Mitochondrial Showdown
Written by Asuka's Knight
Disclaimer: All the characters in this fic, bar the ones I obviously made up are the property of Squaresoft (or as they're known now, SquareEnix). So, don't sue me because you can't get blood from a stone…and even less from me.
-
"Tell me where she is, or the next bullet from this gun hits you square between the eyes, understand?"
Oh yeah, I could see she meant it. This lady had fire in her eyes and, to make matters worse, she was as pissed off as they come. Perfectly understandable, considering I had kidnapped what she passed off as her younger sister. Now, flat on my butt in this alley, with garbage piled around me and casual obscenities scrawled on the walls, I was ruing taking on this job, more than ever before.
"I told you already: I don't have her."
"You had her five minutes ago, I saw you."
"That was five minutes ago. Look, go ahead and kill me if you have to, if it's going to make you feel any better."
Her eyes, which were already narrowed to mere slits, seemed to grow even smaller. Her finger twitched on the trigger, and I knew that she was going to blow me away. And, in my case, she may even enjoy it. The rain was flooding into the bullet hole in my shoulder, burning its way inside in red-hot streams.
"Enjoy hell, you sick son of a bitch."
Time slowed. The muzzle of the M93R flashed, expelling a single slug of hot lead in my direction. From the first bullet that had hit me, I knew it was loaded with 9mm Spartan rounds, some of the meanest ammo you can get for handguns. They ruptured internal tissue and organs, because of their fast fragmentation. At this distance, my head was going to look like a pumpkin dropped off the Empire State building.
They say that right before your death, your life flashes before your eyes. Let me tell you that that is the truest thing in the world. Here's mostly what I saw...
-
Now, before I get any further into my flashback, I might as well go through the trouble of introducing myself. I'm not going to give you my real name, obviously, seeing as how I'm a bounty hunter. Most people know me as Dante, and that's the way I like it. You may have passed me on the street and not have known it.
I'm eighteen now, and though I've only been at this for about eight months, I'm pretty good at it. In fact, saying I'm one of the best wouldn't be stretching the truth too far. Now, you may be wondering, what a kid like me is doing hunting people down when he should be at university, studying law or something, am I right? Here's your answer: Why the hell would you want to do something as boring as that?
Sure, I've been shot a few times, and had one or two close calls, but if you're an adrenaline junkie like me, there's nothing in the world that will make you feel more alive. Anywho, that's pretty much the long and short of my career, let me tell you a bit about how I ended up in this mess.
-
I got the call from one of my regular clients a few weeks back. He wanted to meet me to discuss a business proposition, and I agreed. I might as well tell you the guy's name, it's pretty much a dead certainty that you've never heard of him. His name is George Tevani and he's so full of money that he makes his good friend William Gates look like the owner of a flea market stall.
Now, let me share a piece of wisdom with you. The richest men in the world are the ones who no one knows about. Tevani probably makes more in a week than you would probably make in your entire life, or even two lifetimes. And a good portion of that is paid towards making sure no one knows who he is.
So, I agreed to meet and got dressed in my best tux, before heading for the Duke's Seat, one of the finest country clubs in the world. I parked outside and let the valet take my car around.
I paused in front of the head waiter. "My name is Dante. I believe mister Tevani is expecting me."
"Ahh, yes. Come through sir, he is waiting in the lounge."
I followed him into one of the private lounges. Usually, you could only book them for large parties, but Tevani had bought out the entire lounge for the night. He was sitting by one of the fireplaces and stood up to greet me.
"Dante, so very good to see you again." He was perhaps in his early fifties, with steel grey hair and eyes that such a light shade of blue that they were nearly translucent. His well-cut suit masked muscles that could rip someone limb from limb.
"As always George, the pleasure is mine. What is it you have for me this time?"
He smiled, in a fatherly sort of way. Whenever he did that, I got the creeps. Apart from creeping me out, that smile also served the purpose of letting me know the next assignment was going to be a doozy.
"Why don't we discuss this business after dinner? I shall have Marco bring in the starters." He clapped his hands and two waiters appeared with a pair of covered trays. I won't bore you with the details of the dinner, because we mostly chatted about inane things like the stock market, global warming, you know. Finally, he lit up a cigar and I knew I had come to the serious part of the evening.
"Dante, the task I have for you is a rather delicate one. It involves the retrieval of an experiment. A man of your profession will no doubt have heard rumours surrounding the infamous 'Shelter Incident' of 2000."
Oh yeah, I had heard more than just rumours about that particular episode. The US government had insisted that a terrorist group had made their lair in an old shelter in the middle of the Nevada desert. Before the company of marines that had been dispatched to take them out could act, they conveniently blew themselves up with several tonnes of explosives they were hoping to utilise in an attack on the country.
Of course, not a word was said about the several miles around the shelter, which included the small town of Dryfield, which was seemingly vaporised. When I broke into this business, I finally established a picture of what had happened, thanks to several reports from fellow mercs and a lot of hacking on my part.
It seems an organisation was conducting experiments into Neo-Mitochondria, the organisms responsible for the Manhattan Blockade. They built a huge creature capable of producing enough Neo-Mitochondria to turn the entire planet in NMCs. The government tried to blow it to pieces using an orbital laser that were left over from the SDI project. But, it was only through the actions of MIST agent Aya Brea that the world was saved. Ironically (Or ominously, if that's your gig), she was the same NYPD cop who had resolved the Manhattan Blockade.
"George, as far as I know, there's nothing left to retrieve."
George just shook his head, as if in wonder at my question. "The experiment in question is still around, there's no doubt about it. But before I go any further, I wish to know if you want this assignment."
I wanted it. The Shelter happening had always intrigued me, and the chance to actually see one of the experiments was too good to let pass.
"Well then," I said as he lit up a second cigar. "Let's get down to it. What do you want me to get?"
The smile on Trevani's face widened. "It's not really a 'What'. That folder in front of you should explain it better than I could. I must go now, Dante, as I have other business. Do feel free to order anything else you may require at my expense. Good-day. And, I don't need to remind you about the need for silence, now that you are in my employ again."
He stood and left, and I took the folder, puzzled by his comment. As I casually opened the folder, my eyes fell on a photo of the "Experiment" I was supposed to retrieve.
"Oh shit, what did you get yourself into?" I mumbled to myself.
-
An hour later, I was back in my apartment. I had been numb throughout the entire drive back, but it was only when I had sat down and thought about it when I fully realised what I had to do.
The folder contained the details of a girl called Eve Brea. She was supposedly the younger sister of Aya Brea, the MIST agent I mentioned earlier. But, as it turned out, she was the key to the entire Shelter incident.
Eve was cloned from genetic material taken from Aya, which is why she resembles her so strongly. She was supposed to be the "Pilot" for something that was meant to turn the entire world into these NMCs. However, she rebelled against them, and sealed herself away with an immense energy field. Aya managed to find her way inside, and there she found the girl, who could have been her twin.
After the resolution of the whole mess, Aya had some strings pulled in the FBI to have Eve listed as her sister. Since then, she had been happily attending school in New York.
I turned back to the first page and looked at the photo again. Eve would no doubt be a beautiful woman one day, but at this stage, she still fell into my "Cute" category. She had long blonde hair, which was neatly plaited in the photograph. Her eyes were large, and a deeper blue than mine. She was smiling a slightly shy smile that could have turned Attila the Hun into a pacifist.
Now, you're probably wondering why, if I have such strong feelings about this task, why I don't just quit, right? Well, I can't do that, for three reasons.
One: If I bail out on one job, it will get around to other prospective clients and bang, there goes any credibility and future business.
Two: I know too much now, and Tevani will simply have me rubbed out if I refuse
Three: This is the main reason. The folder stated that Eve wasn't necessarily needed alive, or in a healthy state. There's a pretty large group of people in my profession who aren't the nicest guys in the world. If I didn't do it, one of them would possibly get the job, and Eve would end up dead. And most of these scumbags I'm talking about wouldn't just kill her. They would do things to her that I can't mention, and I couldn't let that happen.
So, with my very weak, but justifiable causes, I set about planning the snatch…