Kingdom Come Page 2

“What do you mean ‘you can’t’?” Josh asked.

  “There’s someone else in the system. They booted me out!”

  “Take it back by any means!” Viktor shrieked once again, his voice booming through the arena.

  “All attempts at escape will fail, and all attempts at recovering your systems are futile!” The person holding me up growled out into the stadium.

  I choked on my blood as it dripped down my nose and onto the man’s hand. I shakily brought my hand up and tugged his wrist, smearing even more blood around as my face went numb.

  The backup generator cut off. The guy must have done it from a remote device. He turned his head to face me.

  The last thing I heard was the familiar sound of Matt and Josh bickering.

  “Josh, I’m back in. I’m writing a new firewall but files are missing…”

  “The boss is going to kill us, Matt.”

  Shortly after that, I passed out.

  Two

  “Mystery, mystery, what can I say? Why … why!? Stupid, stupid, stupid … stupid bird…”

  I rolled my head as my nose throbbed, and groaned as dried blood around my lip cracked, pulling at my skin. I sat resting my back on a hard surface, struggling to open my eyes. It was a feeling I knew all too well, and I knew what the medic, Louis “Ichabod” Crane, would say. I could just picture him standing over me, looking down at me with disdain over that beak nose of his, scratching the hideous scar on his neck. The man disliked me — thought I was too reckless. He wasn’t wrong.

  “No, no … I want to fight. I don’t need to go to medical,” I murmured.

  “Good!” a voice answered. It wasn’t Louis.

  I leaned forward quickly and desperately tried to clear my head as fast as I could. I held my hand up in defence as I opened my eyes. The room was dark and full of shadows that seemed to move. There was a single overhead light, but that didn’t really make it any easier to see the rest of the room.

  “K9’s not going anywhere anyway.”

  I flinched. Though smoother this time, the voice still sounded ghostly. Hollow and forgotten by time. I peered through the darkness, past a steel table, hoping to see who was talking. Leaning in until something tugged against my left wrist. Lucky me, a handcuff. The other end was secured to a tall steel pipe.

  I scowled and placed my hand on my head as it started to pound, realizing that I might be in serious trouble… But I guess it was nothing compared to what I’d dealt with before.

  “Caw, caw says the crow. Down, down you will fall…” He went back to muttering. “Deep, deep in the darkness, out of hell you will crawl.”

  I stood slowly, clearing my vision and tasting blood. I couldn’t see the man’s face, but I could see the outline of his body: broad shoulders, about six feet tall, and the longest, messiest hair I’d ever seen. From what I could tell, it was a tangled black nest.

  “Who are you?” I asked quickly.

  He lifted his head but didn’t turn to face me. “The crow, the plague, and the end for you.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “N-no more questions!”

  I stumbled slightly. This was not someone I could negotiate with, and this was not a situation I could fight my way out of. Not right now anyway. I put my head down and tried to regroup. There was some way. There had to be. I could still play him. Everyone has a weakness. It’s usually the first thing they show you.

  The man slowly walked around the table and put his hands up. “D-didn’t mean it…”

  I looked back up, and he was miserably fidgeting with his sleeve. “Crow, bird, death, monster, freak,” he said, then continued with his poem.

  “Nameless and faceless

  A monster at the core

  Useless and careless

  Here forevermore.”

  “I know that poem,” I muttered to myself. He turned his back to me and started to speak again, ignoring me.

  “Every night I burn

  My feathers turned to ash

  Like that of a baby crow

  Rooting through the trash.”

  “A Ravin is a raven, but a crow is more … more, more, more…!” He shifted papers around and reorganized them before he shouted in what sounded like pain or fear and threw everything off the side of his desk. He slammed his hands down and grunted out another verse.

  “I do my best to please them

  And keep the voices down

  But sometimes when I hear him

  I feel I start to drown!”

  This wasn’t right. He was clearly angry and in some form of emotional torment, but hearing the boom of his voice, I couldn’t help but take a step back, accidentally slamming my shoulders into the steel. As the handcuffs rattled against a pipe, I realized I’d made a mistake.

  I cringed as the man turned around, shouting once again. “Never should have done it! Thing of evil!”

  He started reciting again.

  “He took my beauty

  And burned my beautiful wings

  And now I’m left to hear him

  As others start to sing.”

  He clenched his fists and shook his head.

  “I am still a being of light

  Suffering in darkness

  One thousand degrees of anger

  Leave me sitting in distress.”

  He threw his back against the wall as he cried out. He cradled his head in his hands and took in a ragged breath, calming himself down as he slid to the floor. I tugged at my restraint silently — listening to it grind against the pipe — until he looked at me again and slowly parted his lips as he spoke. “Why the crow? Why…?”

  “I-I don’t—”

  “Don’t know? How could you … just a K9…? No monster here, only the bird.

  “Your eyes are half-asleep,

  and your heart is soft to the core.

  All the things they say,

  made my mind and body sore.

  But you smiled and shook,

  and now I miss you more.”

  His voice was instantly deeper, angrier — almost sinister — as he sneered at me.

  I decided to risk a question, maybe indulge this psychosis if I had to. “Do you like poetry?”

  He tilted his head and took a step closer. He was almost out of the shadows. I could see that he had ink splattered across his shirt and skin. His hair was even darker than I initially thought, too; it had a tint of blue to it. I took that moment to say my own poem.

  “They told her to be violent

  And now they fall silent

  For fear of insanity…”

  His head tilted downward and a menacing grin took over what I could see of his features.

  “She asks questions in her mind

  But nothing she will find

  For fear of final clarity.”

  He stared for a moment, pleased. He tried to hide his face by biting his lip and haphazardly rubbing his head, causing his hair to stick out farther than it already did. Now that he seemed to have calmed down, I did too.

  “Please tell me why I’m here,” I asked softly.

  His face fell, and he walked back to the other side of the room, covering his entire body in shadows again. “Don’t know that one.”

  I sighed. “Please … at least tell me I’m not in danger.”

  “Can’t do that! No more questions, please! Leave my loneliness unbroken!” He hollered at me in anguish. His body jolted suddenly, and I dodged to the left as a speaker hit the wall beside me. I hesitantly turned to where it hit the wall. There had been enough force behind the throw that it dented the metal of the wall slightly. I straightened up again, and the man turned around, completely refusing to meet my eyes or even look at me.

  “W-wants to know, wants to know … dirty little secrets!”

  He slammed his hands down on the desk, and the room lit up with the light of about ten computer monitors mounted to the wall. The man cackled as the light cast his shadow across the room, making him look bigger than he pr
obably was. Some screens were running code; others had security videos playing. The most disturbing were the pictures of the other warriors, the ones who had recently been injured or quit, with large black Xs stamped across their faces. Chrissy was one of them. The colour in her face drained when she told me what happened, but in the picture, her cheeks were just as rosy as they always had been. I know I needed answers, but my anger just kept burning. I wasn’t sure how long I could hold myself back if this is what I would have to keep looking at.

  But then he pulled my picture up and typed Eliminated.

  I struggled to free myself, but as I looked up, I saw that the man was staring at me, so I asked what should have been my first thought when I woke up. “Did you do this to everyone?”

  He looked down. “A crow, a murderer.”

  He looked away, and my attention was caught by something else. There was a picture taped to the wall beside him with the eyes scratched out. It looked like it had taken many darts and knives over a short period of time. This picture was of a friend. A close, rude, and potentially dangerous friend … Dan.

  “K9, K9, K9.”

  He repeated my name over and over again. His breathing was shaky, and he looked like he was having a hard time keeping his composure. He pressed his hands to his face with a sigh. “Broke my heart, and they broke my body.”

  “Who did? Maybe I can help?”

  “The bird was supposed to get rid of you! B-but can’t… Crow’s going to be in trouble…” I watched him carefully. “So much trouble, so much pain.”

  He started choking on his sobs and then slid into his seat and bit his knuckles.

  “Who are you going to be in trouble with?”

  “People.”

  “What people?”

  “People who can hurt the bird!” He snapped, only momentarily pulling his hand away and — I’d imagine — shooting a glare at me.

  I tilted my head and grimaced. “I can help you —”

  “Never again! No more pain, no more lies … no more help.”

  “Tell me who you are.” I didn’t like begging for answers. I didn’t like the feeling it gave me. He stood and walked out of the shadows, showing me his face for the first time. He had sad, green eyes and a jagged scar that ran down his chin and turned into a cross on his neck. Ink stained his cheek, and he looked at the ground, those green eyes shifting only slightly. They didn’t sparkle, they didn’t shine — in fact, they just looked dead. Their colour was vibrant and startling, but they also looked weary and a little bit emotionless, with no hope or happiness inside them at all.

  I had never seen him before.

  “The madness keeps me safe.”

  He walked forward, and I raised my hand in defence, maybe to stop him from getting too close or maybe to show him I wasn’t an enemy. He carefully let his fingertips touch mine. I inadvertently flinched. Startled, he pulled his hand away and drew it to his chest, looking cautious, eyes wide and shoulders hunched.

  “It’s okay…” I said.

  He did it again, and I tried not to pull away this time.

  His hand shaking slightly, he slipped his fingers between mine and watched our movements as I let the tips of my fingers touch his knuckles.

  My hand was shaking; this had to be the single weirdest way of escaping certain death. He watched as he lightly held my hand in place, downturned green eyes following every movement. He let himself smile sadly as he closed his eyes. After a moment, I slowly pulled my hand away, and his smile faded as he dropped his head. He grimaced and stepped back. His lip quivered as he opened his eyes again and tilted his head at me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked softly.

  Blinking, he shook his head, “Don’t want to hurt anymore… Stabbed the bird in the back … revenge…”

  His eyes glazed over, and he listlessly let his head roll to one side. My voice caught slightly as I attempted to lean over so he could see me properly. “Please take the handcuffs off?”

  Snapping back, he started to rub his neck and pace back and forth. “O-okay…”

  He looked nervous, so I offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He stared at me, then let my hand free and took a moment before stepping back. I rubbed my wrist and looked up at him. He was watching every movement I made, and his pupils were dilated, eliminating most of the green. Stuttering, he took a step back.

  “Did you … do all that?” I asked.

  He glanced at the monitors. “Crows are very resourceful.”

  “Impressive.”

  I looked over the monitors until I found a live feed of the training room. Dan was punching his punching bag and yelling at Josh and Matt. I turned around to look at the man, and he stammered like he had been staring. He raised his hand and opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it again, his shoulders hunched the entire time.

  “You took them out, didn’t you?” I asked. He fidgeted and then finally nodded.

  “Didn’t want to.” His voice was much different, quieter. “He would hurt the crow if the crow said no, and … and — and then he said he wanted K9 and the crow couldn’t, he just couldn’t — too tragic, too … too —”

  “Wait, you mean me? I’m the ‘K9’ you’re talking about?”

  He tilted his head, pupils filling out again. “Y-you…?”

  “K9 is just a stage name, so to speak. My real name is Benji Keanin.”

  “No! Yes…? K9, the target … couldn’t… She’s just a little dog … pretty little dog,” he said in broken English as he lifted a slim, shaking finger to point at me. This man was clearly struggling to speak, maybe even to think clearly. There was something about him, though.

  “Why wouldn’t you just take me out like everyone else?”

  He looked at the ground again. “Too tragic.”

  “What’s tragic?”

  I watched him bite his lip at the question. He wrung his hands, not giving me an answer. Though he was standing closer with a curious look.

  His head was tilted, and he looked from my eyes to my lips. If this were anyone else, my combat training would have kicked in, but even though it was clear this man could hurt me badly, he didn’t feel like a threat. Not like most other people. The air he carried was too familiar.

  “Who’s next?”

  He jumped back, startled.

  I asked again, “Who are we taking out next?”

  “H-help the bird?”

  I nodded. “You shouldn’t be alone, especially if you’re going to be in trouble.”

  He glanced at the monitors, then back at me. A wicked grin took his face, and he pointed at the picture of Dan up on the wall. Slowly, he let his expression drop, though, and he shook his head, “Not again … always get hurt; can’t do it again. Dog is going to get hurt…” He ran his hands up over his eyes, then into his hair.

  “I can at least look out for you even if you don’t want me in the arena,” I offered. It wasn’t much, and I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, but I had to do something. I needed to know why … maybe I could stop it.

  Three

  He didn’t speak much, and I didn’t want to bother him, so I stayed quiet. At some point during the evening, I had gathered the courage to ask him a mildly important question. “Y-you never told me your name…”

  “Crow.”

  “Just Crow?”

  “Just Crow.”

  Late in the night, Crow left to “research” Dan. I kept an eye on the monitors to make sure he didn’t get caught. He made his way back through the halls and tunnels of the building, careful to stay out of sight. I figured that, while given the chance, I should try to research him myself. Honestly, I had no idea where to start; I didn’t even have a proper name. I started going through files on the hard drive, until I got into his email — which was luckily not password-protected — and opened one from an anonymous sender.

  Get the job done or you’re finished. Your next hit is

 
; Benjamina Keanin AKA Benji “K9” Keanin.

  She is the biggest threat to us. Take her out, kill her if you

  have to, just make sure she won’t get in the way.

  Your payment will come through once it’s done.

  Don’t let us down.

  I read it over and over. I could be a threat to whom? To what? I searched through other messages from this person and came across one that was likely the first sent.

  Soul,

  Your new alias will be Crow, in reference to your surname of course.

  We expect you to do a thorough and clean job. Never let

  anyone see or notice you unless necessary or otherwise stated.

  If you fail to do your job we will eliminate you.

  Good luck and good hunting,

  Doctor Frankenstein

  Okay, so his name is Soul, a.k.a. Crow.

  The clunk of boots on tile startled me from my search. I started to panic as the door opened, rattling as it did, and I struggled to clear the email from the monitor. I was a bit too late, and the door slammed shut. I tried to stand up quickly to cover what I was doing, but my chair toppled back, leaving me crashing to the floor and cracking my wrist. I hollered in pain and felt a large hand grip my belt. He hauled me to my feet and gripped my shoulder.

  I opened my hazel eyes to see green staring back — very angrily, might I add.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”

  He readjusted his grip and exhaled shakily.

  “The bird’s nest is his own,” he growled.

  I held my breath and nodded, but curiosity got the better of me.

  “Who … who is Doctor Frankenstein?”

  Crow sneered and shook his head.

  “You created me

  As long as you live, you’ll never be free

  But I’m a busy man

  So dead you’ll have to be.”

  I still had no idea what he meant, but I doubted it was a good idea to ask.

  “Your name is Soul?” I asked. He whipped around and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “D-don’t…! Crow — don’t…” He looked as if he were trying to work something out in his head. I decided to take a chance.