Cults of the Dragon Gods Page 3

  Pancho opens the back door of the MTVR and gestures at the girl out. “Come on. We need to get you some clothes.”

  Without getting out, the girl looks around. “Where did that scarred freak go?”

  Pancho probably thinks he manages to keep the frown off his face, but all he does is put on a weird expression that is not really a smile. “Brand had some personal business to take care of, and so do I. He gave you to Old Thorrin here. Once we have someplace we won't be bothered, we'll get that collar off you.”

  The girl's nasty, vindictive smirk has no place being on a child's face. “I'm a naked and collared adolescent. You two are going to be arrested as pedophiles as soon as the social monitors flag me.”

  Whether it is the girl's words or expression, Pancho snaps back to normal. A dispassionate look enters his eyes, and he laughs at her. “The scarred monster Brand has control over Delphi. There won't be any flags going up over us. If you want to run, go right ahead. We won't stop you and it will save us some trouble. How you explain your way around your existence is up to you. You'll either wind up right back in the hands of the followers of one of those fucked up gods or in some government test lab.

  “Besides, you're a girl. All we would need to do is self-identify as homosexual, and we would never be charged with anything.”

  With a sour look on her face, the girl looks around. “Enlightened laws let male pigs like you get away with anything.”

  “Last time I checked, neither of us was fucking our sibling in an adolescent clone of our original body.”

  Anger and outrage turn the girl's face ugly, but she does not say anything else.

  “If you want some clothes, get a move on.” My tone is a lot harsher than I intended, but something about this girl leaves me in a really bad mood.

  I know that Brand did something to the entire data net with Delphi, but as we enter the store, I am still nervous. Even though the entire store is not more than a thousand square feet, there are fifteen security camera monitoring it. There are probably more that are hidden in some way, but the domes of fish eye cameras are obvious. They have not changed in a century.

  A century, that is the supposed span of my life according to Earth's calendar, but I have experienced more than twice as many years now. Over half of my life experience has been in this Dvergar body. In those first half-dozen years after The Massacre, I walked an ugly road. The things I have seen leave scars on the soul that can never heal. What I did to find the enslaved Damned will always be haunt me. What I have done to orcs and beast men … to humans … should never be done to anything that lives. In that time, I became a monster. I do not want to think about those days, but I cannot forget them. No matter how many times I tell myself that I am not that person anymore, I know that the darkness is still lurking within me.

  As I look around this thrift store, I cannot help but feel like I am out of place and out of time. It is way I have felt since returning to Earth. This is no longer my world, and I am just as out of place among the Damned. I do not fit in among the Dvergar. I do not belong in the cultures of Taereun, the Lands of Despair, or the Battleground of the Damned that I have that I have seen over the decades. Too much has happened. Too much has changed. I no longer have a place anywhere.

  “...rin. Thorrin. Thorrin!”

  Pancho's repeatedly calling my name breaks through my brooding, and I look around. I am not sure how much time has passed, but the girl is standing in front of me. The way she looks at me is the way that way that I have seen cowards look at weapons. There is a lack of understanding mixed with a bit of fear in her expression.

  The girl is wearing jeans with holes at the knees and a t-shirt with “Fuck You!” printed on it. In her arms, she is carrying a half dozen or more other outfits.

  “Is that what you want?”

  She shrugs. “These will do, for now.”

  “Let's go.”

  I use the smartphone to pay for everything and check the account balance. It looks like what Brand said is accurate. There is no maximum limit on the account. It is what we would have called “funny money” back in the days of paper currency, but with everything being electronic how can anyone know what is real and what has been spoofed electronically. Does it really matter? This world stopped caring about what is true and false or real and fictitious decades ago. The credits should not magically disappear, and the store will not be screwed over. Unfortunately, even Uncle Fuck You Over will not be hurt by our creating fake money in the economy. After all, they do it all the time.

  Climbing into cab, the girl sits in the middle of the of the bench seat, with her arms petulantly folded across her chest. “I'm not letting you lock me up in the back again!”

  That strange expression that is not really a smile flickers across Pancho's face for a second, but an amused smirk replaces it. He climbs in the driver's seat without saying a word.

  As Pancho navigates the streets of Las Vegas, the cab is filled with an uncomfortable silence. Leaving the city, we get on US Highway 93 heading southeast. I have no idea where Pancho is going, or what he needs to do. I only left with him to get away from Brand.

  So … what are we doing?

  Pancho looks at me for a moment and shows a slight frown. I have twelve daughters and twenty-odd grandchildren. One of my granddaughters got involved in drugs. The day The Great Fuck Over happened, I was just logging in to let my guild know I wouldn't be around for a bit, probably weeks, possibly longer. I had a late flight to Phoenix. Antonia is one of my daughters that doesn't hate me like her mother tried to train her to do, and Candace was always a good girl. I don't know how or why she got into drugs, but I was going to put a few dealers in their graves if I needed to. Not a whole lot good old Uncle Fucker can do to a ninety year old man.

  I am not sure if my snort is a strange laugh or an expression of disgust. It is probably a mix of both. I hate drugs. No matter how much the government talks and legislates against them, they never actually shut down the drug trade. The way the legal system works today, without a crime being filmed on a camera or other recording device that is directly tied into Delphi, there is no way to get a conviction. The case will just be thrown out if there is no record of the crime. Since the changes were made to the laws, I have always suspected that the politicians did that so that they and their wealthy backers, who have many places in their offices and homes that lack any kind of social camera coverage could commit whatever crimes they wanted and walk away scot-free.

  Any apartment and a significant percentage of private homes have social cameras installed in them. Rental properties are required by law to have them, and any new or upgraded home security system is the same. The wealthy pay for waivers on the social camera requirement for their security systems. What many people are probably unaware of is the fact that any device with a modern LED display can be used to record video images, but there are apparently ways to block or disable this that the wealthy have access to.

  We live in a society where almost everything is monitored. Well, I guess I do not live in it anymore. Still, there are places where you can get around the social cameras. The utility rooms in most buildings are an example, and many warehouse and industrial buildings have dead zones. People like drug dealers use these gaps in social camera coverage to traffic and sell their poison without any risks.

  Since we returned, have you been able to learn anything about how she's doing?

  Pancho shakes his head. She was put in a reform school, but as soon as she was released, she disappeared. Even with Brand letting me use that fancy toy, I couldn't find her. Number Two lives in Phoenix. If anyone can help me find Candace, she will be the one.

  Number two?

  Pancho almost smiles. The second ex. She was the best of all of them, and she's the only one I'm still on good terms with. She divorced me when I went back to Afghanistan for my third deployment. I can't blame her. I was a mess after the second, but I needed to go back. I needed to be in the middle of the shit storm just to fee
l alive back then. After divorcing me, she went to law school and became a divorce lawyer herself. Even though she's retired, she should still have the contacts to find Candace.

  With a frown I do not bother concealing, I look out over the desert. “When we get somewhere with good solid rock, get away from the highway in a deserted spot. I can cut off the girl's collar, but I need a solid base to lay out a metal plate on.”

  “I'm not 'the girl', old man. I have a name. Why don't you use it?” The girl's heated glare feels like it would bore a hole in me if you she could control her Power.

  The girl irritates me. The only reason I took her was because Brand seemed intent on taking her back to Taereun as a slave. Slavery is an abomination. It is still nominally illegal in America, but that has done nothing to eliminate the sexual slavery of minors. The criminals just make sure to never let it get recorded by the social camera's, and the politicians are not going to pass laws to get around the social camera requirement and lose one of their favorite vices.

  This is such a sick, twisted world. At least on Taereun, the degenerates are honest about their disgusting habits. I want to go back to Taereun.

  As my macabre laughter fills the cab, Pancho and the girl look at me like they are not sure if I am insane or not. I probably am insane, but it may be better than the alternatives.

  *

  It is late morning when Pancho stops the MTVR between a couple mostly rock hills a few miles from highway.

  “Will this do?”

  I nod. “It should. Come on, girl. It's time to take your collar off.”

  “I have a name, old bastard! Use it!” Despite her bitching, the girl still follows me over to a boulder the size of a minivan.

  I take out a wood axe and buff it with everything I have that will strengthen it and increase its sharpness. The is not one of my weapons. I will not be upset if it breaks; it will just be annoying having to forge another to replace it

  As I examine the axe and the weapon buffs on it, the girl backpedals. “Hey, old pedophile. What do you think you're going to do with that?”

  I give the girl a malicious grin and spin around in a crouch. With the axe parallel to the ground and about three feet off it, I cleave into the minivan sized boulder. Two of the weapon buffs trigger, creating a sheet of kinetic force almost eight feet long from bottom to top.

  Scritch!

  The fingernails on a chalkboard cacophony of the force buffs sheering through the stone sets my teeth on edge. A two inch high swathe of the boulder is turned into rock dust, leaving the upper three-fifths of it just sitting on top of the rest.

  Scrape. Thud.

  Planting my feet solidly against a ridge at one end of the boulder, I shove the top partially off the bottom. The top half of the boulder tilts and falls to the ground.

  With the sheered off piece leaning halfway off the base, I have enough room to work. After brushing away the rock dust, I take out a plate of Dvergar steel and lay it on top of the boulder's base.

  The chisel that I decide on is made from an Elemental alloy. It was something that I found in a ruin during The Great Fuck Over. I do not know when or how it was made, but I cannot even scratch it with my skills or Power. Still, I put several buffs on it to enhance its sharpness. The nearly three hundred pound sledgehammer is pure tungsten that has been enchanted in a special way to increase its weight.

  I look at the girl. “Squat down with your back against the rock and your head tilted slightly forward.”

  After the girl is in position, I put every protective buff I know on her. I am not sure what is going to happen when I break this collar. It does not look like it has death effect or backlash damage built into it, but I am anything but an expert on the intricacies of slave collars.

  Clink.

  A single blow chops through the collar next to lock, and anticlimactically, the now inert collar falls to the ground.

  Pancho gives me an ironic look. “You were ready to freak out all over the place, and that's it? One swing and it's over?”

  My glare does not faze Pancho, and he makes a show out of looking around. “Will the real Thorrin Hammerfist please stand up? There is some sissy, little, girly man impostor here! Hello! Thorrin! Please, stand up!”

  “Go fuck yourself!”

  “Hahahahahaha!” While laughing like an idiot, Pancho points at me.

  The girl stands up and glares at me. “You had me ready to wet myself with all that magic shit you were putting on me. I thought I was in mortal danger. You really are an old sissy.”

  “Your collar is gone. You can go wherever you want on your now. Let's go, Pancho.”

  “Hey! Old sissy! I'm in this predicament because of your meddling. Take responsibility for your actions.”

  I walk toward the MTVR without looking back. “Your brother and that crazy priestess are the ones that put you in that body. Go complain to them!”

  “Fuck you, old sissy! You're taking me with you until I find someplace safe to stay.” The girl runs past me and scrambles into the cab of the MTVR.

  *Well, old sissy?* Pancho's smirk would make Jesus and Buddha want to hit him.

  We take her with us.

  Family Questions

  *** Central California – Earth ***

  Return: Day 343

  August 6, 2078

  (Brand)

  With Delphi under my control, there is no difficulty accessing any building that I desire. In this day and age, virtually all locks are computer controlled, and with the exception of Area 51, I am not aware of any electronics that the virus called Delphi created by that patterning machinery cannot infiltrate. However, I do not need Delphi to open the doors of Urehara-sensei's dojo. It has already been ten years since my biometric information was added to the door lock.

  With just a slight push, the door smoothly swings open, and I enter the dojo. A faint coat of dust covers everything. It does not look like anyone has been here since Urehara-sensei and I left for Taereun.

  When a holographic projection of Ryouske Urehara appears at the front of the dojo, I am caught by surprise. I have always knows there was a holographic projection system in the dojo. It was used for viewing videos from martial arts competitions and training camps in Japan and China, but Urehara-sensei's image being displayed, when someone walks in, is not normal.

  "Mark, since you are seeing this recording, it means that something has happened to me, and I am probably dead. It also means that you are unsuccessful in reaching Taereun. I do not if you are insane or if Taereun is real. Whether or not Taereun really exists is immaterial. If there is any chance Mei is alive and might be in danger, I have to take the risk and try to save her. She is my only daughter.

  "Whatever the truth may be, I do not believe that you have lied to me. You may not be sane, but after the ordeal you experienced with that net game, I cannot hold mental instability against you. I have left a legacy of sorts here for you. As far as Delphi is concerned, neither of us exists at the moment, but beneath this dojo, there exists a method to take wrest control of Delphi from anyone else that might have administrator access. One of my sons has an unquenchable lust for power, and they are both idiots. Neither of them has the strength to stand against the governments of America and Japan and retain control of their own destiny and the destiny of my family. They are not worthy of my legacy. The ownership of Delphi is for you." The voice track stops for several moments, but there is still motion in the video.

  Urehara-sensei's image frowns. "In the back of my office, there is a false wall. Behind it, you will find a biometric hand scanner. Place your palm on it, and you will obtain access to Delphi that exceeds the administrator level. I ask and can only trust that you will not use that control over Delphi against my family, but whatever else you do with it, I leave to your own discretion."

  Urehara-sensei's image reveals an almost abashed smile. "Mark, in my heart, you are almost a third son to me. Your father was one of the few men I could call a friend. He did not fawn all over me b
ecause of my wealth or power. He did not look on me with jealousy or covetousness. When you have the amount of wealth and power that I do, you have no idea how rare it is to find a man who looks at you simply as yourself. Your father was such a man.

  "However, before your father became my friend, when he first applied for a job with my corporation, I ran background checks on him. Other than the undeniable the existence of you, your parents, and your aunt, everything about your family is a complete fiction. With the existence of Prophet and Delphi, such a thing should be an impossibility."

  A pensive frown appears on Urehara-sensei's image. "With the completely fictitious nature of your family's background, I have never been able to understand why I hired your father. To this day, I still do not know why. I have never regretted hiring your father. He was a man I trusted, and one of the very, very few that was truly my friend.

  "Your parents are dead, and Delphi is completely unable to probe the mystery of your family. The only person that may be able to answer questions regarding them is your aunt, but I suggest caution in how you go about obtaining answers from her. Like your father and mother, your aunt has always struck me as a dangerous person.

  "This recording will be automatically deleted from the dojo systems, and once to use the biometric scanner, it will self-destruct. Goodbye and good luck, Mark."

  Despite not needing the access granted by the hidden equipment, I still go into the office. The false wall opens as I approach it, and I place my hand on the scanner plate. There is a soft beep and a small safe beneath the hand scanner opens.

  Inside the safe, there's a small tablet computer. Going through it, I find a wide variety of credit accounts and false IDs. There is also a list of several dozen access centers for Delphi and/or Prophet that are scattered around the world.

  It feels like to have a lump of cold lead in my chest. Urehara-sensei left this for me, and Jinmu betrayed me. My emotions are a twisted mess. I have no idea what to think or feel. My desire to kill Jinmu has been at war with my desire to set him free. Now, I am more torn and conflicted than before. I do not know what I will do what I next see Jinmu.