Regenesis (Book 1): Impact (35 page)

“How
did you go from German soldier to hired assassin?”

Strom
took another drink and said, “They put us through two years of training, told
everyone we’d died or something, and even planned on giving us entirely new
identities.”

“So
what happened?”

“Only
ten of us actually survived the training,” he told Nick, “But after the rest of
us finished the training we were given our credentials, sent off into the
field, and given assignments. Only, once we’d made it out we learned that the
Germans only wanted one of us.”

“What
do you mean?”

“They
worried that having ten operatives was too risky, especially if one or two of
us defected or went rogue, or whatever the hell they call it, and caused
international issues.”

“Which
you did.”

He
agreed, “Which I did after the fact. What they planned was a battle royal for
the ten of us.” Strom took another long drink and continued, “I didn’t want any
part in it and as such they told the other nine to take me out first.”

Nick
frowned. “How could they do that? I mean, couldn’t you all have just said no
and gone out and told the world about what they planned?”

He
only shrugged. “We could have, had the other nine guys not actually taken to
the plan.”

“Wh-Why
on…Why on earth would they?”

“We
were taught for a year that an order is an order and that life is but a brief
avenue. We learned that life wasn’t anything to cry over.”

Nick
scowled. “So they told you to shoot and you did? Without any question?”

“They
did, I didn’t.”

“And
why was that?”

He
got off the bed and walked back to his collection of drinks to claim his turkey
sandwich. Strom pointed to the book on his bed. “Despite being a terrible
student, I’ve always loved to read. These books caused me to look at everything
objectively. It was why I wanted to go into the program and it was how I
withstood whatever brainwashing they put us through. They said jump, I asked
why while everyone else obeyed like little lapdogs.”

Nick
nodded. “What happened?”

He
set the bottle down and told him nothing happened. “They all came after me and
I killed each and every one of them.” Strom saw Nick’s disgusted look and he
elaborated, “I didn’t want to but I knew if I let them live they’d simply come
after me again. I didn’t have a choice. Anyway, after that I left Germany,
adopted the persona of Ghost, and a series of events led to me here.”

Nick
let out a small breath. He asked Strom, “Do you enjoy what you do?”

Strom
swore, “You’ve already asked me that.” He paused in anticipation of another
question, but Nick remained quiet. Strom rubbed his eyes with his left hand and
added, “I’ve never enjoyed it. Who the hell would? I’ve already told you I’m
not some blood thirsty murderer Nick, it’s just a job.”

“So
none of this keeps you up at night?”

He
took another drink and shook his head.

Their
door opened and Mizuno walked in. He looked at Strom and asked, “You couldn’t
have trained him in Seattle?”

Strom
only forced a grin. “I thought this would be better.”

“Either
way, is he ready?”

“More
or less.”

“Well
then I guess your job’s done.” Mizuno stuck his hand in his coat and retrieved
a small paper bag. He tossed in on Strom’s bed next to his copy of
The
Catcher in the Rye
. Mizuno looked at them both and his eyes flashed. “So
you’re not going to tell him then?”

Strom
guessed what Mizuno meant and shook his head.

“Have
it your way.”

Nick
looked at him and asked, “What are you two talking about?”

Mizuno
answered for him, “Do you know why Strom told you what he did about his past?”
He waited for a response but knew Nick wouldn’t have an answer so he continued,
“It’s because everything he told you is available on the internet. He hasn’t
told you anything personal, just facts everyone else knows.” Mizuno ignored
Nick’s loss of heart, took Nick’s jacket off the chair, and told Nick they were
leaving. “By the way, someone filmed your training session earlier and it ended
up on REFOIA. It’s been removed and destroyed, but I’d like to urge you to
exercise a bit more caution Strom. We were lucky Kyle found it so quickly and
managed to trace every copy of it.”

“Who’s
Kyle?”

Mizuno
told him it was another member of their group. “You’ll meet him soon enough,
grab your coat; we’re leaving.” Nick left without another word after he took
his coat from Mizuno. Mizuno however lagged behind a moment. He looked at Strom
and asked, “What are your plans for the next few weeks?”

Strom
only chuckled and asked why he even bothered to ask.

Mizuno
let out a breath and simply told him, “If you’re interested in more money to
piss away,” he glanced at the liquor, “I could use some more help with Nick. In
Seattle though.”

Strom
said he’d think about it and walked with a beer and his turkey sandwich in hand
over to his bed. Mizuno didn’t move though.

“I
am sorry, just so you know,” Mizuno told him. “If there was another way I would
have just as readily died instead.”

“Let
me guess,” Strom muttered, “All for a greater good?”

He
nodded, “Something along those lines.”

“Piss
off.”

Mizuno
headed for the door and mentioned that his offer still remained, should he have
a change of heart.

---*---

Chapter
13

September
4
^th
, 2029

7:05
AM

Bothell,
Washington

Drake
was never one for the first day of school. He hated getting up early for the
first time in months, he hated the odd return to school and his requirement to
reconnect with people he’d rather drift away from, and he hated how useless the
first period of every class was. None of the other students wanted to be there
either, as all they did in every class was talk about the syllabus and class guidelines,
and Drake held the suspicion that none of the teachers wanted to be there for
that first day anyway.

It
was bright, it was early, and it didn’t seem like a very good morning to him or
any of the other students who trudged through the halls of Bothell High.
Drake’s routine at the beginning of each semester was simply to drop his bag
off at his class and head to the cafeteria to see his fellow students who he
hadn’t spoken to in a season.

He
found his first classroom, walked in, and only saw two others in the room. They
ignored him and he ignored them as well while he selected his seat, dropped his
bag, and then turned right around and headed for the cafeteria.

His
first thought was to locate Hiromi but he ran across Jordan first. Jordan
stopped him and asked, “We’ve got history together this year, right?”

“Yeah,
why?” Drake asked as he continued to walk toward the cafeteria.

Jordan
tagged along and asked, “Could I borrow your notes tomorrow? I was planning on
ditching today, seeing as I was busy last night.”

Drake
looked at him, “What are you talking about?”

Jordan
blinked, “I was up watching movies with my folks.”

“Oh.”

“Why?
What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing,”
Drake told him while he rubbed his eyes. “You weren’t clear so I thought you
might have meant something else.”

“What?
Like I was busy with Rachel.”

“Something
like that.”

“Sorry,
but it’s not my fault if you assumed something,” he said. “But the notes?”

“Yeah…Wait,
no, actually.”

“Why?”

“I
leave for Japan later today.”

“Oh
yeah,” he frowned. “The whole Tokyo Game Show, right?”

Drake
nodded.

Jordan
scoffed, “You’d better bring me back something cool.”

Drake
told him he’d try his best and wandered off.

He
walked off in another direction in search of Hiromi, but hardly realized she
did the same thing as they headed toward one another. She wore her hair down
which barely graced her shoulders, a chain necklace with a key on it that he
recognized was from an old video game that had come out before he was born, and
a bag slung over her shoulder with a character from a manga Drake had read
nearly half a dozen times.

Hiromi
saw him through the crowd, ran to meet him, and threw her arms around him. “I
had fun last weekend at lunch.”

“So
did I,” he beamed. “Can I see your schedule?” She nodded and showed it to him.
Drake examined it briefly and frowned. “We don’t have any classes together,” he
told her before he gave it back to her.

“That
is too bad…” she looked at his schedule and exclaimed, “We do have the same
lunch though!”

He
looked again and saw that she was right, “Oh, that’s right. At least we can
spend time together then.”

“Yeah,
that will be nice.”

The
bell chimed and signaled the students’ need to head to their first course.
Drake told Hiromi that he looked forward to lunch with her later and then
briskly walked back to his first class.

When
he did return he found the room filled out more and happened to find a young
woman in a wheelchair next to his desk. He walked over, said hello, and took
his seat.

“I
know where Nick is Drake.”

“As
do I Jessica,” he said with little amusement. “He transferred to Inglemoor
yesterday.”

“What?”

Drake
repeated himself, “He’s in Kenmore attending Inglemoor High School.”

“He’s
in the state?”

“Yes,”
he nodded, “Probably in Kenmore.” Drake examined Jessica’s face and noted her
anxiety before he asked her what was wrong.

She
took a breath and kept her voice low so none of the other students would
overhear them, “Nick was in Las Vegas last weekend.”

He
frowned, “How do you know that?”

“Because
I saw a video of him with Ghost on REFOIA.”

Drake’s
thumb twitched. He looked away from her and quietly said, “Unless you can prove
that, I highly doubt it.”

“Why?”

He
looked back at her, “What reason would he have to be around an assassin Jess?
Moreover, how would he know that assassin first of all, and why on earth would
he go to Vegas?”

She
took a breath, “I don’t know, but there’s a video of Nick and Ghost in Vegas
shooting rifles.” She paused, dwelt on something momentarily, and then shared
her thoughts with him, “This is going to sound nuts, but Nick has some sort of
super power as well.”

Drake
looked at her and asked if she was serious. “There’s no such thing Jess.”

“Oh
come on Drake,” she muttered with a scowl, “I know you have to have at least
heard some of the rumors about what’s going on in Baltimore. This could be
related.”

“Or
that video you saw was and is complete crap,” he told her.

“It
was on REFOIA,” she stated.

“Which
of course means it’s entirely credible,” he sarcastically added.

Jessica
swore, “Can’t you be a bit serious about this?”

“I
am,” he told her. “You’re asking me to be serious in a conversation about Nick
having super powers and associating himself with an assassin. Out of the two of
us I’d say I am serious.”

She
sighed and muttered some grievance against Drake as their instructor walked in.
“Could you at least keep your mind open to the possibility of this?”

He
agreed. “You’re going to have to show me this video later, alright?”

“Sure,
fine…well, I would, but for some reason it’s not there anymore.” Drake gave her
a look and she quickly snapped, “I’m not making this up Drake.”

Class
began immediately after their conversation ended. Midway through the course
introduction Drake retrieved his cell phone and sent a text to Sho. It read,
‘Search REFOIA for Ghost.’

---*---

2:00
PM

Baltimore,
Maryland

Mia
Hendricks sat by herself at one of the small tables in the break room with a
cup of decaf coffee, an energy bar, a bottle of aspirin, and a small onyx
notebook. She studied her notes without touching her coffee for more than what
was needed to wash down two of her pills. Her wrist still hurt if she didn’t
take the pain killers; it felt like a reminder of what she needed to do.

Detective
Felton walked into the room and toward the communal coffeepot. “Y’know the Chief
told us no notes right?” he asked quietly.

“These
aren’t notes on the investigation; they’re notes about my identity theft case.”

“How
is that going?” he asked as he poured himself his own coffee.

She
sighed, “Not good. Apparently I traveled from DC to India and from there to
Seattle all last week.”

“Really?
Was anything else bought? Jewelry or a car or anything?”

“No,
just those plane tickets. And I guess they forged a passport in my name too
about three months ago.”

“Do
you have any leads on who it might be?”

Mia
shook her head and told him that whoever they were they covered their tracks
well. “It’s honestly as if they don’t exist at all.”

He
took a swig of his drink and chuckled at the thought, “I highly doubt that.
You’ll find them eventually.”

Mia
nodded. She looked up from her notes and asked, “How many days do we have
left?”

Felton
let out a breath and searched his mind for the answer. “According to what
Detective Sage believed to be the pattern…about two days.”

She
frowned, “And then what do we do?”

He
only shrugged, “We give it our best without letting anyone know.”

“What
are you talking about?”

Felton
stirred his drink a bit and told her the case was closed. “Commissioner Schmitt
claims there isn’t significant proof of the existence of Cladis and as such
there is no need to have the investigation.”

“And
what does he expect us to say to the mayor?” she asked.

“He’s
actually spoken with the mayor and convinced him that it was the work of a new
gang under the name Cladis.”

Mia
stopped him and asked, “So we’re supposed to work under the cover that there’s
a rising gang called Cladis and not a serial killer?”

He
wavered on whether he should agree with her statement. Instead he clarified,
“Basically, there is no investigation of this new gang until they prove to
become a larger threat.”

“But
none of that makes sense,” she told him. “What are we supposed to do as more
stiffs turn up?”

Felton
only shrugged and said, “Cover them up.” He took a sip of his coffee before he
told her he wasn’t happy about the decision either. “Sage was my partner for a
long time and I want to stop Cladis just as much as you, maybe more.”

She
scowled, “Can I ask why you sound so cavalier about their decision?”

The
detective told her that their decision didn’t impede their investigation. “Do
you really think we’re going to abandon this? Hendricks, we know full well that
Cladis is a threat and that we need to figure something out to stop him. I’m
not sure how to handle that though, and I think rather than publicly declare
how inept we are, the commissioner would have us work discreetly.”

“And
if he’s serious about abandoning the case?”

Felton
smirked, “Then we’d better take notes.”

---*---

11:35
AM

Bothell,
Washington

Vladimir
could tell, as any young person could upon entering a classroom that was devoid
of arraigned seating, that the room was divided into small circles of friends
and cliques. As he did not know any of the individuals within the room, he
retreated to a table toward the end of the room and sat alone. He hardly felt out
of place in a room filled with people he was unfamiliar with, as his life
seemed filled with that sort of isolation. However it seemed as though his
solitude would not last; Rachel walked into the room shortly after he claimed
his seat and once she espied him in the back she joined him with a smile.

He
greeted her and asked how her classes were. After exchanging a mundane reply
she repeated his query to him, to which he told her his courses were
interesting. She smiled more and asked if he’d made any friends yet, though he
regretted to say it was too soon to tell.

Their
instructor walked into the room and a majority of the class fell silent. The
conversation between Rachel and Vladimir even stalled, though Vladimir did not
immediately see why. The class began with a brief introduction to the course,
the roll call, and then a brief overview of the first assignment for the
course. Their teacher, Miss Keller, then bid them off to their work and
retreated back to her desk to let the class begin their assignments.

Vladimir
had not even received a copy of the project before the instruction ended, which
stirred doubt in his instructor’s ability. “Is she usually this curt?” he
whispered to Rachel whilst he perused the document.

Rachel
told him to get used to it. “She isn’t the most efficient teacher, but you do
get two hours to do nothing but art. And the cool thing is that her assignments
don’t take as long as the allotted time, so we get to work on other homework or
projects in the extra time.”

Vladimir
frowned and asked whether they would ever have the opportunity to learn about
the great artists or even if Miss Keller would teach them how to use other
mediums they normally would not be familiarized with. Rachel said it was
doubtful. “Then she is not doing her job.”

“What
do you mean?”

“I
mean that this is not an art class,” he said a bit louder than he meant to. His
words caught the attention of some of the others at the tables nearby, though
he failed to yield to social customs and still his tongue, “If I am able to
spend this entire year painting in water colors and pass this course with
little difficulty, then this cannot be anything more than playtime.”

His
final comments reached Miss Keller’s desk, which although she heard him left it
alone. Rachel noticed her glare and quickly asked Vladimir to stop his speech.
She made a final attempt to change the subject by asking him what his idea was
for the project. He admitted that he was unsure and thought to give it some
consideration before he began. “What about you Rachel?”