Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) (51 page)

“We don’t know something is wrong for sure,” Shelly spoke.

Though the argument that had taken place prior between the General and his subordinate was not too pleasant, there were other protocols and measures that needed to take place in order to confirm any suspicions in light of any incident such as this one.

“Meryl has not given any of the other signals yet.”

The Director breathed a sigh of relief. As noted in her dossier, should anything go wrong inside the office after loss of communication, Agent Lewis was to go to the south window and shake the curtains back and forth to signal an emergency.

“Call up our locals and tell them I want all eyes on that window. If there is so much as a twitch I want to know about it.”

March 27th, 2013 4:09PM

The Oval Office

Washington, D.C.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Meryl cried to herself. It was the only thing that would take her mind off the enormous world of pain she was currently residing in. The dull ringing in her ears silenced everything around and her back felt like it was lit on fire. Constant groans of dull throbbing annoyances throughout her body provided no comfort either. Even the act of breathing caused bolts of pure agony to course through her nerves.

The FBI agent remained face down on the ground. There was not much she could do in this situation regardless. Even if she possessed the capability, Meryl was clearly outmatched and outclassed in physical strength and durability. In the blink of an eye, Bahn had decapitated the former General of North Korea and rendered the current President of South Korea unconscious. Whatever drug he had taken must have been out of this world if it was able to turn a cripple into a superhero.

The drugged-out soldier was still talking to the President about something Meryl had trouble comprehending. The ringing hadn’t fully subsided and she didn’t dare move her head or body to unearth more clues. He spared her life this time after proving how easily he could have taken it. She couldn’t risk any advantage she may have had. Not with so much at stake. Meryl needed to call for backup but she couldn’t pull out her phone without drawing suspicion and her one saving grace was smashed into the fine blue carpet of the office floor. There was yet another way.

The window curtains were about ten feet away from her position. They might have well been a mile or twenty. Even at her fastest, she’d only get maybe halfway there before getting caught. Bahn has proven that his speed is unmatchable. It would be a suicide mission. In order to save the President’s life and perhaps the entire country from bearing this man’s wrath, it would be a worthy sacrifice. But Meryl did not want to go down like that. If she had a choice, it would be swinging not crawling. That’s when she noticed her revolver was only three short feet away.

March 27th, 2013 4:11PM

1286 4th St SE

Washington, D.C.

Wood exploded from the back of the warehouse sending fragmented bits of splinters and shrapnel spraying into the empty concrete floor. Five creatures emerged and without hesitation, charged ahead running on all fours. They wore tattered and ragged clothing like the soldiers outside but these ones were anything but human. Their skin was scarred and broken. Fingers and toes were abnormally long and thin that resembled fangs and claws more than appendages. Tongues lashed out and swung from side to side with each pressing step. This wasn’t an army. They weren’t even men at this point. Dr. Shin had manipulated Agent M and created monsters.

The beasts cleared the distance of the warehouse in the blink of an eye. They ran as if they hadn’t eaten in months and a new meal had just presented themselves. Michael thought to reach for his gun but they would be here quick than he could draw. He hated to admit that but in mid thought the lead creature leapt and dove down towards the awaiting FBI agent with his sharp claws ready to go in for the kill.

Michael anticipated the leap, calculated its trajectory and swayed to the side. The best swiped at the FBI agent’s skull but its claws grazed nothing but air. Before it could even touch the ground, Michael slammed his fist into its maniacal skull with the force of a moving train and let the bone snapping explosion of sound be a warning to the rest.

The creature fell to the ground and writhed around a little bit. They may look like they were once humans but lacked the mental capacity to know when they are outmatched. These were creatures of pure instinct. They only knew one thing. They only cared about one thing. And just as Michael pulled away from his first punch, another two leapt at him and began clawing away at his flesh.

Bladed fingers cut through the FBI agent’s armored coat as if it were made of butter. Shreds of black fabric danced in the air as they were violently torn from their bindings. Michael dodged a flurry of blows and slashes but his bulky frame and presence couldn’t evade the speed and agility of the monsters for much longer.

The relentless attacks ensued. Each swing carried no finesse or elegance. These were just beasts on a mission to kill by any means necessary. Any opening Michael had to throw a punch was gone within a fraction of a second as the need to block outweighed his desire to attack.

A sharp burning pain erupted in the FBI agent’s foot. He shot a quick glance below to target the source and much to his surprise, the first creature that he though was already perished with chunks of skull shrapnel floating in his brain was chewing on his ankle as if it were a succulent steak.

Michael flung his coat and swiped away at the two other beasts driving them back. He switched his focus on the one trying to take a bite out of his leg and drove another punch on the top of its skull. The thundering crack that followed released the FBI agent from the bloody grip of its fangs and afforded him at least one good second to breath before the attacks began anew.

The two creatures that continued to do battle had apparently proven their perceived instinctual nature had a nugget or two of wisdom. The attacked from opposite sides forcing Michael to trade blows and defend each at only half of his combined fighting prowess. These creatures weren’t lowly thugs or even highly trained assassins. They could not be reasoned with, bartered, or even intimidated.

More attacks followed. Michael could see his armor dwindling as his Kevlar spun trench coat was being shredded like office documents. It was better that than his own flesh; that much was certain. Though most of their attacks favored claw slashes and punches, the occasional kick thrown in the mix proved to be both distracting and ominous. It was as if they were slowly learning how to fight as the battle raged on. Agent M had proven to be deadly enough as is when it turned a lone child Kurtis into the deadly warrior he became. The fact that it could create such mindless killing machines that could both regenerate nearly instantaneously and destroy anything in its path without any disregard lead to only one thing. The doctor was going to live up to his promise and he really had the army to do it.

Speed was not in Michael’s advantage. Two quick swipes found their mark on his ribs and shoulders sending that horrific yet familiar burning sensation coursing through his nerves. The cuts were deep and thick. Another half inch on his ribs and he may have needed a staple gun to keep his intestines from vomiting out. Blood began to bubble and drip out staining the hardened black fabric of his gear and reminded him of the cost of failure. He couldn’t afford another mistake.

Pain rocked the back of the FBI agent’s knees as he was sent down hard against the unforgiving concrete floor. He was having a difficult time as is keeping with their attacks and his defense that he didn’t even notice the one on the ground smashing his leg into Michael’s and crippling his stance in an instant. Now he was stuck in the worst position to be in while battled a group of hungering dogs. All three jumped into the air and prepared to pounce on their meal that was served before them.

Michael saw the glimpse of his would be fate and decided to spit in its face. He kicked his good foot out and launched himself backwards as he rolled to his feet and a proper standing position. As the creatures landed in an empty space it afforded the FBI agent the golden opportunity he needed. They all rose to a near standing position at the same time. Michael twisted his body and rocketed a spinning round house kick that smashed the jaws of all three beasts. His heel cracked against their flailing mouths and tongues and nearly sent them right down their throats. The sweeping arc sent the beasts spinning airborne nearly ten feet backwards. The rolled to a smashing stop against the wall as they stammered and flailed in an attempt to regain their footing from that incredible blow.

“These creatures are not human,” stated the Paladin as he spun his metal staff around knocking the two he had been battling aside nearly as quickly and efficiently as his companion.

Unlike the FBI agent, he looked no worse for wear. Not a single attack seemed to have grazed his flesh or uniform. Davis appeared as if he’d just been watching the whole time. On the other hand, Michael looked like he’d been in the center of an explosion. Nearly fifty percent of his coat had been torn and thrashed and was otherwise unusable. Streaks of crimson poured out of his freshly cut wounds and continued to soak and stain the fibers of his attire.

The FBI agent shot him a look that couldn’t have been a more perfect response. Of course they weren’t human. They may have been at one point but the God-Slayer drug had turned them into something else; something horrific. Michael was still minding his injuries and didn’t want to say anything unless absolutely necessary. Thankfully, the Paladin said something that would ease his worries from here on out.

“I would forgo restraint Michael,” Davis said as he twirled his staff to a ready position to prepare for the oncoming attacks. “They are crying, pleading for release. There is no redemption left for these men. All they seek now is the peace of the grave.”

Those words inspired Michael more than a thousand minstrels or bards ever could. If these fiends weren’t going to respond to the strength and finesse of the FBI agent’s style of combat, then he was going to take them on at their own level. He would become an ever greater monster than they or even the doctor up in his glass tower could fathom.

Adrenaline surged through every vein under Michael’s skin. Numbness began to coat his genetically hardened hide. The blood on his wounds dried sealing them shut for the time being. His eyes became bathed in red as they glared at the creatures beginning to stand up once more. If the doctor wanted to play with fire, he better be prepared for the inevitable burn.

Michael exploded from his position and raced after the monsters. They charged together in kind and clawed away at the concrete as they moved forward. Bits of rubble and grey dust kicked away they stampeded towards the FBI agent. The beasts jumped into the air once more as they so often favored above all other attacks. Michael was prepared for them this time. He kicked off the ground and leapt forward to greet his targets. A knee drilled into the skull of the center creature and he caught the other two dead on the skull with his outstretched arms. They landed back on the ground nearly simultaneously. Michael extended his knee after the devastating blow and dropped it right on the neck of the stricken monster. It squealed showing signs of legitimate agony for the very first time. The FBI agent then proceeded to slam the other two headfirst into the glorious concrete surface. Their skulls cracked and dented the grey surface underneath that couldn’t bare the weight of Michael’s wrath.

Lessons from the previous duel had already been learned. Michael sprang forth and grabbed one of the creatures and chucked its monstrous frame clear across the room. Its body slammed against the wall leaving an impression of its frame on the thick brick surface. It plopped to the ground and twitched in a vain attempt to regain its bearings.

Michael grabbed the second one by the throat and lifted him over his head. He drove it down over his bent knee with a ferocious velocity. Its spine shattered as if it were made of glass and began horrifically convulsing on the ground. The FBI agent took one step back and punted the beast square across the skull. It flew for a good twenty feet before gravity dragged it back down. Flesh and bone tore across the concrete surface and is skidded to a brutal halt.

The thirst instantly sprang up and lunged at the FBI agent. Apparently he had recovered much quicker than the other two. Its head was caught right in Michael’s awaiting grip. It clawed and slashed against the armored coat and drew some more strips of blood but the now angered FBI agent didn’t falter. He lifted the creature high into the air and dragged him over to the wooden bar where all of the extra equipment, tools, weapons, and ammunition were staged. He smashed the back of the creature’s skull on the four foot high wall sending bits of wooden debris flying. Michael sprinted forward, dragging the writhing creature through the structure as it was bent, snapped, and otherwise destroyed. The creature was dragged over twenty feet through wood, glass, metal, and brick before reaching the end of the line as it continued to scream and twist in defiance.

With one might toss, Michael slid the creature clear off the platform and sent it flying towards the glass tower where the doctor had taken resident. The FBI agent quickly drew his pistols and unloaded all fourteen rounds into his three targets. Fifty caliber chucks of hot lead bore through the creatures’ flesh. They flopped to the ground simultaneously as their collective juices began to pool underneath them leaving them twitching in a crimson pool.