Life's Blood.
Prologue
The opportunity was perfect. In the six months he'd, been following Tzu he had never had a better shot. If he pulled this off, the half million would be his, he could return to his apartment and he'd have enough to never need kill again. He checked the sight on his arm. Perfect. The minimal energy required for the shot was already building, it wouldn't take much. He could summon so much more, but not for this. A dense sliver would suffice. The doors to the balcony across the street opened slightly, was it Tzu, there was no way for him to tell, it had to be. It always was. Tzu Liang, the opulent crimelord and head of the Miami Syndicates, for years he had commanded the largest Gang in the Deep South. Founded by his father, the Tzu clan had controlled all of Miami for 10 years with wave upon wave of fear. With his father dead at he hands of a Russian Assassin Liang had taken the reins. That day was 2 years ago, but today was just another day. He had risen as normal, taken tea with his wife, and head towards the balcony as he always did to survey the city that was his. The usual assortment of balcony dwellers were in attendance at the hotel across the street, several children enjoying his city's sun, a young couple embracing one another. A small glare in the corner of his eye drew his attention to a young man on the top floor. Strange he thought, the man was pointing at him, did he know him. It was hard to tell who it was. As he squinted against the suns brightness, a blue halo surrounded the pointing hand, a small pulse of blue ether and a small light arched its towards him. The last thing he saw was a needle of light as it impacted with his forehead and the world exploded into blue and finally darkness. The Crimelord hit the deck. The hit had been made. It wouldn't be long before the body was found. he had to escape. He removed the scope rig from his forearm. Stripping it down, he packed into his case, gave the room a once over for evidence. Finding none he made his way to the elevator. It descended to ground level , After checking out he left the hotel. Turning the corner he heard the first sirens approaching. The body had been found. A clean escape. The cops would find no bullets, no weapon, there were neither. The only evidence was a dead crimelord, apparently shot at close range with what could only be a shotgun blast. They'd suspect his wife, but the case had would be thrown. The Syndicate still had power before the internal struggles for leadership began, but that wasn't his concern. All that remained was to collect payment and his time, as a hitman would be over.
Pulling up outside Vino's he pulled his GT500 to the kerb, locked up and entered the restaurant. The owner Anthony Gorvino sat at his table. His friends, family and close associates called him Tony, his enemies and those who feared him called him The Bulldog. He could see why. Decades of gang warfare had left its toll on the ageing gangster. His face was a network of scars and his nose had clearly been broken more than once. Gorvino rose from his table. "Ah, my faithful Assassin, back from the hunt I see, I see form the news your job was a success, but I guess your not here to drink to our victory, your Money." He signalled to someone across the restaurant. " Half a million Dollars as promised". One of Tony's men put a large metal briefcase on the table. After the customary opening of the money , he took the case and began to rise.
"It's all there."
"I believe you"
"I wish to thank you for this undertaking "
"Not a problem. Nice doing business with you". Stepping Away from the table, he began to make his exit.
"Mr Grant, I was hoping to hire your services once more."
"I'm afraid that's impossible, I'm officially retiring as of now"
"It saddens me greatly to hear that, unfortunately this complicates matters a great deal, as now you work for me, I'm afraid I own you and this news wounds me that I must now have you killed
"What!"
With his command to kill, every lackey in the restaurant drew
his gun and began
firing. He ducked under the nearest table upending it. Creating a
small ball of energy, a
Well-aimed throw took out three gangsters to his right and a large
section of wall with them.
Using the momentary distraction, he checked the positions of the other
gangsters. The
Bulldog behind his upturned table with a group of six lackeys with him
to my left, five more
directly in front of him. Launching a ball of energy at each group. He grabbed the case and ran. Bullets
skimmed past him, he left the restaurant, the bullets stopped as two
huge explosions ripped
through the restaurant. Jumping into his car, he floored it, If any of
the Bulldogs men had
survived that the knowledge he was a mutant would spread like wild
fire. He had to leave
Miami, no Florida, now.
3 Years later
As the song goes "Your in the army now", Well he'd be damned if the writer had ever really tried it, He doubted he'd be singing anything. Two and a half years He'd been here, two and a half too long too long. After Vino's He'd run. Faceless assassination he could walk away from, but killing a respected Mob boss, killing his men and demolishing his restaurant. That you run, or more precisely you break speed laws to get away from. He had run to Canada, for lack of any previous qualifications, All he could do was join the Military.
They didn't know how but his marksmanship excelled the other new recruits. This pushed him up through the ranks. After two years, he'd made sergeant, an impressive feat in itself; He'd also gone from a six foot two inch, 200lb, longhaired hitman to six two, 300lb, shorthaired marine.
He'd been transferred twice, since enrolling, first to a guard post outside Edmonton, then to a military base in the back of beyond at some place called Alkali Lake, US run. He'd heard rumours but a posting was a posting. At the time he didn't know what was happening at Alkali, he doubted he would have taken the post if he did.
Upon arriving at the base he was shocked to discover the main compound was underground, buried under an old energy research station. Resident marines had told him the station had been left in ruins by an escaped solider code named weapon X.
He'd been assigned a squad of ten men to guard a perimeter tower east of the base. the first two months flew past as the daily monotony pushed the weeks swiftly by. And as the saying goes, literally all hell broke loose. Beginning with a solitary trespasser who left as soon as he arrived. Under a week later an all out assault struck the base. He was spared the massacre, which sounded through the intercom. The resulting explosion of the base however rocked the entire lake, including the tower in which he was standing.
The floor had given way and he and his squad members had fallen through the debris. Several well-placed energy balls prevented some of the larger pieces of debris from killing him and his men, he hoped they would be so distracted by the fall, that they wouldn't notice them.
Pain lanced through is right side as he hit a fallen beam on landing. Still groggy from the fall, he surveyed the scene. Two men had been killed by the fall, another by the ceiling falling on him while he was in the mess. The rest were dazed or injured. A lieutenant with a vicious cut across his face approached him.
"Sir, What just happened?"
"Clearly we just got hit by something."
" No Sir, The blue lights, what were they?"
"Electrical discharge, sun glare through the debris it could have been anything." he lied.
"Sun Glare doesn't disintegrate half tonne chunks of concrete, Sir." the squaddie replied uneasily.
"What are you implying Soldier?"
" What I'm Implying, Sir, is that you are a mutant, that somehow you have covered it up and in doing this I must place you under arrest."
"Trust me, you do not want to do that."
"And why not?" He replied using a sarcastic tone that was beginning to irritate Marcus.
"Because. You're absolutely right, I am a Mutant, a particularly dangerous mutant, who has killed more people than you've kissed girls" the fear was rising in the soldier's eyes.
"Do not try my patience" Marcus Continued.
"You don't frighten me, Sir" the tone of sarcasm getting more confident, he was beginning to piss Marcus right off.
"Well, I should" with that Marcus hit him with the small spark of energy he'd creating. It exploded with a sickening crunch against his chest, the standard issue bullet proof vest ridiculously ineffective, he slumped to the floor, the crater in his chest misting in his cold weather. The other unhurt squad members began to advance. Two large energy balls took care of them. He had to escape, something very wrong was happening; he had to get away.
He headed North towards the river opening. Three Watchtowers stood between him and the freedom he was once again trying to find. The first tower was a little way to his right. An accurate shot with a large Energy ball brought the towers remains down on top of the occupants. The other towers met similar fates. The river was in front of him. He'd made it, In that moment all pain he had ever known returned condensed into a single dagger that pierced his mind. He fell to his knees. Burying his head in the snow. Not even the cooling snow could soothe the pain. He could see death, It was a great wall of fire, burning all before it, singling out Marcus as its only target. And as soon as it came it went, leaving its impression in his head. He pulled himself to his knees and began to claw his way to the bridge over the river. Reaching the bridge, he pulled himself up to the rail. He looked south across the lake. The dam was gone, demolished somehow. He felt an immense power at work, building to a crescendo of overwhelming force, he'd never felt anything like it. Where the dam once stood a strange jet he couldn't identify rose, turned on its axis, and sped at what he could only describe as reckless. With its departure the power he felt was extinguished. He knew something had happened at Alkali, He didn't know exactly what but he would find out, as soon as he got out of here, he would find out. The military would pronounce him dead, body lost at, he supposed, lake. Anything caught in the undertow of the flood over the dam would be unidentifiable. They'd never know he'd escaped. He could use this advantage. He had a fresh start. His real journey had begun. nessecarily
Prologue
The opportunity was perfect. In the six months he'd, been following Tzu he had never had a better shot. If he pulled this off, the half million would be his, he could return to his apartment and he'd have enough to never need kill again. He checked the sight on his arm. Perfect. The minimal energy required for the shot was already building, it wouldn't take much. He could summon so much more, but not for this. A dense sliver would suffice. The doors to the balcony across the street opened slightly, was it Tzu, there was no way for him to tell, it had to be. It always was. Tzu Liang, the opulent crimelord and head of the Miami Syndicates, for years he had commanded the largest Gang in the Deep South. Founded by his father, the Tzu clan had controlled all of Miami for 10 years with wave upon wave of fear. With his father dead at he hands of a Russian Assassin Liang had taken the reins. That day was 2 years ago, but today was just another day. He had risen as normal, taken tea with his wife, and head towards the balcony as he always did to survey the city that was his. The usual assortment of balcony dwellers were in attendance at the hotel across the street, several children enjoying his city's sun, a young couple embracing one another. A small glare in the corner of his eye drew his attention to a young man on the top floor. Strange he thought, the man was pointing at him, did he know him. It was hard to tell who it was. As he squinted against the suns brightness, a blue halo surrounded the pointing hand, a small pulse of blue ether and a small light arched its towards him. The last thing he saw was a needle of light as it impacted with his forehead and the world exploded into blue and finally darkness. The Crimelord hit the deck. The hit had been made. It wouldn't be long before the body was found. he had to escape. He removed the scope rig from his forearm. Stripping it down, he packed into his case, gave the room a once over for evidence. Finding none he made his way to the elevator. It descended to ground level , After checking out he left the hotel. Turning the corner he heard the first sirens approaching. The body had been found. A clean escape. The cops would find no bullets, no weapon, there were neither. The only evidence was a dead crimelord, apparently shot at close range with what could only be a shotgun blast. They'd suspect his wife, but the case had would be thrown. The Syndicate still had power before the internal struggles for leadership began, but that wasn't his concern. All that remained was to collect payment and his time, as a hitman would be over.
Pulling up outside Vino's he pulled his GT500 to the kerb, locked up and entered the restaurant. The owner Anthony Gorvino sat at his table. His friends, family and close associates called him Tony, his enemies and those who feared him called him The Bulldog. He could see why. Decades of gang warfare had left its toll on the ageing gangster. His face was a network of scars and his nose had clearly been broken more than once. Gorvino rose from his table. "Ah, my faithful Assassin, back from the hunt I see, I see form the news your job was a success, but I guess your not here to drink to our victory, your Money." He signalled to someone across the restaurant. " Half a million Dollars as promised". One of Tony's men put a large metal briefcase on the table. After the customary opening of the money , he took the case and began to rise.
"It's all there."
"I believe you"
"I wish to thank you for this undertaking "
"Not a problem. Nice doing business with you". Stepping Away from the table, he began to make his exit.
"Mr Grant, I was hoping to hire your services once more."
"I'm afraid that's impossible, I'm officially retiring as of now"
"It saddens me greatly to hear that, unfortunately this complicates matters a great deal, as now you work for me, I'm afraid I own you and this news wounds me that I must now have you killed
"What!"
With his command to kill, every lackey in the restaurant drew
his gun and began
firing. He ducked under the nearest table upending it. Creating a
small ball of energy, a
Well-aimed throw took out three gangsters to his right and a large
section of wall with them.
Using the momentary distraction, he checked the positions of the other
gangsters. The
Bulldog behind his upturned table with a group of six lackeys with him
to my left, five more
directly in front of him. Launching a ball of energy at each group. He grabbed the case and ran. Bullets
skimmed past him, he left the restaurant, the bullets stopped as two
huge explosions ripped
through the restaurant. Jumping into his car, he floored it, If any of
the Bulldogs men had
survived that the knowledge he was a mutant would spread like wild
fire. He had to leave
Miami, no Florida, now.
3 Years later
As the song goes "Your in the army now", Well he'd be damned if the writer had ever really tried it, He doubted he'd be singing anything. Two and a half years He'd been here, two and a half too long too long. After Vino's He'd run. Faceless assassination he could walk away from, but killing a respected Mob boss, killing his men and demolishing his restaurant. That you run, or more precisely you break speed laws to get away from. He had run to Canada, for lack of any previous qualifications, All he could do was join the Military.
They didn't know how but his marksmanship excelled the other new recruits. This pushed him up through the ranks. After two years, he'd made sergeant, an impressive feat in itself; He'd also gone from a six foot two inch, 200lb, longhaired hitman to six two, 300lb, shorthaired marine.
He'd been transferred twice, since enrolling, first to a guard post outside Edmonton, then to a military base in the back of beyond at some place called Alkali Lake, US run. He'd heard rumours but a posting was a posting. At the time he didn't know what was happening at Alkali, he doubted he would have taken the post if he did.
Upon arriving at the base he was shocked to discover the main compound was underground, buried under an old energy research station. Resident marines had told him the station had been left in ruins by an escaped solider code named weapon X.
He'd been assigned a squad of ten men to guard a perimeter tower east of the base. the first two months flew past as the daily monotony pushed the weeks swiftly by. And as the saying goes, literally all hell broke loose. Beginning with a solitary trespasser who left as soon as he arrived. Under a week later an all out assault struck the base. He was spared the massacre, which sounded through the intercom. The resulting explosion of the base however rocked the entire lake, including the tower in which he was standing.
The floor had given way and he and his squad members had fallen through the debris. Several well-placed energy balls prevented some of the larger pieces of debris from killing him and his men, he hoped they would be so distracted by the fall, that they wouldn't notice them.
Pain lanced through is right side as he hit a fallen beam on landing. Still groggy from the fall, he surveyed the scene. Two men had been killed by the fall, another by the ceiling falling on him while he was in the mess. The rest were dazed or injured. A lieutenant with a vicious cut across his face approached him.
"Sir, What just happened?"
"Clearly we just got hit by something."
" No Sir, The blue lights, what were they?"
"Electrical discharge, sun glare through the debris it could have been anything." he lied.
"Sun Glare doesn't disintegrate half tonne chunks of concrete, Sir." the squaddie replied uneasily.
"What are you implying Soldier?"
" What I'm Implying, Sir, is that you are a mutant, that somehow you have covered it up and in doing this I must place you under arrest."
"Trust me, you do not want to do that."
"And why not?" He replied using a sarcastic tone that was beginning to irritate Marcus.
"Because. You're absolutely right, I am a Mutant, a particularly dangerous mutant, who has killed more people than you've kissed girls" the fear was rising in the soldier's eyes.
"Do not try my patience" Marcus Continued.
"You don't frighten me, Sir" the tone of sarcasm getting more confident, he was beginning to piss Marcus right off.
"Well, I should" with that Marcus hit him with the small spark of energy he'd creating. It exploded with a sickening crunch against his chest, the standard issue bullet proof vest ridiculously ineffective, he slumped to the floor, the crater in his chest misting in his cold weather. The other unhurt squad members began to advance. Two large energy balls took care of them. He had to escape, something very wrong was happening; he had to get away.
He headed North towards the river opening. Three Watchtowers stood between him and the freedom he was once again trying to find. The first tower was a little way to his right. An accurate shot with a large Energy ball brought the towers remains down on top of the occupants. The other towers met similar fates. The river was in front of him. He'd made it, In that moment all pain he had ever known returned condensed into a single dagger that pierced his mind. He fell to his knees. Burying his head in the snow. Not even the cooling snow could soothe the pain. He could see death, It was a great wall of fire, burning all before it, singling out Marcus as its only target. And as soon as it came it went, leaving its impression in his head. He pulled himself to his knees and began to claw his way to the bridge over the river. Reaching the bridge, he pulled himself up to the rail. He looked south across the lake. The dam was gone, demolished somehow. He felt an immense power at work, building to a crescendo of overwhelming force, he'd never felt anything like it. Where the dam once stood a strange jet he couldn't identify rose, turned on its axis, and sped at what he could only describe as reckless. With its departure the power he felt was extinguished. He knew something had happened at Alkali, He didn't know exactly what but he would find out, as soon as he got out of here, he would find out. The military would pronounce him dead, body lost at, he supposed, lake. Anything caught in the undertow of the flood over the dam would be unidentifiable. They'd never know he'd escaped. He could use this advantage. He had a fresh start. His real journey had begun. nessecarily