The God Blood

“Godhood, much like the idea of the ‘perfect’ individual, exists more as a symbol rather than something tangible. It is an avatar that exists within the mind. It is moronic to think that such a thing could ever be achieved physically when everything in science, nature, and mathematics proves otherwise. But like the bumblebee, we strive for flight regardless of what natural laws tell us. Who knows, perhaps one day we’ll get lucky.”

-Unknown (Pre-cataclysm Metropia)

***

“Good morning Metropia! It’s going to be another scorcher today with a high of one-hundred and ten. Radiation levels are only slightly elevated, but still be sure to protect yourselves--”

Dr. Albert Milan switched off the radio with a huff of distaste.

The news anchor’s voice irritated him. The weather irritated him. His colleagues, that overweight buffoon Johann in particular, irritated him.

The only thing that didn’t irritate him was the promised work of the God Blood project.

He’d received the alert of the project’s green-light earlier in the night--wait.

It is a new day, he thought.

A new day full of new opportunities, like the chance to have his name immortalized in the annals of history, for a start.

He would achieve this and so much more once the results of the God Blood project were brought to fruition.

Albert closed his eyes and let his mind wander over the possible outcome. No, not possible. He would achieve his goal of harnessing the power of the God Blood.

A knock at his door drew his attention from his musings.

The door opened and a portly man stuck a balding head and mustachioed face in.

Johann Inger, Albert thought, feeling his irritation spike.

“We are ready to begin!” Johann said. His brows bobbed up and down as he spoke each word and excitement was evident in his features.

“For god’s sake Johann, enough with the eyebrows,” Albert snapped. “You look like a B-rated comedic washout when you do that.”

Johann lifted his eyebrows twice more, for effect, and smiled back at the man.

“Oh come now Albert. You must not have slept last night. I didn’t either.”

“One would never guess,” Albert muttered.

“They are readying the immersion tanks as we speak. I’ll tell the other gents you are on the way.” Johann said, and retracted his head from the doorway.

Albert groaned, glancing at his empty coffee mug with a wistful expression. It was going to be a long day.

Five minutes and several mugs of coffee later, Albert wound his way down through the honeycomb labyrinth of sterile white corridors that was MetLab’s sub-levels.

He panted with exertion. He’d decided last minute to walk the distance instead of calling for a shuttle. What an idiotic idea, inspired by a large amount of coffee over a short period of time.

His heart thundered in his chest, but was outmatched by the steady pulse of his own excitement and the warm burn of caffeine heat in his cheeks.

For the first time in one hundred years, the secrets behind the mysterious God Blood solution, and the cataclysm that followed, would be revealed.

Albert approached the door to the viewing chamber and placed a hand on the access panel to the door’s right.

The panel sent a green bar of light up and down his palm, and then beeped in affirmation.

Albert leaned over until his eyes were level with the panel.

This time a thin laser shot from the panel’s center and beamed into his left eye, then his right.

His eyes watered, wanting to shut out the intrusive light, but he fought back the desire and held them open until the procedure was complete.

The panel flashed blue before the door slid open on well-oiled tracks.

Albert stepped into the bright white room.

The viewing chamber was little more than a square cube. The ceilings and walls were all white and lit with a radiant back-light.

Any of the surfaces except the floor were able to display information projected from any workstation or handheld, transforming the room into one giant monitor at the click of a button.

Four men stood huddled around a crescent-shaped desk, all hunched over and peering at something out of Albert’s range of vision.

Circling the group was a series of ovular pods, each big enough to hold a single person. The pods gleamed with the light of the room like giant white eggs.

Albert had used the viewing pods before, but never for longer than an hour. Using them for too long posed the risk of dissociation from reality given the immersive nature of the pod’s technology.

He approached the group, but stopped several feet away when he noticed the unfamiliar face.

Albert coughed several times to get the group’s attention.

General Joseph Merkum was the first to lift his head.

“Ah, doctor. Good of you to join us,” the general said and nodded once.

Albert nodded back, but said nothing. He was always cautious around the general. The man had an agenda, as always, that Albert suspected didn’t fully align with his own goals for the project.

But this was to be expected. When power of this magnitude was the prize, it was a guarantee that the military would be involved to some degree.

Merkum was the source of the project’s renewed life and the financial backer, so despite Albert’s hesitations, he went out of his way to make sure Merkum was satisfied and felt in control at all times.

A little ass-kissery goes a long way, Albert thought.

One by one, the other members of the group looked up and acknowledged Albert’s presence.

“Albert! The time has come my friend. Are you ready to make history?” said Dr. Allen Kirby, the second most-tenured scientist of the bunch, behind Albert himself.

“Indeed,” Albert replied.

Contrary to his opinion of Johann, Albert held much respect for Allen. He would even go so far as to call the man his friend.

A third scientist looked up, one Albert didn’t recognize. He was a bulky man, his muscles stretching his lab coat to its limits.

A stern expression plastered the man’s face as he offered Albert a curt nod.

“Albert, allow me to introduce Dr. Mathias Leeman. He is a last-minute addition to the project. I’m sure his work in quantum dynamics will prove useful,” the general said.

“But of course,” Albert replied. “What ever you think is best, General.”

The new addition to the team didn’t sit right with Albert. He, Allen, and Johann had spent the past two years preparing, studying, and perfecting their knowledge of particle physics and quantum fluid dynamics. They had a plan and this Leeman wasn’t a part of it.

“Gentlemen. I’m sure you are all aware of the importance of the project. We need results. Metropia’s enemies grow by the day,” Merkum said. He let his words linger in the air before continuing.

“The vid we will be watching is from a direct observer of the events leading to the cataclysm. It is my hope that it will shed some light on what happened, so we can prevent a similar catastrophe.”

Johann raised a hand.

Albert groaned. “Put you damn hand down man. We aren’t schoolboys any longer.”

Johann bounced his eyebrows in the affirmative.

“Wouldn’t it be more prudent to inspect the project documentation before we proceed?” he asked, directing his question towards the general.

Merkum paused, glancing off to the side of the room before answering.

“We have recovered most of the project details and will provide those to you once the vid briefing is finished. I want you all to get a feel for the events and environment leading up to the cataclysm before you dive into the paperwork.”

That is a lie, Albert thought. He knew Merkum well enough by now. The general had likely already reconstructed the experiment, or at least the quantum machine needed to produce the fluid.

The general waved a hand through the air, indicating the viewing pods.

“When you are ready, enter your pods and I will begin the playback.”

Albert approached his pod, running a hand down its smooth surface. He keyed in several numbers on a side panel and then stepped back.

A horizontal slit appeared in the middle of the pod, stretching the pod’s length. The top portion rose into the air revealing a wide cushioned seat of supple leather. A ledge of switches and small monitors encircled the seat.

Albert stepped into the pod and seated himself, wiggling down into the leather until he felt comfortable.

He pulled a set of small, round objects, each the size of a pebble, from a tray the protruded from the left side of the pod’s interior.

He stuck one of the two immersion tokens to each temple, then reclined in the seat. He took several deep breaths before flicking a switch on the armrest.

Albert felt his consciousness jerked from his body. It swirled through a tunnel of digital light: electric blues and greens, vibrant yellows, pinks, and reds. He felt his mind pulled down, down, down.

His progress halted before a wall of chromatic light. He could sense the consciousness of the others around him, also stopped before the wall.

“One moment. I’m opening holes in the firewall to let you through,” came the general’s disembodied voice.

A moment later, Albert sensed several openings form in the chromatic wall and he proceeded through one.

On the other side of the firewall was a scene of reality, frozen in motion.

A man, early-thirties, stood just outside of an apartment door. His arm was raised to ring the doorbell.

Albert noticed the hand-carved wood of the door frame, and the complex security cameras inlaid within the doorbell. Both were signs of wealth.

He felt his consciousness settle into the man’s body, felt his coupling with the man’s mind and senses. He became the man.

“Immersion at seventy-five percent,” said the general. “Before we complete the process, a quick briefing.”

“The man is Commander Zane Lincoln. He was a member of a black-book internal security service that was tasked with security oversight of the God Blood project. The woman you will see is Dr. Grace Everheart, one of the scientists first tasked to the project.

“I want you all to pay close attention to any detail you think pertinent to the project. Now matter how insignificant it may seem. We need to know what caused the cataclysm and if it was preventable.

“Good luck, gentleman,” Merkum said.

***

Zane knocked three times and then twice on the door. It was Grace’s and his secret pattern.

The door opened.

A woman’s arms shot out and grabbed Zane by the jacket front. With surprising strength, the woman jerked him inside the doorway.

Zane found a warm set of lips pressed firmly to his own, and he let himself melt into the kiss.

Grace separated from him after several heated seconds. She stepped back, her red high heels clicking on the polished wood floor.

“You’re still dressed from work?” Zane said between ragged breaths.

“Hardly,” Grace said, her voice heavy with desire.

Grace opened her white lab coat, revealing a delicious set of silk lingerie. Her bra strained to contain her supple bust, and the bottom portion of the ensemble was little more than a string of red satin.

Zane took a moment and let his gaze wander over every delicious curve, every toned muscle, every inch of her perfect caramel skin. He felt heat rise in his groin, and groaned with carnal hunger.

Grace took step after sultry step towards him, exaggerating the sway of her hips, until she pressed against him.

“Oh boy,” she said. “Looks like you came prepared.” She flashed a delighted grin down towards his waist.

They spent the next two hours exploring each other’s bodies, giving in to each other’s carnal desires, as their sweat, their heat, their very souls intermingled.

When they were finished, Grace fell back against her bed’s headboard. She reached to her left and pulled a cigarette from the pack resting next to the bedside lamp.

“I swear I only keep this pack for when you come over,” she said, between exhalations of smoke.

“Smoke. Don’t smoke. I don’t care. Doesn’t change how I feel about you,” Zane said.

Grace flashed him a wistful smile.

“Soon we won’t have to hide it. Once the project is finished, we can be overt.”

Zane frowned. “I’m worried about the project. What it will mean if you succeed. Such power will change everything.”

“For the better!” Grace replied.

“Maybe in a perfect world,” Zane said. “But I know humanity better than that. We aren’t ready for something like this.”

Grace tamped the cigarette out and the leaned over and cupped Zane’s face in her hands.

“It will be okay Zane. I promise.”

Zane took one of Grace’s hands and kissed it, then turned her hand over to face palm up. He ran his fingers over the tattoo there, a black ring with a single dot in the center.

“The Mark of Mykah,” he said. “You still haven’t told me what it was that you used to do for them.”

Grace’s face adopted a guarded expression. She withdrew her hand from Zane’s.

“Not yet, Zane. I promise I will tell you, but not yet,” she said in a soft tone.

Zane took Grace’s chin in his hand and lifted her face so that her eyes were level with his own. He kissed her once, a deep tender kiss.

“When you’re ready,” he said.

She smiled up at him, reassurance in her eyes, before she rested her head on his muscled chest. His scent filled her and she let its calming influence overtake her.

The two were fast asleep within minutes.

***

Albert Milan. Who is Albert Milan? I feel as if I should know this name, Albert thought.

I am Albert Milan. Albert. Milan. Me.

Albert regained his own consciousness, piece by piece, until he was in complete control of his psyche.

He heard the disembodied groans of the others as their minds also returned to their own bodies.

“How is everyone feeling?” came the general’s voice.

“Groggy,” Leeman said with gravel in his voice. “And like I need to fuck something.”

“How quaint,” Albert said.

Merkum ignored the comments. “Any observations of note?”

“Was that really necessary?” Albert said. “Subjecting us to that smut?”

“Speak for yourself,” replied Leeman. “She was smokin’ hot.”

“Keep your perverse thoughts to yourself Leeman,” Albert hissed.

“Gentlemen! Enough bickering. Anyone have any intelligent input?” Merkum said.

“What was that ‘Mark of Mykah’ they referred to?” Kirby said.

“Excellent question,” said the general. “The Order of Mykah was a radical group of cyber-terrorists from the previous decade. We believe they had a hand in the events leading up to the cataclysm, but are unsure to what extent. It is your secondary objective to discover the level of the Order’s involvement.”

Johann spoke next. “So the commander was a part of the security team assigned to the project, and Dr. Everheart was the chief scientist?”

“Correct,” General Merkum replied.

“Everheart had a previous connection with the Order of Mykah. I think that is a good starting point. Perhaps she never left their service,” Johann suggested.

“I’ve had similar thoughts. Anyway, let’s hold off on any more speculation until the rest of the vid is reviewed,” Merkum said.

“I am moving the footage up to the day of the cataclysm. I’ve been told it is--well, you’ll just have to see it. Prepare yourselves.”

Once again, Albert felt his consciousness pulled through the firewall. It settled into the man from one hundred years ago, on that fateful day that changed the lives of so many.

***

The surveillance shuttle wobbled in the gusting wind, causing Zane to shift in his seat.

He leaned out of the open hatch, his gaze roving over the metropolis several hundred feet below him.

As far as his sight could reach, the city of Metropia sprawled in every direction. It covered just over eighty square miles, crossing three rivers and two deltas.

Towering steel giants pocked the horizon, each reaching towards the heavens like an industrial finger touching the clouds.

Amidst the urban jungle of steel and glass, millions of people marched to and from their destinations; insects caught up in the current of bodies like flotsam in a river after a hard rain. The airways weren’t much better. They were as congested as the streets and railways below.

Zane looked on with distaste. The city had reached a population of twenty million, a staggering number.

We are a virus, he thought. When the sky held no room for them to expand, humanity would be forced underground, like roaches.

And Grace thinks they are ready. Ridiculous.

The surveillance shuttle made another lazy circle around the top of the Metropia Robotics and Research tower.

Zane had requested additional security details, and the surveillance craft, the night prior. He suspected that if anything were to go wrong, it would happen today.

Today was the day the God Blood project came to fruition. The final experiment. Human trials.

So far Metropia R&R had received three bomb threats, two cyber attacks, and one intriguing phone call which he believed had originated from the Order of Mykah and their affiliates.

Thousands of people, with angry faces and shaking fists, lined the streets outside of the tower. Many of them believed that the research into the God Blood solution was a traversal into the realm of the gods, a forbidden thing.

Still others, believing the same as the protesters, looked forward to the outcome with eager anticipation. In their minds, humanity was taking a long-overdue step into the next phase of evolution.

Grace feels that way, Zane thought.

“Commander,” a voice crackled in his headphones, “the lab is reporting a disturbance in the parking garage. Sub-level two.”

“What kind of disturbance?” he said into his helmet’s microphone.

“A nondescript white van just broke through the security checkpoint. No markings, no plates. Windows are completely blacked out.”

“Swing us into view of the garage’s entrance,” he replied.

The hovercraft roared with thrust and maneuvered to the side, forcing Zane to clamp down on the straps of his harness.

A moment later, he was looking down at the entrance to the parking garage through the scope of his carbine.

A line of people spilled from the garage’s opening, each with their hands raised above their hands in a sign of surrender.

Black uniformed men with rifles rushed to encircle the group, before ushering them into the back of a police van.

“Status?” Zane said. “It looks like they are cleaning up.”

“Affirmative, Sir. They have neutralized the intruders and secured the van. I believe they are--”

The pilot’s voice was cut off by the thunderclap of an explosion above them.

Zane looked up just in time to see a cloud of glass, steel, and concrete falling towards the shuttle’s rotors.

“EVADE!” Zane screamed into his headset. “HARD RIGHT!”

The shuttle banked hard to the right, throwing Zane to the side. His helmet cracked against the metallic frame of the shuttle’s interior.

Concrete rubble struck the tail of the hovercraft, sending its nose straight up into the air.

“Jesus, level out. Level out!” Zane shouted.

The pilot wrestled with the stick for a moment, before regaining control of the wild craft.

“We are in the clear,” the pilot said. Her voice was thick with relief.

“Excellent flying,” Zane said. “Now, bring us around to look at that explosion.”

His heart pounded in his chest. The tower was under attack. A real attack. Something had exploded at the top levels of the tower, where the lab for the project was.

“Commander, we are receiving broken communications from the security teams inside the tower.

“Three groups of heavily armed personnel have infiltrated the building and are making their way towards the lab.”

The van must have been a diversion, Zane thought.

“Where are the damn security droids?” Zane said with heat.

“The droids on shift were never enabled,” the pilot said. “One moment.”

Zane pounded his fist against the shuttle’s frame with impatience.

“I’ve confirmed the droids on duty were never activated. The technician responsible hasn’t been seen since late last night.” After a moment the pilot added, “We think the technician was either killed or captured.”

“Shit,” Zane muttered with a grimace. This was not going well. He had to get to Grace.

“Sir!” the pilot shouted into the headset, “We’re getting reports now that some of the security droid were re-purposed. They are attacking our men!”

Zane took a deep breath, then checked the weapons and ammunition fastened to his person.

“Take us down to hover just above the roof. I’m going to enter through the service hatch on the eastern side and try to work my way down to the lab.”

“But, Sir, that’s crazy! You can’t face three armed teams and rogue security droids. It’s suicide--”

“What the hell do you think will happen if they get their hands on the God Blood?” Zane said. “They could wipe out the entire city. Maybe worse. Get me down to that damn roof!”

“Yes Sir!” snapped the pilot.

The shuttle climbed, passing the scorched orifice of broken glass and metal where the explosion had originated from. It was twenty floors below the roof, and five floors below the lab.

Zane would have to traverse fifteen levels to reach the lab. He would be moving fast, trying to catch up to the intruders, but he’d also have to proceed with caution. If one of the security droids caught him, he’d be riddled with hot lead in a matter of seconds.

A voice crackled to life in his headset, different from that of the pilot’s voice.

“Commander, this is HQ.”

“I read you HQ,” Zane said.

“Safeties off Commander. You are cleared to use lethal force to secure the project.”

“Roger that,” Zane said. “Lethal force authorized.”

“Commander, you are not to discriminate in your targets. Remove anyone that stands in your way. We must secure the project. The city’s very safety is at stake.”

“I understand HQ,” he said with a grimace. “Any idea who the perps are?”

“Analysts put responsibility on the Order of Mykah, but there may be a number of adversarial insiders involved. Remain vigilant.”

“Copy HQ.”

“Commander,” the pilot said. “We are hovering fifty feet above the roof. It’s the best I can do.”

“Hold steady,” Zane said. He unbuckled the harness straps and shuffled closer to the door. He tossed his carbine over his shoulder, its straps securing it to his back, and grabbed a rail hanging above the hatch entrance.

He stepped down onto the shuttle’s runner, squinting his eyes against the blast of wind that met him.

Zane focused his mind. He didn’t give two shits about the city, or its inhabitants. All he cared about was getting to Grace. If saving the city saved her, then he was game.

He stepped off of the runner and dropped like a stone, his stomach shooting up into his throat. Wind gusted around him as he fell through the open air sending an exhilarating chill up his spine.

The rooftop raced up to meet him. He had to time this just right or he would break his legs, or worse.

Just before his body slammed into the roof, he fired the thrusters in his boots and twin jets of flame ignited the concrete in a small circle around his landing area. He cut the thrusters just before he reached the surface.

His boots slammed down onto the rooftop but otherwise he was unharmed.

“HQ. I’m on the roof. Proceeding inside. Going silent,” Zane said.

“Roger that Commander. Good shooting.”

Zane switched off his helmet radio. Any electronic communications could be picked up by the intruders, or the rogue security droids. Neither situation would prove beneficial if he wanted to keep breathing.

He slipped his carbine over his shoulder and chinned a button in his helmet to activate the HUD. Then he approached the door to the building’s roof entrance.

A holographic display dropped down over his eyes, overlapping what he saw.

Just inside the door were two heat signatures. Two people. Security droids gave off different heat readings.

He pulled a stun grenade from his belt and clicked the red button at the top twice. In his mind he counted to ten.

At seven, he kicked open the door and tossed the grenade in.

A chorus of shouts echoed out of the doorway.

Zane moved around the side of the entrance just as the grenade went off, taking cover behind a wall of thick concrete.

The two men’s screams turned to moans of pain and confusion.

A quick check of his HUD showed the two writhing on the ground with their hands covering their faces.

Zane slipped through the open door, his eyes landing on the two men in seconds. In one fluid motion he raised his carbine to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger, once, twice.

Two shots. Two kills.

The men’s writhing ceased.

Zane moved further into the stairwell and leaned over the railing.

Five floors below, the stairwell ended in a jagged ball of twisted metal and scorched concrete. The gap extended over several floors making it too far to jump across.

Zane muttered a curse and slung his carbine over his shoulder. He pulled a pack from his back, unzipped it, and uncoiled the rope that was bundled inside.

He tied the rope around one of the sturdier metal bars of the stairwell railing, giving the rope a couple of jerks to make sure it would hold his weight. Then he stepped over the railing. The idea was to repel down as far as he could go, all the way to the lab if he could manage it.

A deep rumble echoed up from below him. It shook the entire stairwell with violent vibrations that increased in intensity the longer the rumbling continued.

Zane felt his grip on the rope slipping. He reached out to grab the railing just as a massive quake struck the tower.

His hand missed the railing.

He screamed as he plummeted down through the empty space of the stairwell’s interior. His hands sought any purchase they could find in a desperate attempt to stop his lethal fall. The bars of the railing flew by him but he couldn’t land a solid hold on one of them.

In one last ditch effort he reached out for something, anything.

His left hand found the rope and Zane clamped down on it with a strength he didn’t know he possessed.

His shoulder popped as it was jerked from the socket, but he managed to slow his descent and then halt it.

He grimaced at the pain and took several deep breaths to ease his racing heart. For now his arm was useless until he could pop his shoulder back into place.

Zane grappled with the rope. He had two levels to go before he reached the floor the lab was on. It was an excruciating experience that left his forehead beaded in sweat and his face drawn with pain, but he managed to reach the correct floor and fling himself over the railing.

He landed hard on his back and remained there. He sucked in breath after ragged breath, preparing himself for what he had to do.

Another rumble tore through the the tower, this one every bit as violent as the last.

Zane wedged himself half way between two spokes of the railing and, one-armed, clung to the spoke with all of his strength.

Once the violent quaking passed, he stood up and turned to face the outer wall of the stairwell. He removed the glove from the hand of his injured arm and placed it between his teeth, biting down as hard as he could without cracking his teeth on the carbon-fiber knuckles.

He slammed his injured shoulder into the wall again and again, until a sickening crunch and a sharp lance of pain told him that his shoulder was back in place.

Tears of pain streamed down his cheeks and his jaw hurt from biting down on the glove, but he could move his shoulder again, albeit with a sharp twinge at each movement.

Zane wiped his eyes on his sleeve and then proceeded towards the stairwell exit. He’d made it to the correct floor.

As he approached the door, he smelled the scent of burning electronics. Beneath that was the scent of burning flesh and something else--a tangy, chemical sweetness the was just noticeable.

He chinned on his HUD, it had been disabled during his fall, and switched on his radio. He’d have to risk a communication attempt with HQ. He needed intel. Something was happening in the lab, something powerful enough to shake the entire tower.

His ears were met with the sounds of static and nothing else.

Zane growled in frustration and pulled the broken radio from his belt, unplugging the cable that led to his headset within the helmet.

The radio sparked and crackled. It was the source of the burnt electronics smell.

He tossed the radio over the side of the railing before turning back towards the exit.

He chinned his HUD back on. The screen flickered but still worked.

Two large figures, each with a wide triangular torso and thin, stick legs stood on the other side of the door. They were too big to be human, their heads too small, and their heat signatures were too low.

Security droids, he thought. He pulled another grenade from his belt, this one an EMP charge, and set the timer on it. He set the charge against the door and moved back towards the center of the stairwell.

He chinned off his HUD and did likewise for all electronics attached to his person. He didn’t want to fry everything with the EMP blast.

Zane pulled a bullet from the top of a spare clip in his belt. He tossed it at the door.

The bullet cracked against the door frame.

Zane heard the heavy footsteps of the security droids followed by the sound of the door opening. He turned away from the door and crouched down, closing his eyes.

The EMP charge popped just as the security droids stepped through the door.

A flash of white pierced his closed eyelids followed by the sizzling sound of burning electronics. Two heavy metallic thumps reverberated through the concrete floor as the droids dropped.

Zane chinned his HUD back on and scanned the corridor on the other side of the door. It was clear.

He stepped into the corridor. It was a mess. Chunks of scorched white tile littered the hallway, mixed together with jagged pieces of broken glass.

Several offices with large glass windows for walls lined the corridor, but none of them had survived whatever chaos had erupted here earlier.

Zane spotted a body wrapped in a bloody white lab coat half-hanging out of one of the broken office windows.

He moved over to it, avoiding the broken glass as best as he could.

The dead scientist was a man, mid-forties, with short salt-and-pepper hair. Several bullet wounds pocked his body and face. Judging by the size of the wounds and the carnage of the torn flesh, these were larger rounds. This man had been killed by the security droids.

Zane pulled a key card from a lanyard attached to the scientist’s belt. He wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

He struggled to control his rising anger. Whoever had reprogrammed the droids was going to pay for the scientist’s death, for all the deaths caused this day. He vowed he would make sure they did. But right now, he had to make sure nobody else died. He had to make sure Grace was okay.

He glanced down the corridor. The lab’s entrance was further ahead and around the corner.

He inched his way along, finding more debris, more destroyed offices, and more bodies. The closer he got to the lab, the more bodies he found, most of which were perforated with bullet holes like the scientist he’d discovered.

As he reached the corner of corridor, he stopped.

Screams echoed down the hallway, from the direction of the lab entrance. They were followed by sounds of pounding footfalls. Someone was headed his direction and fast.

Zane took several steps back and crouched, raising his carbine.

Two scientists in white lab coats turned the corner. They were covered in blood, but not from any wounds Zane could see.

He released the trigger and lowered the weapon. He raised a hand to the scientists--

A burst of gunfire thundered down the corridor just as one of the scientists made eye contact with him.

The scientists twitched and jerked mid-run, not a dozen feet in front of Zane. They fell to the ground with pools of red spreading from them.

Zane swore and pulled another EMP charge from his belt. It was his last one. His HUD showed two more large figures poised just outside of the lab entrance. Both droids had their arms raised and pointed in the direction of the now-dead scientists.

“Bastards,” he muttered. He approached the inner corner of the corridor turn. He set the timer of the EMP charge and tossed it around the corner as hard as he could.

Gunfire erupted from the droids’ arms and several chunks of wall tile exploded inches from Zane’s face. He pulled back around the corner.

Tracking the EMP charge in his HUD he watched as it flew through the air.

It exploded halfway down the corridor as it was struck by a rogue bullet from one of the droid’s arm cannons.

One droid pitched forward, its arms lowering, and it fell to the ground in a shower of sparks. The other sprinted towards him at an inhuman speed.

He had to move fast or the droid would be on him in seconds. It could tear him limb from limb if it caught him.

An idea popped into Zane’s head. He pulled his last stun grenade from his belt and clicked the top twice before setting it down on the ground by his feet.

He crept backwards and ducked into an empty office on his right before turning away.

The stun grenade wouldn’t affect the droid other than blinding it for a short time, but it would be all the time he needed.

Zane pulled a beam tool from his belt and turned it on. A concentrated blade of photons shot out of the tip.

He waited until the stun grenade exploded and then dove through a door on the adjacent wall of the office, bringing him into the corridor behind the droid.

The droid fired its arm cannon, spraying the corridor in the direction of the stairwell with a blind hail of bullets.

Zane jumped at the droid’s back, landing hard on its smooth metal shoulders. He plunged the beam tool down, over and over, into the base of the droid’s neck.

Bluish fluid sprayed over his hands and face, but he shut his eyes and kept stabbing amidst the droid’s frantic bucking.

A metal hand clamped down on Zane’s left hand. He screamed as the bones of his wrist shattered, but he kept stabbing.

The droid jerked him over its shoulder and, still holding his wrist, slammed him down hard into the unforgiving tile floor.

The blow knocked the wind from Zane, and he had just enough time to look up an see a dagger-like appendage plunge towards his face.

A spark burst from the side of the droid’s neck followed by a spray of blue fluid. The pointed appendage slowed just enough for Zane to roll out of its way, before it slammed down into the tile floor, parting the stone as easily as a hot knife parting butter.

The droid fell still, a puddle of the blue fluid collecting beneath it.

Zane released a relieved sigh.

That was too close, he thought.

A massive shudder rippled through the building, knocking Zane from his feet and sending him sprawling. He fell hard on his broken wrist and screamed, the sound drowned out by the rumbling infrastructure of the building.

He remained prone on the ground until the quaking ceased. That tremor had been much more violent than the last. He took it as an ill omen.

He stood and dusted himself off, then checked his carbine. The firearm was dented in the middle from where the droid had slammed Zane into the ground.

He muttered a curse and tossed the useless weapon aside. He checked the pistol at his hip, cocked it, then placed it back in its holster. He chinned his HUD back on, but the digital readout was blurred beyond comprehension.

He swore again and tossed his helmet aside, then did a quick inventory of his remaining gear. He was out of stun grenades, out of EMP charges. His radio, helmet, and carbine were all broken. All he had left was his sidearm and his beam tool. They would have to be enough.

A bone-chilling shriek, followed by the sounds of wet, ripping meat, pierced the silence of the corridor. It came from the direction of the lab entrance.

Zane clenched his jaw and peered out into the corridor. It was clear all the way to the lab.

He covered the distance to the lab entrance in just a few long strides.

The door was ajar.

Zane moved to open the door enough to squeeze through when his foot slipped in a pool of something wet and sticky. He looked down to see more blood seeping through the crack, lots of blood. It left a copper scent in the air.

Moving slow and with purpose, he wedged the door open just enough to slip through. He poked his head in to scan the room with his eyes.

Oh my god, he thought and he sucked in a sharp breath.

The clean room, at one time radiant with sterile white and organized with rows of beakers, flasks, and chemical processing equipment, was in shambles. Everywhere Zane looked was broken glass, destroyed equipment, and a layer of gore coated everything.

There was so much blood, so much carnage. Strips of, what he assumed was, human flesh stretched between the lab desks. Chunks of body parts were stuck here and there, to the floor, the ceiling, the walls.

But as he looked deeper into the lab, he notice things get much more weird.

Equipment, chairs, couches, and computers were melded into the concrete of the lab’s floor. One desk had just a corner sticking up, and in another spot, a computer had sank into the stone upside down so that only the bottom portion of the monitor was showing.

He found several more body parts melded in much the same way as the equipment.

What could have done this? he thought with a shiver.

His question was answered a moment later.

There, hovering a foot off of the ground, circled by several floating bodies, was a naked woman covered from head to toe in gore. Her pupils were twin black holes that devoured the swirling, unnatural color of her irises

Grace! he thought. His initial instinct was to run to her side. He took several steps forward to do so, but stopped as he processed what his eyes saw surrounding her.

Invisible waves of an unknown force pulsed off of Grace. It reminded Zane of the shimmering air hovering above asphalt on a blistering summer day.

He had no idea what the force was.

Gravity waves--maybe? he thought, then shook his head once. Not important.

As his gaze drank in the scene, he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

Four bodies, in various states of dismemberment, drifted in large arcs around Grace. Some were complete, while others orbited her in small pockets of disconnected parts. All were dead.

From what Zane could see, there were two scientists, one member of the Metropia R&R security personnel, and one member of the Order of Mykah, but it was hard to be certain with all of the carnage.

Half a dozen, Zane could only call them mounds of flesh, circled Grace.

He spotted a hand sticking from one, a foot from another, but each appendage was buried beneath layers of what looked like tumors. Every time Grace gave off another pulse of the unknown force, the flesh of each mound bubbled and then another layer of tumor flesh burst from the previous in a spray of blood and fluid.

Zane didn’t know what to do. He wanted to get Grace’s attention, but one glance at the tumor mounds made him rethink that idea.

Grace doubled over, an inhuman wail ripping from her chest.

The building shivered in response.

Zane found himself on his hands and knees a moment later, gripping a half-melded desk with all the strength he possessed.

The quaking ceased, and for a moment silence and the internal groaning of the tortured building was all Zane heard.

Then a small voice said, “Zane?”

Zane was in front of her in two strides. He caught her in his arms as her body lowered to the ground. Her eyes faded back to their usual size and color.

She blinked at him in confusion several times as tears traced paths through the gore on her face.

“What--what happened?” she said as she embraced him.

“Oh baby, what have you done to yourself?” he said, wiping away some of the blood on her cheek.

Awareness broke over Grace’s face.

“Zane you have to kill me. Kill me!” she begged, pawing at his arm.

“What? No!” Zane said, taken aback.

“Please, god please you have to!” she said, her voice frantic. “It isn’t what we thought. Oh god it is a nightmare. Please Zane you have to kill me before it gets through!”

“I don’t understand,” he said with alarm. “Before what gets through?”

He held her firm by the shoulders.

“There are no words,” she said with a sob. “It’s coming and it will devour everything. The Order was wrong. God we were so wrong.”

She leaned her head against his chest for a moment, then her head snapped back up. A look of terror gripped her face.

She pushed Zane back with a hand before doubling over in pain.

Another piercing wail tore from her lips and a pulse of the mysterious force blasted outward. The building’s foundations groaned and the tower lurched in response.

Grace lifted from the ground, her eyes inhuman pits again.

Zane went down on one knee. His left arm, the one with the broken wrist, felt--strange. He peered down and then cried out in alarm.

His left arm had been covered in weeping tumors, layer upon layer of them. The weight of his arm pulled him down farther.

He couldn’t control his arm, but the pain burned like fire, causing him to clench his teeth.

He looked back up to see Grace looking at him.

In an alien voice she said, ”The time has come. This world will be mine. Tremble before your god!”

Zane knew what he had to do.

“Baby please, I know you’re in there. Grace you have to fight back. Fight it Grace!” he screamed.

The creature that was once Grace twitched, its gaze moving to some unseen, distant place.

A wave of energy, larger than the last, rippled out from it.

The energy fuzzed Zane’s vision. For a moment, he thought he could see the individual molecules of the air vibrating.

Several of the floating bodies surrounding the creature burst into thin ribbons of flesh in a shower of carnage and the mounds of tumor flesh exploded like ripened pimples.

Zane couldn’t move his legs any longer. He looked down and saw that his body had melded to the floor up to his shins.

He gritted his teeth in determination.

“Grace! Please! Come back to me!” he screamed.

The creature shuddered. The pulsing energy flowing from it tapered off as it lowered several feet in the air.

Grace looked at Zane with a sad smile. Her eyes flashed between the inhuman black and their normal color.

“I love you,” she said.

“And I love you. Forever,” Zane said.

In one smooth motion he drew his side arm and squeezed the trigger.

Grace’s head rocked back.

The building shook and groaned.

Grace exploded with burning light.

Zane closed his eyes as he was consumed.

***

ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!

What in bloody hell, the man thought.

ALERT! ALERT! PLEASE EXIT THE IMMERSION POD.

Immersion pod. What is that? Where am I?

The man felt his consciousness pulled backwards. As it did, memories bombarded him.

Albert. My name is Albert. Albert Milan.

ALERT! ALERT! PLEASE EXIT THE IMMERSION POD.

Moving on its own, Albert’s finger searched for, then found the emergency release for his pod.

His mind swirled in a chaotic frenzy of memories, both his and Commander Lincoln’s. One moment he was himself, the next he felt the tumors growing up the length of his left arm.

He shook his head several times to clear it.

As the pod door opened, Albert noticed that the usual pristine white color of the room had shifted to a flashing red. Sirens wailed in the background, each piercing his mind like a hot knife.

He stumbled from the pod, glancing around. His was the last pod opened, from what he could tell.

He approached one of the others.

Johann rested with his swollen tongue lolling out to the side. A small hole sat between his eyes.

Albert groaned and reached out to close Johann’s dead eyes.

“You buffoon,” he said with sorrow. “You bleeding idiot.” A tear tracked down his cheek.

He moved to the next pod, Allen’s pod.

Grief clenched his chest at the site.

Allen, like Johann, lay in his pod with glazed, lifeless eyes.

ALERT! SECURITY BREACH IN LAB 2. ALERT! SECURITY BREACH IN LAB 2.

Lab 2, he thought, pulling his mind from the firm grip of his grief. That is where the God Blood project is housed!

In two strides, Albert was to the crescent-shaped control desk. He punched in several commands on the terminal, and a series of displays appeared on the wall in front of him. Each streamed footage from the various security cameras placed throughout the building.

He enhanced the display for the Lab 2 footage.

A hand clamped down on Albert’s ankle causing his to jump in alarm.

He looked down and saw a wounded General Merkum floundering in a pool of his own blood.

The General held a firm hand against the side of his neck. He choked and sputtered, trying to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out past all of the blood in his mouth. His eyes flashed between Albert and the last pod, Leeman’s pod.

Albert glanced over and saw that it was empty. Understanding blossomed in his mind.

“Stop--him,” Merkum said between bubbles of blood. Then his body quivered and he fell backwards. He didn’t move again.

Albert looked back to the Lab 2 footage.

Leeman had breached the outer door.

Albert switched to another camera to see the inside of the lab, then froze.

Inside the lab was a complete reproduction of the equipment from the experiment one-hundred years ago. What was worse, Leeman was making his way to a particular machine, one that looked more alien than anything conceived by human minds.

He pulled a beaker from the device. It was half full of a glowing, sparkling liquid.

The God Blood! Albert thought as a shiver of cold fear ping-ponged up his spine. They’ve already recreated it.

He punched a button on the desk initiating an audio connection with Lab 2.

“Mathias stop! Good god man didn’t you see the footage? You know what that will do!” Albert said, his voice cracking.

Leeman straightened then turned to look up at the camera.

“I know,” he said. “Long live the Order of Mykah!”

He turned up the beaker and downed the contents in one gulp.

A violent tremor tore through the lab.

The words of Shakespeare flashed across Albert’s mind just as the roof collapsed in on him.

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!”