Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (16 page)

Holy
shit…

“For
those of you who do not know, Strom Trenor is a world renowned assassin 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 analyzed 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 assassin’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 Dáfù
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 analysis prove him as the killer of the other security
members, it would give reason to assume that the snipers originally placed as
security were in fact in league with the Dáfù 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 assassin 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 bastard butchers people and makes a damned 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
basement…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 assured 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
bastard 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
Dáfù would be waiting there?...The Dáfù. 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. Dáfù’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 passed 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
19
^th
, 2029

11:06
AM

Bothell,
Washington

Rachel
stood idle behind the counter at the small café 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 shirt with one vertical stripe on
the right side of his shirt 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 café 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…assuming 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 shirt, 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?”

The
boy turned and smiled when he recognized her. “Of course. However, I do not
believe we were properly introduced at the park.”

“We
weren’t. I’m Rachel Lee.”

“And
I am Vladimir Dalca.”

Jordan
got up and met them, though he knew full well that Rachel hardly wanted him to
meet her new friend. “Hey Rachel who’s your friend?” he asked.

“Oh,
this is Vladimir. Vladimir this is my boyfriend Jordan.”

“It
is a pleasure to meet you Jordan. Do you by chance go to Bothell High School
too?” asked the pale boy.

“Yep…”
he paused for a brief moment before he asked what it was like in Rome.

Vladimir
expressed a puzzled look and admitted he had never been to Rome.

“I
thought that was where you were from.”

“No,
I hail from Romania,” he corrected him. Vladimir glanced away and admitted how
confusing the two could be. “What year are you in Jordan?”

He
answered that he was a senior but quickly asked in turn if Vladimir was
unsettled by the advanced society they lived in. Vladimir told him Romania was
not a third world nation and persisted in leaving Jordan’s query unanswered.

Rachel
changed the subject, “So what are you doing here?”

“I
am actually here to meet someone, though it seems I might have arrived somewhat
early.” Vladimir chuckled, “He is hardly as prompt as I would prefer him to be,
but he does lead a very preoccupied existence, and as such I am forced to abide
by his schedule and not my own.”

Jordan
failed to take an interest in the Romanian boy’s reasons and ignored him.
Rachel asked who Vladimir was going to meet, but Jordan intervened before he
could answer, “Who’s an exchange student got to chat with? I mean, how many
others joined you and came here exactly?”

Vladimir
studied Jordan and feigned a smile. He glanced away for but a moment before he
said, “I would love to stay and chat, however it seems my friend has arrived
and would not want to keep him waiting or to trouble either of you any further.
Rachel,” he paused for a moment to meet her eyes, “It was a pleasure to see you
again and to become acquainted with you once more. I hope to see you again.”

The
Romanian left the couple and heard the faint bickering between the two as he
walked away. He let out a sigh and within a moment heard a voice say, “You’re
not making too many friends, are you Vladimir?”

The
young man grinned and reminded his friend that he never intended on
fellowshipping in the first place. He turned and discovered a strapping Russian
approximately his age. “Hello Pyotr.”

The
Russian’s face was distinguished, accompanied by his short blonde hair. He had
cool blue eyes and a warm smile that balanced out his intimidating size. Pyotr
greeted his friend, “I have already got our drinks and a table that’s close to
the front if you don’t mind. Y’know, old habits.”

Vladimir
joined his friend at the table where two ice waters rested. Pyotr sat with the
line of customers before him and Vladimir was seated with the crowd to his
back. They sat in unison and once the pair was comfortable, Pyotr initiated
their conversation, “How has your stay been here in the Pacific Northwest so
far?”

Vladimir
watched his companion as he stirred the water with a small black stirring
straw. “It is fine, just like everywhere else we have seen over the years. I am
sorry to say nothing impresses me as it once did.”

Pyotr
kept his focus on the water and told his friend to have more patience. “This
isn’t meant as punishment, though I can see how it might appear as such. But
nonetheless, tell me how you find this great nation. You haven’t been here in
quite some time I recall.”

Vladimir
stated that it hadn’t changed much. “People are the same, yet that is true
everywhere. Though what I found odd recently was an unsettling change in the
weather. Last week it was quite lovely and a fierce storm came up out of
nowhere.”

Pyotr
stopped stirring his drink for a moment to tell his friend to put it out of his
mind. “The origin of it is known to me and that is really all you need to
concern yourself with.”

He
scrutinized Pyotr’s words quietly. “You never give an honest and forthright
answer, do you?”

“I
do not agree Vladimir,” he said with a smile, “I have told you already, I am
appraised to it and that ends the matter.”

The
Romanian looked away and muttered that it hardly concluded the subject in his
mind. “Why is it, Pyotr, that you must always behave as if I am a mere pawn?”

“Perhaps
that is all we both are my friend.”

Vladimir
did not smile. “Do not toy with me Pyotr. You have not ever informed me
appropriately about our goals, often times not even after events have panned
out.” Pyotr frowned and apologized but Vladimir continued, “A prime example I
would remind you of is how you happened to encounter Jacqueline who neither of
us had seen in years, and the end result of that spat between the two of you
only came to me when I last spoke with Serenity, months before her passing.”

Pyotr
stopped him and with a great sigh told him he recalled his complaint. “I have
heard this before and I have already apologized, my friend, but this matter
does not concern us. And please, allow me to simply repeat this: we all have
our roles here in this world. This storm has its purpose as well. I know of it
and that is all that is important. So please Vladimir, put it out of your
mind.”

Vladimir
relented but hastily mentioned the effort he already took in investigating the
phenomena. “At the very least we know we’re more or less alone here.”

“Well
I would thank you for your work but seeing as I knew that already, though I am
not sure we will be without company for too long…” Pyotr trailed off suddenly
once he noticed the line at the register was gone. Pyotr sat silently for a
moment before he sat up and asked Vladimir, “Do you have a couple of dollars
that I could borrow? I need a drink.”

Puzzled,
he asked, “Today is Sunday. I thought you did not purchase anything on this
day,”

“I
don’t. However I believe the Lord will forgive me for one peppermint hot cocoa
on this day,” he told the pale boy.

He
handed Pyotr the money and muttered, “He’s your Lord.”

“He’s
yours as well,” Pyotr told him. Vladimir didn’t respond, so Pyotr went and
ordered his drink and promptly returned to the table. “They told me it would be
a minute or two and they would have a young girl bring it out to me,” he
informed Vladimir.

Vladimir
didn’t have to turn to know who he meant. “What have you planned, Pyotr?” he
asked.

“It
isn’t my plan...” he smirked. “How is your water?” he asked and changed the
subject.

Vladimir
had left the water untouched since his arrival. “It’s fine, aside from the
ice.”

Pyotr
apologized. “I asked them for one with ice and the other without, but I guess
they only heard ice.”

“It’s
fine.”

“Don’t
lie.”

“Hm?”

“Your
school begins in two weeks, doesn’t it?” he asked quickly to change the subject
again.

Vladimir
looked away from him and told his friend it did. “And I already know how droll
this school year will be, thanks to you.”

“Well
don’t give it too much thought.” He chuckled to himself, “It isn’t as if it
will truly matter.”

“Yes,
and I am still unsure why this is at all necessary,” Vladimir told him.        

Pyotr
and Vladimir left a pause in their conversation as Rachel arrived with Pyotr’s
beverage.

“Here
you go,” she said as she set the drink in front of him. She noticed that
Vladimir was with the customer and asked, “Vladimir, is this your friend?”

“Oh
I am his host brother Pyotr,” he introduced himself. “How do you two know each
other?” he asked Vladimir.

“This
is Rachel, I met her at a park last week, right before the storm,” he stated
flatly, his eyes level with Pyotr’s. Pyotr only smiled.

“Is
there anything else I can get for you guys?” she asked.

“No
I do not believe there is anything, is there Pyotr?” Vladimir asked.

“No,
nothing,” he answered. Rachel turned to leave but was stopped when Pyotr
noticed her bracelet, he asked, “Where did you find that interesting bracelet?”

The
question caught her off guard. She reached for it with her other hand without
thinking and said, “It’s been in my family for a long time. My mother gave it
to me before she died when I was twelve and from what I understand her mother
had it before her,” she explained.

“I
am sorry about your mother Rachel,” Vladimir told her.

“How
do you remove it? The band is so small.” Pyotr asked as he leaned toward her,
his eyes locked on the object.