Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) (61 page)

For the first time since this fight began, Michael could feel his opponent’s defense diminishing. Myung-Ho tried desperately to combat the brutal offensive put forth by him but couldn’t seem to get a lethal swing in as much as his skill and strength allowed. Unfortunately, for Michael, his efforts appeared fruitless as well. Every swing and swipe grazed only steel and not the flesh his blade had hungered for. The former FBI agent knew what he had to do but his body may never forgive him for this decision.

Michael delivered a long sweeping strike. It cut the air over the soldier’s head and he braced himself as the counterattack struck him back quick and deep against his hip. Agony blared on all cylinders but this was Michael’s only opportunity. He turned his blade in midair and drove the tip down into Myung-Ho’s exposed ribs. The Korean howled in pain for the first time as Michael twisted his handle and opened up the wound to form a complete circle. He removed the blade and sent Myung-Ho packing with a wicked uppercut. It didn’t knock him down but now he fully understood the strength and tenacity of his opponent. Michael wasn’t about to give up no matter how much he bled. He’d come too far to be stopped now. His mission was nowhere near completion and one man or a hundred drugged out on his lifeblood wasn’t about to stop him now.

Myung-Ho took a few steps back. It appeared the soldier was still rattled from the pair of blows recently landed. Michael moved in for the kill. He threw three sweeping strikes that connected beautifully across the Korean’s flesh. Blood vomited from the newly opened wounds and coated the ultimate human soldier’s clothing in crimson paint. Ryoo shrieked once more but quickly turned and retaliated with his own attacks. Michael didn’t even both to counter them. They traded blows and cuts atop the roof of the White House. This was no longer a battle. This was an endurance trial.

Steel fought flesh high above the air as the two combatants continued to dish out furious strikes towards one another. Michael had stopped counting or even registering his body being sliced apart and judging by his adversary’s expression, the feeling was mutual. The desperation on Myung-Ho’s face was abundant. The former FBI agent was cracking his armor and it only further pushed him to strike harder and faster than physically conceivable. However, the loss of blood Michael had experienced throughout the day had finally caught up with him. The corners of his eyes started to blur and his head began floating along a string of clouds. He stopped feeling anything, even his own rage and cruised on autopilot until a wary fist crashed into his temple and forced him to disengage.

Apparently Ryoo Myung-Ho had enough of this exchange. His clothing was in tatters. Blood stained every visible portion of his bruised and sliced body. In the blink of an eye, Michael had pummeled his adversary to the brink of exhaustion. Pants and wheezes forced their way through the Korean’s lungs. He no longer had the smug demeanor of an invincible warrior. But, the most crucial factor the former FBI agent noticed was Myung-ho’s rapid regeneration factor or rather, lack thereof. It was a sight befitting of a celebration. Michael’s gamble had paid off.

The world was spinning. Michael couldn't sharpen his sight or senses. Instincts were the only tool at his disposal. A large red blur speed towards his direction. With every inch closer it came, the image started to come clean. Myung-Ho rushed towards Michael with his blade forward and impaled the former FBI through the stomach. The sharpened steel cut right through his meager Kevlar armor as he felt all sixteen inches of hostile metal taking residence in his gut.

Michael grabbed the bladed arm with his free hand. He clenched his teeth as blood began to splatter and stain the enamel. Myung-Ho tried to push and drag the ultimate human soldier hoping to make the wound deeper and larger but he wouldn't budge. There was no way Michael was going to be moved especially considering the current condition of his adversary. His cells have been drained of their strength. He is no longer the mighty brute he once was. Michael may be on the worse end of Myung-Ho's blade but he still has two distinct advantages. The child of Project Mabus couldn't be drained of his genetic gifts like a popped water raft and as of right now, he was in control of both weapons.

Lightning struck the Korean’s arm. The kodachi dug into the softened flesh of his exposed elbow. He cried out in a dreadfully violent roar as his arm pleaded for mercy and release from this agony. Michael twisted the blade once more, severing all of the precious tendons that controlled use of the hand and completing taking the appendage out of this fight.

Screams continued to fill the air of the White House. The former FBI agent pulled back and cracked his skull against the soldier's jaw. Myung-Ho reeled as he was forcibly disengaged from the encounter no longer possessing the sharp piece of steel that was still embedded into Michael's stomach. He cringed as hard as his body could afford as blood tried to seep out of the freshly grazed wound. It has been too long sing Michael had tasted the bitter copper flavored liquid filling his mouth.

The hideous slurping screech of the sword exiting his stomach would be forever etched into his memory. It would take quite a while for this wound to be patched up, even for Michael's increased rate of regeneration. The same couldn't be said for Ryoo Myung-Ho as he continued to screech and moan over his countless injuries. As the effects of God-Slayer have weakened, so had the Korean soldier's fighting prowess. They were both at their limits. The sun was about to set on this glorious battle and a victor would soon be determined.

Anger filled the skies as Myung-Ho screamed. His lungs would not soon recover from those burns as he raced ahead hoping to tear the ultimate human soldier apart with his bare hands. Michael braced himself as he tossed the Korean’s weapon aside. Two fists cracked against Michael’s protective forearms. They didn't nearly have the weight they once possessed but it was still enough to push Michael back and force his defenses to work overtime.

The former FBI agent's arms had the mass and density of Jersey barriers. Their weight alone was already too much to carry but trying to swing them proved impossible. Michael continued to take the pummeling with nothing to return in his defense. Rage fueled the Korean has he drove punch after punch into the ultimate human soldier’s battered body. His throat roared with every hit as his offense grew louder and louder. He was no longer using any of the skills or techniques taught to him. Ryoo Myung-Ho had reverted to pure animalistic instincts in the hope of ending this man's life once and for all. The very same thing happened to the previous phony ultimate human soldier.

Knees quaked under the weight of Ryoo's assault and Michael's fledgling resistance. Prolonging the battle any longer would be futile. The ultimate human soldier had to go in for the kill. He clenched the kodachi blade tight his hand and narrowly avoided the next attack. Michael screamed as spun forward, swinging the blade up and cutting the soldier through the chest and leaving a three inch foot-long incision in its wake. The former FBI agent followed through on the turn and vaulted his heel like a tornado, crashing his mighty boot across Myung-Ho's skull.

The revolution was too much for his withered and battered to take. Michael collapsed and tumbled on the ground. The kodachi blade trickled from his grip and landed into an empty plot next to him just inches out of reach. Freshly dripped pools of blood baked in the setting sun next to him. Michael Madison had finally hit his peak. Throughout his years of experience, his body was always able to stand above the rest. It never once disobeyed a direct order and continued to push itself through hell in order to achieve his mind’s goals. Today was a humbling experience. The former FBI agent tried to push himself up. His body jittered and shook but would not respond to the direct order.

Helicopters buzzed in the distance. It was impossible to tell how long they had been battling. It may have been only a matter of minutes but they had sure put on a show for the world to see. Michael couldn't tell if they were civilian or military grade at this point but it was of no consequence. As he regained his vision, he could see Ryoo Myung-Ho settled on one knee. The ultimate human soldier’s last ditch effort wasn't enough to finish the job. His body demanded he quit. It would no longer listen to any commands.

The gravity of the situation began to settle in. Michael had pushed himself countless times to the brink of death but nothing quite like this. He had a job to do. Agent M had to be buried once and for all and this was the last link to it. Michael had vowed to end its existence but even with the fate of this nation on the line, it still wasn't enough to give him the one last boost he needed. Michael wasn't fighting because of the job, duty, or honor. He could feel the fading beats of his heart jump up just once as soon as the image of what he was fighting for sink into his mind. Even with his face to the ground and the odds against him, he wasn't about to fail her now.

Michael slammed his fists into the roof and began pushing himself up. He growled in defiance as he rose. Ryoo Myung-Ho appeared to have recovered from the assault. This would truly be the former FBI agent's last hurrah. His body wouldn't allow any more energy or blood to be expended. Ultimate human soldier or not, everybody has their limits and it took over three decades for Michael to find his.

The Korean began coughing and convulsing the distance. It was as if he were being possessed by a spiritual demon. His body jolted and snapped with every crack of his voice. Michael's eyes enlarged. He had seen this behavior not even an hour earlier. All of the blood draining from his body must have accelerated his descent into madness. The beasts he fought in that warehouse were primal, rabid, and ferocious. The former FBI agent didn't possess the strength to deal with even one more of those foul monsters. He only had one last trick up his sleeve. It may not be as elegant as it was when he put down Ryoo Myung-Dae but there was no doubting its effectiveness if he pulled it off.

Metal scrapped across the ground as the dagger dragged through the exposed roof. Michael breathed just a bit easier with the kodachi back in his possession. He gripped it with his left hand stretched over his body with the blade resting on his hip.

The newly turned beast leapt high into the air. Ryoo Myung-Ho may not have fully possessed the claws and fangs of his brethren but the ferocious desire for combat still remained. It was all he needed to become the ultimate force to be reckoned with.

The window was fading. Michael only had once chance to get this right. The Korean sailed overhead and with his body completely parallel to the roof, the former FBI agent took his shot. Michael rocketed the blade up and outward. It spun violently in the wind as it defied gravity. The beast wailed as the kodachi embedded itself deep into Ryoo's exposed neck. The only thing stopping it from cutting right through was the reinforced bone structure of the drugged out Korean. Ryoo Myung-Ho ignored the pain and the blade jutting out of his neck as he continued descending. He stretched his arms out and reached for his opponent.

Michael clenched his body as he turned against the direction of his throw and spun his body outward. The former FBI agent planted his left foot deep into the damaged structure of the roof and cracked the continuously beaten surface as his right leg lifted into the air. The awaiting clawing hands of his foe were inches away from his skull. Michael vaulted his foot high as his entire body spun. Tatters of his coat danced along the thrust as he opened up like a cocoon. Michael screamed at the top of his lungs as his legs split and launched his right foot right into the exposed chin of the falling Korean soldier.

Sound cracked against the force of the blow shaking the foundations of the White House battleground. Ryoo Myung-Ho's body crashed to the ground and began to flop uncontrollably as blood gushed out of the gaping hole between his shoulders. His head landed clear across the other side of the roof and bounced for a few yards before stopping completely. The stupidly angered grin was forever stuck on his face.

The ultimate human soldier landed and reeled back to one knee. He had just enough time to admire his work before the darkness crept in completely. His mind was put at ease for a moment when the sirens and calls of law enforcement officers swarmed all around his perimeter. The battle had finally ended. Michael fell forward. His skull slapping the ground never felt so good. As he drifted into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness, there were still one prominent thought in his mind. He hoped the Paladin had come through with his promise, otherwise this was going to be the world's shortest nap. Putting the final nail in the coffin for Agent M would hopefully put an end to fights like these. The former FBI agent had no desire to recreate or experience this ever again.

Michael enjoyed on last sweet breath as the dark clouds enveloped his body. The last thing he remembered before the dark void was knowing that even though he was unemployed, there would still be a familiar smiling face waiting for him upon his return.

March 29th, 2013 8:00AM

Undisclosed Location

The stage was set in the tribunal room. This sacred hall was used for the highest members of the organization known as Testament to discuss matters of worldly importance. Walls were simple bricks painted in black. The ancient crest of the order was painted in a circle in pure silver. The furniture was as old as the organization itself but it looked pristine and freshly polished. Five seats were arranged on the high bench were reserved for Paladins and the highest member of their order, the Father. They all sat and deliberated the findings and reports from one of their esteemed members. Not even the knights, the Father's esteemed council of elders were allowed to attend these meetings.