before the only noise was his wetsuit dripping onto the ground. Hot pokers still burned in his torso from the high-caliber rounds lodged in his subdermal armor. The stab-resistant padding had done nothing to prevent that. He knew that was the reason he¡¯d been assigned it now. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, curling up into a slightly more comfortable position to breathe. And possibly not bleed out. Assessing¡­ He jolted slightly at the voice of his handler in his ear. Cold adrenaline heated back up in his veins as he struggled to a crouching position. Vitriolic emotions gurgled to the surface of his mind unbidden. His senses flashed by him, all tinted with baleful rage. ¡°Looks like the operation was a failure. I¡¯m still breathing.¡± He spat the words, spittle spraying into his rebreather under the faceplate. For now. Came the cold response. He pushed the voice aside mentally in the same movement he used to right himself on his feet. A cave. A cold, dank cave with a glowing floor. With a wobble that grated on him more than he cared to admit, he stumbled from side to side and turned to take in the glowing floor. A weirdly shaped circle. No curves, but enough shifting green corners and edges to make his head hurt. He stood there, viscous hyperfusion blood dripping onto the floor. Questions rebounded in his head. Confusion making it all worse. The gears in his mind whirred frantically as he tried to make sense of the situation. After an eternity he simply found a wall to sit down against. Options were limited, allies less so. ¡°Handler, inquiry. What is your true designation?¡± He asked through grit teeth. Processing¡­ Denied. He resisted the urge to rub his faceplate and tried to push forward. After all, what better way to test your adaptability than negotiations with your betrayer. ¡°New inquiry, what was to happen to my remains upon completion of mission?¡± Processing¡­ Your remains were to be analyzed, dissected, repurposed and disposed of at a nearby black site for the betterment of company personnel. ¡°You suck.¡± He grumbled low in his throat without thinking. After another few moments of collecting his composure, he pressed forward. ¡°Handler, the technology I am composed of is considered proprietary. Upon failure of termination, wouldn¡¯t it be best to keep me alive long enough for a retrieval team to find me?¡± The silence plodded along longer than he¡¯d have thought was needed. Leaving him sitting alone in a dank cave while the voice in his ear thought things over. I cannot find any local communications. No known frequencies of any kind I can decode¡­ Wait¡­ He jumped a bit at the loss of it¡¯s rigid protocol. That was the second time it had slipped into a decidedly social way of speaking. Character assessment underway and preliminary results are as shown
Attribute Score
Strength 14
Dexterity 8
Constitution 8
Charisma 10
Intelligence 13
Willpower 14
Do you wish to contest these results? He sat looking at the screen before his eyes found the question at the bottom. It wasn¡¯t in his helmet but projected into his sight by the handler. That much he could tell at least. He had been shot multiple times, blown out of a window, and was now miserably cold on a cave floor. Before he knew it he had latched onto the word ¡®Contest¡¯ like a life vest. ¡°Fuck yes.¡± He growled low in his throat. Before he felt the weightless tingle that brought him here he could have sworn the handler laughed in his ear. Chapter 3: An action packed contest. ¡°They are still sitting there.¡± Khaine grumbled at the clairvoyant portal on the wall. ¡°They¡¯re just¡­ Bleeding.¡± He harrumphed the word like a local reeve speaking of lowered taxes. Despite his lack of eyes, Khaine was still able to perceive what was beyond a little magical aptitude. Aside from the viscous, pale, almost completely transparent pool of fluids slowly forming beneath the summoned hero the cave was desolately silent. If their chest wasn¡¯t still moving with each meditative breath then Khaine would have already proclaimed them dead. ¡°Then your missing something. I made this ritual for the gods to bring champions of change into this world. I knew they didn¡¯t have the patience, or humility, to directly serve their subjects. The Maxims are alive. A breathing weave of mana, intent, and a collective will that touches all things who choose to seek power. This ritual must be carefully pieced together to find the desired individual. The new gods may shirk my counsel when using this ritual, but the old still keep to the ones I¡¯ve given them.¡± Incus let his jaw move freely with each word. The only part of him moving in that chair. Khaine purposely ignored the mana roiling in the room. His lord¡¯s chest rose and fell like a gasping man on the verge of asphyxiation. It was just like every time after a slumber. He¡¯d never been asleep this long, but Khaine had no desire to rend his senses raw with the sheer amount of information his lord took in. Instead, he focused on the still creature bleeding silently on the cave floor. A mirror-faced construct, if he was correct. ¡°Well¡­ Will you at least tell me what you asked for?¡± Khaine mumbled sullenly. ¡°I asked for nothing,¡± Incus replied with a scoff from his nonexistent throat. ¡°For if I knew what we needed, I could simply give it to them. I left it to the Maxims. They are still young, but¡­ they grow every day. Besides, if you¡¯ve shown anything over the centuries it''s that I should be placing more trust in my children. Not less.¡± Incus¡¯s words left an odd sensation on Khaine¡¯s spine. Incus hadn¡¯t made Khaine for himself. He was yet another gift to one of the dozens of old gods the lich had raised from their mortal coil. Khaine had taken his first steps into the world in time to witness the decline of his now lord. From progenitor of gods and commander of horrors to magical shut-in. And when the never-ending games of the pantheons left Khaine a husk, tossed aside by the very god to who he¡¯d been pledged, Incus was there. Like a grandfather willing to pick up all the pieces and put him back together. Khaine¡¯s thoughts rattled with the stories he¡¯d pieced together. Of the true Age of Strife. Few knew just many souls Incus had harvested. How many living creatures had their essence shredded? How could the same creature that saved him and dedicated their existence to others for so long be the being of power-hungry malice the stories told of? Khaine pulled himself from thoughts that he had spent decades plagued by. If they were questions he was meant to ask his creator then it would be easy to do just that. Focusing instead on the slowly dying construct sitting in the cave. ¡°... I have my doubts¡­¡± ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ¡°God this is boring¡­¡± He looked at the name he had been given either minutes or hours ago that sat floating on a sheet of parchment in front of his eyes. The clinically sterile room had nothing but his chair, a small table, and a couple of torches along the walls. He had envisioned something to do. Whatever these people thought the word ¡®Contest¡¯ meant, Jack certainly didn¡¯t share it. If it wasn¡¯t for the probing sensation that prickled against his consciousness after asking oddly vague words he¡¯d have truly believed the only reason for this contest was to test his sheer willpower. Another word floated across his mind and he let himself dissect it. He felt it out more than heard it in his mind¡¯s eye. Seemed right and didn¡¯t leave him feeling any dumber. It had something to do with building¡­ Not architecture, at least. Either was beyond his wheelhouse, regardless. Jack sat in silence as he tried to push what he knew out into that probing sensation. He knew it wasn¡¯t his imagination when his grand knowledge of construction was received with a lukewarm reception. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.¡°You enjoying yourself, H? Been pretty quiet since we got here.¡± Jack ventured the question as innocently as he could manage. Stop talking to me. There''s nothing left to say between us. His brow furrowed in time for the next word. Something about Hunting. Great, something else that he had literally never done in his life. After a moment of thought, he began pushing what he knew of tracking towards the sensation. Situational awareness, small tricks to gauge distance and keep track of multiple enemies. At least the response wasn¡¯t as bad. ¡°No, I¡¯m not. I don¡¯t know what is happening or where we are, but I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯m just gonna sit back and play guinea pig. This could be a drug-induced coma, reality augmenting software, or anything.¡± His persuasive tirade faltered with another word. FIghting. Well, he understood that well enough. He let his mind whir with the basics of hand-to-hand combat, augmenting it with the leverage of basic human physiology. Biology? How people weren''t supposed to move. Your biochemical readings are well within expectations, ¡®Jack.¡¯ your not in a medically induced coma and my scans would have immediately found any change in augmented reality matrices. Well, aside from the rather venomous way she said his new name, that all made sense. He continued to feed his knowledge of combatives into the curious probe but he could tell certain things were rapidly becoming lost in translation. The connection of geometry, fields of overlapping fire, and firearms training. Some things translated better than others. Before he knew it a new word was pushing into his mind. Little talking? That''s stupid. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It''s small talk. It''s the way people spend time talking about nothing. With a grumbling curse, he began thinking. How did people just¡­ Talk? He always made up stories, lied, and did anything he could to just get what he needed before leaving. When all else failed he just tried to talk about what the other person wanted to blather about. Being sociable just simply wasn¡¯t something that he found interesting. You are so bad at this. ¡°Shut up.¡± Jack replied with a wit somewhere between a rapier and a butterknife. A headache was beginning to sprout behind his brow. ¡°Isn¡¯t there something you could do? Like, anything at all that¡¯ll make this less painful?¡± With his outburst already underway Jack stood to his full height. Tackling the next concept while beginning to pace the room. The small act of movement was more helpful than he¡¯d admit. My objective was never to help you. He could feel the stone beneath the balls of his feet with every step, especially after beginning to jog around the desk. ¡°You made that abundantly clear with the completely unwarranted snarky remarks while I was being shot. Completely unprofessional, by the way.¡± I think thanking you for your service to the company was very professional. ¡°We¡¯re just gonna have to disagree there, H. If I was the kind of guy to hold grudges then there would be no coming back from that.¡± You do hold grudges. Jack wracked his brain for something about tea that didn¡¯t degrade it to dirty leaf water while the sensation probed his mind like a child eyeing cake. ¡°MOTHER OF¡­! Listen, I should not be the adult right now! You tried to kill me! Probably with people that I knew! So show a little class and butter me up. Lie, cheat, do something to salvage whatever this is! At least that would be something interesting.¡± Why? He kept moving while trying to think of what tea was. Did people put dried fruit in it? Ginger, he¡¯d heard of ginger tea. It was with the thought of ginger on his mind that he began to slow down. The back of his consciousness mulling through the past day¡¯s events and piecing together what it could. ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m still bleeding, aren¡¯t I? You''re just trying to wait out the clock.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Oh, you are so grudged.¡±