Prologue: Genesis of the Beginning
Forêt Des Quatre Piliers, France: February 10 10:19|
The metal sphere dimmed, the light receding from the room and once again leaving it mostly in shadows. Only a few indistinct shapes could be seen around the sphere, standing so still they might as well have been shadows.
“Set it on high again. We need to see how long he can last.”
The sphere, about a meter in diameter, flared again, the brilliant surface a blinding white. The man, Richelieu, was chained to a large circle, his arms and legs spread out so he looked like an X, arched his back and screamed.
“Is that the highest?”
There was a nod.
“Good.”
Richelieu screamed again, his eyes rolling into his head, foam frothing at his mouth. A monitor began to flash and a loud beeping sound filled the room. He started to shake, tremors tearing through his fragile body. Tears mixed with red slid down his face.
“Stop it.”
The light abruptly vanished, but Richelieu still trembled violently.
“He’s ready. Give him the shot.”
An assistant trotted over to the chained Richelieu.
“Get me the syringe.” The assistant syringe held the syringe up, so Richelieu could see it, before resting it on a choice spot on his neck and slowly depressing the plunger. The contents of the syringe were injected into his bloodstream and the clear liquid drained out. With a quivering sigh, Richelieu’s eyes shut, but the tension stayed in his body, his muscles hard and stiff.
“Excellent. Let’s make our report now, before it’s time.”

Richelieu, head hanging against his chest, sobbed. He was done for and he knew it. He would never survive another day. But he had a mission. A mission that he would complete. If he didn’t…
He shuddered at the thought. The consequences of failure were too great to even think about. Struggling, he raised his head. The lights had come on, illuminating his surroundings. In front of him the round orb stared as it always did. Though it was plain and undecorated, a malevolent feel emanated from it.
He twisted his head so he could see his bonds. They were made of some type of material that he didn’t recognize; they weren’t chains but a solid, ridged cable, attached to a ring that hugged his wrists and ankles. There were two more, also attached to a large band around his middle, made of the same material.
Around the room there wasn’t much to see. Except the orb. It dominated the room, intruding on everything, invading his waking thoughts and sleeping dreams. Richelieu looked over it again, unable to stop himself. It was connected to some sort of contraption, wires sprouting out of it, a makeshift control panel stuck onto the top. He also knew that there was some sort of glass observation box behind the orb where the scientists waited. The only entrance into the room was the windowless carbon-steel door on his right, but it was always locked. Two guards stood outside of it 24/7.
Richelieu was about to slip back into sleep when the door opened, and the familiar click of a cane on the cement floor echoed across the room. Richelieu looked up, too exhausted to say anything.
“I’m here to help you.” The voice was strange, like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “I’ve decided this is all a mistake. I’m sorry.” He took out a remote and pressed a button. Richelieu’s bonds retracted, dropping him to the ground.
The man who had just entered proffered a hand but the other man ignored it, picking himself up with obvious effort.
He stood up, rubbing his wrists where the manacles had bitten into them. His arms were sore from hanging for so long. The two faced each other, the newcomer almost a head taller than Richelieu. Without warning, Richelieu swung a fist into the newcomers soft belly, driving him to his knees, then kicked him once, twice, a third time, before yanking him up by the collar and searching his jacket. Inside one of the pockets, he found a Luger P08 semi-automatic. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pushed the barrel against the newcomer’s head and pulled the trigger. A loud crack reverberated inside the confines of the room, and the newcomer was thrown back, his head hitting the concrete with a wet smack.
The two guards ran into the room, alerted by the gunshot, but with two more shots, also to the head, they fell. With a grim smile Richelieu walked over to the bodies. Sticking the P08 into his belt he grabbed the guns, Beretta Neoses, and several extra magazines. He had to find a computer. If he didn’t then all was lost. He had been granted a reprieve and now he had to make the most of it.
Kicking the door open he quickly checked the corridor. For some reason though, the placard on the door caught his eye. TEST LAB C-33/a. He blinked and looked back out at the corridor. Clear. He ran down the hall and stopped at the first door, flattening himself against it. He could hear the sound of the Nexus soldiers, Blackwood’s private army, running to the testing room. But these wouldn’t be any ordinary Nexus soldiers. They would be Nex Vexillum, an elite unit of the Nexus. Nex Vexillum were heavily armed, and ruthlessly dangerous. He wouldn’t stand a chance.
Throwing the door open he raised both of the guns, firing simultaneously into the corridor at the oncoming guards and into the room. With his foot he kicked the door closed so he was on the inside and dropped one of the guns.
Richelieu grabbed another magazine from his pocket, reloading as he threw himself behind a chair. Finished reloading, he pulled out the P08 and jumped over the chair, flipping a metal table up so it stood on its side. He fired from around the sides until the return fire stopped.
Gasping for breath, he dropped the empty P08 and retrieved the other gun from where he had dropped it, and surveyed the room. Half a dozen white-coated scientists lay around the room. All were dead, killed in the heated battle. The remains of a cabinet hung on the wall, torn apart by the firestorm, glass mugs falling out. A sink head had exploded and water sprayed around the room wildly.
But there was no computer.
Unless…
He hurried around to the other side of the table, looking through the pile of objects that had fallen off the table when he had flipped it. He sifted through, coffee, the remains of a mug, pencils, sodden paper, and there!
A tablet computer, silent black screen, cool aluminum backing.
But it was wet, coffee pooling around the edges of the frame. Please work, please work he prayed. He tapped the home button, and the screen came to life. With a shout of glee he opened the internet, logging onto his email account. As he did somebody began to pound on the door. Reinforcements. Setting the computer down, he began to search the cabinets until he found a gun, a Beretta carbine. Aiming it at the door he pulled the trigger. The gun leapt and bucked, bullets slamming into the door. Returning to the computer he quickly typed out a message, choosing a recipient from his address book. One more thing had to be done before it could be sent.
He was startled out of his concentration as the door shook, smoke billowing through the crumpled edges. Returning his gaze to the computer he selected an email from his inbox, clicking on a link. That link would activate a program that would send the email, then, when that was completed, wipe the computer clean, destroying everything on it. The program would temporarily mask the email, allowing it to slide underneath the radar. A proxy site would intercept the email and shuttle it around until sending it to the final recipient, once the program was confident all traces had been purged. Even later when the computer was searched, no trace of the email would be found; who sent it, who it was sent to, or what it contained would never be discovered.
The door buckled inwards before crashing to the floor. A spray of bullets burst in, catching Richelieu in the chest and throwing him backwards. There was the familiar click of the walking cane. The same man he had just killed minutes before stood over him, a Luger P08 pistol pointed right at his head. Behind the man with the gun he could see dark shapes with tubes strapped onto their backs and hoses in their hands.
He looked up at the P08. “How?” he croaked.
Then there was a crack and blood exploded in front of his eyes. Richelieu slumped to the ground, dead.
Mediterranean Sea, France: February 10 11:33|
The woman looked at the email that had just arrived. A great shaking sigh ran through her body. When would it end? Another dead. So many had died in the past few months.
But she couldn’t let her private feelings stop her. She forwarded the email to fifty-two more people, who would in turn forward it to whomever they thought could utilize its information best. When she had finished, she closed the computer and clasped her hands.
So, it was as they feared. His plan had started in earnest. They would need to stop him as soon as possible. Picking up the slim phone that lay beside the computer she dialed a number.
“Kent? I want you to continue your current operation.”
There was a pause and she continued.
“I know, I know. But I have new, frightening, information. They’ll probably need protection. I don’t know if he’ll do anything but I want to be sure. Thank you.”
Setting the phone back down she bowed her head. A tear trickled down her face.
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