Enchaîné - Chapitre 7

Be the proof of my existence…

"You bitch!" Shella cursed, cat eyes fixed on Fideline. "You set us up!'

"Perhaps, either way, Death is awaiting me," replied Fideline. "Will you spare me once you gained the knowledge of Naissance?"

"Alright, shut the hell up, you two!" interrupted Manx, "Aya, you and Shella deal with the guards while I contact Persia. Omi, you and André take Fideline to our place. Don't argue with me, Shella. I don't have time…"

Just then, hard round objects burst through the glass windows. As soon as they ground, foul-smelling gases swept across the floors like a flood, engulfing the group. Shella roughly grabbed Manx and Aya, speed down the hallway and up the to attic, kicked down the door and threw the two onto a couch. Pulling the curtains over the windows, she took Manx by the collar. Half-dragging half carrying, she nearly tossed her to a corner. Taking out a laptop, she plugged it into one of the electric terminals. Tapping onto the keyboards, Shella heard the ratting sounds of the guns hailing upon the hysterical nuns and other believers of the Faith. She turned to Manx, who was still coughing over the effects of the gases.

"When you are ready, hopefully when red haired boy and I are facing the bullets, you better be finished with whatever you are intending to do!"

In the midst of the gas clouds, André managed to carry Omi and Fideline towards the kitchen as he fought his way against the panicked crowds. Catching his breath, he surveyed the area for possible intruding. There was none. Outsides, he heard the dying screams of both men and women, followed by another hail of bullets. Then, bright glaring lights torrent the entire cathedral. The silence was suffocating.

"Omi," André shook the semi-unconscious boy. "Omi, wake up!"

"André," whispered Fideline, taking in gulps of air. "There is something I haven't told you."

"That can wait…"

"No, it can't and it shouldn't." Gripping hard on André's wrist. "I haven't told you about Frère. Just as I have thought, he's using you and Shella for his own deeds. Before 1989 shutdown, Gloven was already experimenting on him to be the absolutely perfect being. At that time, I wasn't around because I was recovering at Sophie's place. From what the assistants told me, something went wrong during one of the experiments but Frère survived. I fear very much for what he has become. Here," Holding out a tube filled with cobalt-blue liquid. "Take this. It may relieve you from the symptoms of the rejection process. For how long I don't know how."

"I may not need it," André looked skeptically at it. "Like you said, I'm going to die."

"That may be the case, my child." Fideline patted his hand. "For you are different from the rest, to me, you are special." She laughed softly. "Maybe because you look like your mother or father in some ways. I wasn't being truthful back then, may the Bon Dieu forgive me, while I was staying here, I was creating an, if you may, antidote. Sophie always said me that our sins will come back for us, and so, I was preparing myself for it. This is what Sakimoto would want and so do I." She pulled out the cork and held the tube to André's lips. "We want you to live the life that you want. The life that you should have, André. You are human, born in the image of the Bon Dieu, with His breath of life in you."

André remained quiet and drank the liquid. He felt a hot glowing sensation, like a renew energy charging in him. In a dreamlike state, he thought he heard Fideline saying.

"Sakimoto, I love you so much."

"Fideline…"

Then, he felt her body pressing against his. It was heavy and cold and there was something warm, its smell so fresh and distinctive. He looked down and saw red reflecting itself in the sheets of the glaring lights and the darkness. Numbly, he looked up and someone tall, in black, wearing a tribal-like mask with a silencer placed in his gloved hand.

In a raspy voice, the killer greeted.

"Salut, neuf-trois-sept-neuf."

Half-moaning, Aya felt like his lungs were filled with anything except oxygen. Putting his weight upon the edge of the couch, he clambered himself to his feet. Shaking his head, he saw a faintly blurred vision of Shella, staring immensely at him, holding a rifle in her hands. With one high-heeled boot forward, she tossed it to Aya.

"About time you wake up, red hair," Shella muttered. "Think you can handle this?"

"Yes, why?" Aya replied hotly.

"Listen, while your girl do her stuff, I'll deal with the guards, you watch my back. Fine?"

"Sure," Aya observed his newfound weapon. "You'll deal with the guards like you did back at Sophie's mansion."

"Oh?" Shella looked amused. "And how would you know?"

"No human is capable of ripping bodies apart without the use of explosives or something."

"My, you are indeed more than that cold attitude of yours," Shella moved closer. "And this is what I like." Swiftly, she seized Aya and held him into an immersed kiss. Aya could feel her sugary tongue shoving deep into his mouth, erupting insane warmth to flush up into his skin. The runnings of his hair by her fingers and the slow rubbings on his back made him feel dizzy and weak.

Abruptly, Shella broke the enchantment and pushed Aya aside. He stared at her in bewilderment, not knowing whether to be angry or remain calm. Licking her lips, she brushed up the straying strands of her black hair. Moving slightly, she gently caressed Aya's face.

"Don't get me, wrong, Aya." Sorrow painted her eyes. "I just need someone to remember me." Giving a pretentious laugh. "What better way to do it than to kiss a man." Unlocking the handle on the windowsill. "Remember to watch my guard, ok?"

Aya nodded. "Be careful."

"You too."

As soon the window swung opened, burning lights penetrated into the room, followed by shouts and sounds of loading guns. A cold wind swept and flipped Shella's black raven hair. Lifting her arms up, parallel to the ground, she drew to her full height. With one jump, she propelled herself down onto the hard ground where her enemies instantly showered with bullets. Turning and tossing, she evaded them skillfully and gracefully, like a ballerina among the falling stars.

Driven to slip the hands of Hades, Shella took down one of the guards, held him and threw him onto his comrades, sending them flying into the other end of the field. Pressing on the triggers, she fired back left and right. From the attic, Aya cursed as he aimed at the snipers hidden among the bushes. Quickly, he shot at the headlights, swallowing Gloven's men into the night's darkness, hoping it would give Shella the extra edge she needed against the swamping black ants. Digging into Shella's haversack, he took out a grenade. Biting onto the pin, he plugged it out and threw the destructive object onto the obstructive bushes below. Fierce clouds of dirt, smoke and fire exploded, sending its charred victims everywhere in bits and pieces.

Manx, wearing a headphone, typed furiously on the keyboard; half wishing that Shella & Aya wouldn't cause too much damage that could affect the communication systems. The laptop screen fizzled with words and numbers, tensing Manx by the seconds. Scattering her thoughts was the ominous banging of the doors and hostile voices. Darting up, she could see cracks protruding on the wooden surface. Aya heard it too. Finishing with the last of the grenades, he roughly passed Manx a small revolver. Pulling up the desk, he pushed it straight to the door, together with the rest of the furniture.

Meanwhile, Manx was emptying the remaining contents of the haversack, a rope and a few harnesses. Outside, she heard drying screams. Peeping from the opened window, she gasped at the sight of Shella's round boomerang flying in the air, slicing and dicing the men from limb to limb, like it had a mind of its own – aggressive and bloodthirsty. The men went on four arms in vain to avoid it but it simply knew where to go and what to do. Once and twice, Manx saw the deadly weapon cutting men from their abdomen to heads, sinking deeply into their torsos and bursting out, leaving trails of internal organs and hot dark blood.

From the folds of her left boot, Shella held out a liquor bottle and took a deep draught. With a lit lighter on one hand, she blew out a fiery wave upon the fleeing men. The fire caught hold of their clothes and started feeding, causing the men to scream as they rolled across the field. Shella grinned. Suddenly, green electric sparks danced around her body, forcing her to drop defenseless on her knees. She let out a sharp cry.

Seeing an opportunity, one solider struck her with the butt of his machine gun. Shella fell hard to the ground. Landing on her back, she saw him aiming right at her head. His face was petrifying, his eyes hard over the losses of his comrades. Out of the blue, his eyes turned dull and lifeless. Shella felt his corpse falling next to her. Looking up, she saw Aya & Manx scaling down the cathedral, each of them holding on to a gun.

"Double protection," Shella muttered under her breath. "Argh!" Sucking in the air as another green electric sparks encircled her. She felt she was burnt alive. "Damn it!" She cursed, smelling the foul steam arising from her suit.

"Shella," Manx ran towards her as Aya kept a sharp lookout for more of Gloven's men. "Bear with it. We'll get you to the doctors once we crossed Hibou Bridge."

"Doctors?" Shella snarled, as she half-placed her weight on Manx's petite figure. "I rather die than let them touch me. They will start experimenting me once they get their filthy hands all over me."

"We'll see. Come on, there are more of them up at the attic. We'll be sitting ducks if we stick around any longer." Turning to Aya. "Where's the jeep?"

"Hidden among the forests. Half a mile at the back of the cathedral," Aya moved in and took Shella. "I'll carry her. It would be easier and faster this way."

"Thanks," answered Manx, relieved. Surveying the area overlaid with the outcomes of a fight that lasted for a couple that seemed like an eternity. She throatily murmured.

"This place of worship is now a place of death."

Tracking through the bushes, undergrowth and mud, Aya, Shella and Manx reached towards their jeep, safely hidden by the camouflage of dried woven leaves. Yanking it aside, Manx prepared to start the engine as Aya gently placed Shella at the back seat. Unscrewing a bottle, Aya poured the cool water upon Shella's dried shriveled skin and gave some to moisten her parched lips and throat. The seductive temptress skin was eroding away, revealing thin veins of green and blue merging among the shades of bronze, brown and black flesh. Her spirited cat-eyes were dimming at its last spark and her voice was coarse unlike the saucy appealing one she had before.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm still alive and kicking while I still can."

"I know."

"Gloven wasn't there. I didn't see him."

"Maybe he was but he was hiding."

"Non, he wasn't there. He wasn't there at all. Manx is right. Frère did betray me after all."

"That's an assumption."

"Non, Gloven would always be there whenever there's a chance to get us. He wants to be there to witness his prey falling into his clutches. That chasser will never absent himself when he's at the edge of victory." Half chocking, she continued. "Frère has a secret ability that he has been hiding from me. I don't know what it is with it, he knows a lot." A deep crackling sound vibrated out from her stiff lips. "He gains information about you guys. I don't know how he got it but he has access to them. You have be wary of him, Aya. Like Fideline said, he's a two headed snake."

"Rest now, Shella," Manx softly coaxed. "You need to…"

A rustling of the bushes disrupted her. Aya held out his sword while Manx held her revolver. The bushes continued to shook and the twigs snapped beneath the stranger's weight. Out came a similar figures, it was André carrying an unconscious Omi in his steady arms.

"André," Aya approached him, glancing at Omi. "What happened?"

"Frère…"

Omi awoke to the familiar deep raspy tone of someone he knew. In between his drowsiness, he saw man donned in black leathery suit, removing his recognizable tribal mask. Omi was taken back at the appearance of the man who savagely attacked Yoji and nearly left him for dead. Muscular toned and built, clean shaved chiseled Greek face, baby blue eyes shadowed with sinister thoughts and lips full with the anticipating of fresh blood. Flinging the silencer to one side, he watched him walking his leisurely time towards André holding the lifeless Fideline in his arms. Omi held on to his crossbow tightly.

"You know, my dearest André, that bullet was meant for your little friend, Omi." Baby blue eyes fixed, gleaming evilly. "Don't pretend to be semi-conscious, little boy. Look at him now. Pathetic. Still in shock over the loss of this pitiful wretch."

Pulling André by his hair, " Come, let's see what she has told you." Surfacing out from his ivory skin, hideous strands of lavender threads obtruded out and sunk deep into André's skull. André trembled violently; his mouth gaped opened, eyes turning white, skin losing color. Frère smiled at the torment of his victim.

Acting towards his instincts, Omi grabbed his crossbow and fired. His arrows flew and sliced the lavender threads. André collapsed facedown to the ground. Frère staggered backwards, clutching his left hand. Turning, he faced Omi.

"Don't interrupt me, boy. Or else I'll do the same thing what I did to your friends back home in Japan."

"Ken? Yoji?" Omi bit his lip. "What did you do to them?"

"Oh nothing really," Frère fingered his jagged dagger from his side pocket. "I merely needed some little information about your whereabouts, what you know about Âme and a tweedy bit of your backgrounds. They didn't put up much of a fight, I'm afraid. In fact," His nails at the dagger's tip. "There is nobody who could match me. Shella is my dear sex toy while André," looking at the crumpled heap. "Always succumb to his human emotions and yearnings. That is why I despise you humans, such miserable weaklings confined by their limitations."

Omi threw his darts; Frère caught them in his hand and crushed them. Extremely swift, he launched forward and punched Omi in the stomach. Omi gasped and later gave a high-pitched scream as he felt the dagger sinking deep in the flesh of his right palm. Frère firmly pinned Omi's left hand onto the cold table while the other grasped the soft parts of Omi's neck. His legs heavily attached on the lower half of Omi's wriggling body. He let out a deep laugh.

"Néanmoins (Nevertheless), you can provide the pleasures of making me feel like a god!" Omi felt the lavender threads caressing the sides of his face and Frère's hot breath. "Come, Omi. Let me in your little skull of yours that made André incapable of killing you."

In a spilt twilight, Omi underwent an undistinguishable ordeal that was left him dazzling blinded and stationary. The lavender threads were penetrating through his skin, flesh, brain and all. Like worms, they borrowed their way into the nerve cells, extracting bits of information. Oxygen left his lungs with stunning suddenness, making his whole body numb with shock. Lightening flashes swept past him like a roller coaster ride, his limbs seemed to turn into lead. Frère's voice was echoing from a distance, in fragments like stray leaves in a howling wind.

"Ah!!" Frère fondled his newfound toy. "What a childhood you have, Omi. Your father wouldn't pay for your ransom. Your Uncle Persia trained you to be an assassin and recently, you killed your brother by your own hands. How tragic and painful it has been for you."

Examining the stone-cold brown eyes staring in unknown spare, Frère continued his amusement and licked the warm blood oozing down Omi's right arm. Unlike the other two, this one provided an enjoyable entertainment. Moving his hand down, he gradually unzipped the dark navy jacket and unbuttoned the dusty white shirt, button by button, exposing the bare naked upper half of Omi's youthful body. There were signs of his manly growth development and the potential of becoming an attractive adult. Frère licked his lips as he felt the flawless skin upon his fingers. As this boy matured, there were lessons that needed to be taught to him and Frère was more than willing to let him experience first hand. Inch by inch, he fingered the sides and counted the rib bones of his paralyzed victim. Squeezing and spreading the soft flesh, he watched Omi mumbling inaudible words in his giddy trance.

Heightened by the half-naked sight and sounds of explosion, rattling guns and screams, Frère took his time proceeding on to unclick the belt, pulling down the shorts, revealing the plain brown boxer's shorts. Tilting his head in pleasure, he placed his hands upon the shorts, lifted and pulled down to see the most exquisite body part he desired to see most.

Wham! Something solid and stiff struck on his head, followed by another clobbering and a punch in the stomach. Next, Frère was thrown onto the kitchen shelf. He fell hard onto the floor; broken pieces of dishes rained on him. Before he could get onto his feet, blows hit him across the face, chest and abdomen. A sharp object slashed upon his cheek, his tongue tasted his own blood. Then, something deadly jagged was inserted into his side. He gagged at the anguish of his flesh tearing within. The baby-blue eyes saw someone standing over him, his raven hair wet with sweat and seaweed eyes burning rage. André, huffed in hatred of this foul freak, turned and quickly held Omi in his arms. He called out to the boy who continued to mumble in his fading trance.

"Omi, wake up! Wake up!" Shaking him fiercely.

"André…" Omi whispered vaguely, his eyes flickering.

"Hush, you're safe," André ripped a sleeve of his shirt and bind Omi's bleeding hand. "Stay awake."

"Comme toujours, tu es beaux and yet nobody is safe with you, André," coughed Frère, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "Nobody is." Grasping embedded dagger in his side, he shook with intense pain and jerked it out. Half-looking at him. "As long as there are people who knows about Âme, you and I are not safe." Flashing a devilishly smile. "You are good, André. To be the first to stab me, that's an honor."

"There's no honor in hurting people," André spat, carrying Omi in his arms. "You got what you wanted from me. Why them? Manx, Yoji, Ken, Aya and Omi. They're on our side!"

"I wanted to know," Frère got into his feet, clutching his injured side. "Why they bother to be in this bloody business? All because of this journalist, Seta Sakimoto? These humans have an intriguing sentimental towards their own kind. Not only that, they became assassins to kill the corrupt and bring the weak to the light while they shut themselves in the darkness." He grunted. "Why bother to sacrifice themselves to Hell?"

"Humans are such nosy beings, poking their noses in things they shouldn't. Darn, Fideline. Without Naissance, this whole trip has become meaningless!"

"In other words, this whole Âme project is worthless. How many people are going to die? Frère, this has to end!" André hissed. "Enough with secrets, lying, riddles, running, fleeing, killing or what not. There must be an end to this senseless path of deaths."

"There will be an ending," Frère hotly replied. "When Gloven and all of Âme are pulling up the daises!"

"Then stop hurting me, Frère! Help me instead."

"Discontinue your foolish emotions. It is risky to put your trust on people like them! Darn, it was wrong of me to let Sakimoto take you to Japan. You should have gone with Shella and me."

"To do what? To lead a life set by the rules of Âme," André burst out, new weary overwhelmed him. "By the love of Bon Dieu, you are still living like you were at Âme. Stop living in the past and move on!"

'Se Taire!" Frère held up his hand. "Enough wimpy talk and get going." Facing the door, "Right now, I rather vent myself on the house flies with their toy guns than with you." Taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "Remember, André, die than to be caught. Gloven will still be able to fulfill his dreams once he has either of us. Naissance, Pierce Tombale, Longévité and the hard disk were basically decoys for him. The real data are actually us."

"And how would you know?"

"Gerald Hermil, the president of Âme and his co-president, Jeremy Jorom. They told me." Puffing out a cloud of smoke. "With some addition persuading of my own right before they died." André opened a windowsill and began to climb out with Omi slung upon his shoulder.

"André!" Frère smirked at the paused figure. "Don't think it is over yet. When we meet again, I'll kill that boy."

André said nothing and disappeared into the shadows.

"At least there's one part of Frère that I know," Shella said gruffly, her hair flapping in the wind. "He's anomalous in his thoughts and actions."

"As always," agreed André, tightly holding the sleeping Omi in his blankets. "I don't know what is he trying to do. Is he helping us or Gloven?" Rising his voice. "How far are we before we reach Hibou Bridge?"

"5 miles to be exact," answered Manx. "Let's hope for a smooth ride."

Booming among the treetops came a troubling chopping sound of a helicopter. Aya snatched up a shooter and started firing. Manx stepped on the accelerator. The jeep roared and speeded down the road, its tires screeched at every turn. From the corners of his eye, André could see moving vehicles zooming across the side roads. Pulling out a pistol from his right boot, he handed over to Shella.

"Think you can fire a few more rounds?"

"What the hell! A few more won't hurt me a bit," Shella flashed a naughty smile and began shooting at the approaching vehicles.

André fired as well, aiming at the tires. He aimed well. The tires burst and the vehicles were moving in wobbly direction. Some crashed into each others, exploding into flames and melted rubber and metal. The scattered pieces provide an obstruction, allowing them more distance between escape and being caught. In front of him, André could see Aya having trouble aiming at the sniper while keeping his balance on the bumpy jeep. Within a blink of an eye, blood spurted out, the shooter plunged onto the ground and Aya nearly fell out if André hadn't grab him by collar and pulled him back inside.

"Aya…" Manx could see a deep wound glistening in the black trench coat.

"I'm alright," Aya said, clenching his shoulder. "The sniper. He's still alive."

A loud bang was heard and down fell somebody.

"Not anymore," ended Shella. "Step on it, Manx… Argh!" She shrieked as the green electric waves crackled from her limbs. Hot steam rose from her darkened skin. The stench of burnt skin and ruptured veins was revolting. White bubbly foam dripped from Shella's parched mouth. Her cat-eyes widened in throbbing agony as she jerked uncontrollably up and down. André passed the still sleeping Omi in Aya's care and moved towards her.

"Shella," André seized her forcefully. "Fight it, Shella. Fight it!"

More jeeps loaded with men and artillery rushed out from nowhere and was swarming from all sides. Manx could see the welcoming Hibou Bridge. However, the Calvary was at the other end.

"Damn it!" Manx cursed. "They are not going to help us."

"What do you mean by that?" André stared at her in disbelief.

"Beyond the bridge is a town, a civilian area," Manx answered. "The government can't afford to have serious damages. Likewise, they aren't going to provide military to deal with Gloven's men since they wouldn't want the press to know about Âme. What a scoop when they find out."

"In other words," Aya concluded. "We are on our own and outnumbered."

"Trust no one," André quoted Frère's warning. "He knew this would happen."

"Frère told me yesterday that he has an idea on how to finish off the remaining of Gloven's men but I had no idea that he's planning to use us like chess pieces," Shella coughed violently. "That bastard!" Looking up at André. "I want you to do something for me. Get me out of this jeep."

"What?"

"You heard me, drop me here. André, I'm dying," Shella said mechanically. "My body is rejecting Enchaîné DNA entirely and the sighs are showing. There is no way I can fight against it." Cat eyes firmly locked into André's seaweed eyes. "Don't tell me about the doctors. I'm sick of them and tired of enduring the pain and living inside hell zone. Frère doesn't care a damn thing about us except himself. You have to get far away from him, you understand?" Taking in another wave of green electric sparks. "Right now, I'm burning up and might be a living time bomb. You said what would happen to me, the same thing that happens towards our brothers & sisters."

"You can't leave me!" cried André, fighting back tears. "Not like this!"

"I would rather die than to be in the hands of Âme or the government. Both sides want Frère and me. To them, we are a living proof of their creation that defiles the Maker. The difference is for you is that you were conceived in your mother's womb. No matter who the father may be. You mustn't let your mother and Sakimoto died in vain. Compredez-vous(you comprend)?"

"Shella…"

"You were always meant for something else, André. Don't you know?" Shella smiled weakly. "Remember me, will you? That way, you'll be the proof that I existed as a human being not washed-out synthetic creature."

With her final strength, Shella pushed André far away and heaved herself out of the jeep. Rolling and rolling, she felt the rough ground biting against her raw flesh. A concentrated burning force was flowing through her as she saw the crackling green electric waves dancing around her. Heat was consuming her but she didn't feel any pain but a strange inner sense of peace as she saw the jeep fading into a mere spot in the night.

And for one time in her life, she embraced the green electric waves, the most picturesque sight of all.

Onto the brightly lit Hibou Bridge, Manx, Aya and André saw a lime green mushroom cloud erupting upwards the heavens. At its root were flames of red, orange and copper, burning every thing in its path.

"SHELLA!!!!! " screamed André, his wails so pain stricken and earsplitting that Frère could hear it from the river end not far from Hibou Bridge.

Frère watched the mushroom cloud gradually breaking up into broken lines of mist and smoke. Pressing his hands to his lips, he threw a kiss at it. His voice was deep and throaty.

"Au revoir, mon amour. (Goodbye, my love)"

With 2 fingers, he made a cross sigh, from his left shoulder to the right, then from his forehead to his chest.

"Que tu repose en paix (May you rest in peace). "

À Suivre