Ch. 64: Absolute power corrupts absolutely (P1)

A.N.:

Hey everyone!

Sorry, I've been pretty out of it lately for some reason.

Anyway,

This was supposed to be a longer chapter but I got this far and my Adderall ran out. I will get more this weekend so I should get the rest of it typed up after that.

In the next chapter, Becket learns the identity of the being that is responsible for what has transpired.

Read and review if you want!

Using my bioengineered reflexes that were honed by more than a year of constant warfare, I managed to dodge the first wave of approximately five telephone pole-sized tentacles by mere inches as they plowed through the air inches from my frame before imbedding themselves into the ground. Weaving between the tentacles, I fired my assault rifle at the towering mass of organic material in the center of the cemetery turned battlefield. The dark red aura continued to envelope my frame and I failed to feel any significant amount of pain when I failed to dodge one of the tentacles of the second wave. Despite being violently knocked off my feet and sent flying a good ten feet backwards through the air, I landed on my feet with ease with only the loud protest of the rubber soles of my combat boots to indicate the force of the landing as I skid across the surface of what remained of the paved walkway about a foot before coming to a stop by swinging my right leg back behind me.

Reloading my rifle on the fly, I ran towards the far left spire. A frontal assault was clearly not going to be a viable method to dispatch the abomination. The creature's defense was too powerful for me to challenge it outright on my own. I would have to find a way to weaken it before I could reattempt a frontal assault. Moving between the headstones, I moved towards the nearby spire while doing my best to dodge the waves of tentacles. The probability was low but perhaps "The Overseer" had created the abomination while still leaving a way to defeat it. I could not fathom a scenario that would require this creature to be created with a built-in method to destroy it other than if, for some reason, it was able to escape the control of The Overseer, somehow find a way into the main plane of reality, and become a threat to its creator.

It was a long shot but, with nothing to lose, I made my way to the spire that loomed before me. The spires in the four corners appeared to be "feeding" the main body of the abomination. If there was a method to destroy the creature, inspecting the spires would be a good place to start. I let out a grunt as I stumbled after accidently kicking one of the headstones as I neared the massive structure before me. I was unable to regain my footing before I felt an immense force slam into my back. Once again knocked off my feet, I fell forward and landed hard before rolling through several grave markers.

Deep, thick cracks appeared on the exterior of my HUD glasses as I rolled six or seven times along my right side. Somehow managing to avoid impaling myself on my rifle's affixed bayonet, I finally came to a stop a few steps away from the base of the towering structure. I started to get to my feet but I had barely put my left foot beneath me before yet another tentacle attempted to wrap itself around my armored frame. Letting out a loud demonic roar, I willed several molten hot strands of barbwire to manifest out of the ground and then saw through the afflicting appendage.

I had managed to get to my feet when a smaller tentacle smacked me across my face with enough force to shatter the already damaged right lens of my HUD glasses. My body instinctively clamped my eye shut just in time as I felt the razor-sharp pieces of the shattered lens slice into the flesh surrounding it as they found one of the few holes in the protective hide of my skull ski mask. Scowling beneath the macabre mask, I reached up with my gloved left hand and removed the useless piece of equipment from my face.

After I threw it onto the ground, I willed even more strands of molten barbwire out of the ground around me. Moments later, I was surrounded by more than a dozen of the sentient lengths of wire that were born from my twisted memories of my years of service in Delta Force. My summoned allies worked together to form a protective line of defense against the abomination's unrelenting tentacles. However, despite the minor amounts of rest that my reprieve allotted me, it was clear that my body was in a bad way as I walked toward the spire. My entire physical frame was on the verge of exhaustion, a sense of my life force being depleted filled my being, a growing feeling of nausea was taking hold inside me, and I was becoming disorientated due to an accumulating cloud of numb confusion inside my mind.

I summoned every ounce of will power that I had in order to maintain a level of combat effectiveness and stave off the growing feeling of panic as I realized what was happening. My physical vessel had reached its breaking point as the combination of the prolonged use of my psionic abilities and the fatigue of war had finally pushed it to its limit. My psionic abilities and Alma's "unlocking" of my full physical potential to give me more or less the same level of endurance and strength of Point Man did make me more durable than a typical human being but I still was just a man of flesh and bone.

My Delta Force training kicked in and I cast aside my instinctive desires of self-preservation as I focused on my mission. My vision cleared and the confusion left my mind as I entered a single-minded state much like the one I had been in during the Fairport Incident. With more than just my own survival at stake, I could not waiver and fail those that I would leave behind. In addition, I was always aware of the fact that dying would not be the sanctuary of peace that it was for others.

As she had stated multiple times, Alma would never let me leave her side. My physical body, as much as it eagerly responded to her mischievous and sometimes even cruelly skilled touch, afforded me a measure of protection from the lewd goddess. I was a mortal being of flesh and bone while she was a being of energy. As such, no matter how close we were to each other, there would always be a barrier between us due to the differences of our existence. I did not have any desire to be completely at the twisted woman's mercy after the last obstacle between her and the more sadistic methods to amuse herself at my expense was gone. Steeling myself, I began to inspect the structure before me.

Illuminated by the full moon above me was a large rectangular block of what appeared to be obsidian. On the surface of the spire's base were symbols that resembled the type of symbolic language that one would associate with the Ancient Egyptians. However, these symbols were different and the best that I could describe them is that they clearly had not originated from the mind of a human being. They all had a kind of level of inhuman complexity about them that my mind simply could not process them on an individual level.

I reached out with my gloved left hand and then placed its palm against the exterior of the seemingly stagnant, in-active object. However, I quickly removed my hand in shock as fire manifested from the symbols in the vicinity of where my palm had made contact with it. I watched with a feeling of reserved optimism as my action had the unanticipated effect of somehow activating the object.

Radiating out from the original spot, the symbols were all soon ejecting fire from their engraved patterns. The two inch long flames were lime green in color and seemed to have no reason to exist since there was no discernible fuel source. The shape of each flame perfectly traced the outline of their symbol and, though they flickered as any normal flame would, their height remained perfectly consistent along their entire length. Approximately ten seconds after the hundreds of symbols had all been ignited, a deep rumble resonated out from the object's depths.

I took a step back as smooth seams appeared on the polished black exterior of the spire's base while the deep rumbling continued. The seams divided the rectangular object down the center both horizontally and vertically as the structure began to expand before my eyes. Bringing my rifle up at the ready, I mentally cursed as I feared that I had simply compounded the danger of the situation.

However, moments later, I saw that it was not the base itself that was expanding and slowly lowered my weapon. Rather than merely being the exterior of the object, the smooth black surface was actually a set of protective plates that had been covering the real base all the way up to the beginning of the spire. Without the use of any specialized mechanisms such as a hydraulic system, the plates were soon approximately twelve inches away from where they had been and now ceased their movement as they hoovered in mid-air without any visible aid. Upon seeing the base of the spire, I looked at the overhead tentacle and then followed it back to where it was connected to the towering organic mass in the center of the cemetery.

In almost disbelief about what I was seeing, I remarked to no one in particular, "Oh fucking perfect! A goddamn hydra!"

The base, a massive rusted drill platform similar to what one would find on an oil rig, was actually merely a harvester of psionic energy from some unknown deep beneath my feet. Even in the darkness, I could see the thick oozing asphalt tar-like substance around the hole in the ground where the badly dented metal pipe was placed. The substance was being pumped into the abomination at presumably a constant rate from the four spire via the connection tubes.

I grimaced as a new wave of nausea swirled around my lower torso when the sickening implications of what I was seeing hit home inside my laboring mind. In Greek Mythology, the Hydra was a serpent that was said to be all but immortal because, when one of its heads was sliced off, identical copies would grow out of the opening and thus making the abomination even more dangerous than it had been before. Of course, it was said that Hercules slayed the Hydra by first slicing the heads off and then cauterizing the wound by burning it in order to prevent the it from being able to regenerate itself. Unfortunately for me, that would not work here.

"It seems that you are in quite the predicament, Father."

The soft angelic voice caused me to deactivate my reflexes and then look down to my right. There, I saw my pure and innocent daughter standing calmly in her pearl white dress that was reminiscent of her mother's infamous red dress. The light of the full moon and glowing molten strands of barbwire seemed to reflect off her porcelain doll-like skin as she smiled up at me with a subtle smile and grey eyes that seemed incapable of possessing an ounce of hatred.

Intrigued, I inquired the raven haired child, "What are you doing here, Amara? I thought that I was the only one allowed in here."

My daughter raised her right hand up until her index finger was placed against her lips. Then, seconds later, she winked as she said with a mischievous tone, "It's a secret." Amara then explained, "I am a positive psionic…the first in a very long time. Therefore, I am exempt from almost every law and restriction of both the human and spirit world."

I smiled weakly in an attempt to hide the deteriorating state of my body. Naturally, the intelligent, keen-eyed girl was not deceived. The innocent child's eyes shinned in mute fright and confusion of the state of her father as she asked with a concerned tone while she reached out with her right hand, "Father…"

I waved my gloved left hand and forced a smile as I reassured her, "Don't worry, Amara. No one is tougher than your old man."

She flashed a small smile before she replied, "I know…but if mother saw you like this…"

A stab of guilt filled my mind as I thought of Alma's arch angelic face filled with motherly concern as she often had when I was a child. Nothing broke her heart more than seeing any of her "children" in pain unless, of course, in my case, she was the one that was causing it. Playing to her mischievous side, I said with a hushed tone, "It will be our little secret."

She nodded as she flashed me an adorable smile. Then, looking at the scene around us, Amara commented, "Fascinating…using the combined psionic energy from these trapped spirits to create a regenerative creature."

I asked with a sarcastic tone, "You want to sound less impressed there, sweetie?"

My daughter giggled for a moment and then replied, "Disgusting...yes...but you do have to admire the creativity to the approach."

I sighed and then asked, "So, how do I kill it?"

The raven-haired child explained, "In its current state, you simply cannot. The amount of residual psionic energy will far outlast your body, Father." She paused for a moment before she continued as she seemed to be talking to herself while she was in thought, "I wonder if increasing the flow would cause the creature to grow in size…?"

Her comment made me recall Chloé's statement, "Too much of that which gives life takes it away."

I thought for a moment. Then, a sudden spark of inspiration hit me. Naturally, power was the key to dominating one's enemies. Only fools believed in idle words and empty threats. Only through the harnessing and use of power could one achieve their goals. However, too much power was more dangerous than any adversary. It was time to apply philosophy to a real world situation.

Sensing my train of thought, Amara commented with an amused tone, "What is that you humans say…power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely? Way to think on your feet, Father."

I asked, "Will it work?"

My daughter cupped her chin with her right hand while she had an expression of deep thought on her doll-like face. After a moment of thought, she lowered her hand and then looked at me before explaining, "I am not sure to be honest. This is Mother's area of expertise."

I inquired, "You can see and manipulate time though…why not look forward and see if it will work?"

Amara giggled in an innocent manner before she replied, "You're funny, Daddy. Time doesn't work like that. I can see forward in time, as you suggested, but I see ALL the outcomes and there is not a way to determine which one you will get until it happens. Time is linear in a sense but not in the way you humans would think. Think of it as a family tree except three-dimensional and massive in scale…and that is just for one time plane."

Confused, I asked, "Isn't time curved or something? I am not a physicist or anything but I vaguely recall Einstein or someone stating that time is curved."

My heart felt as if it melted as Amara gave me a soul-shattering adorable pout before she countered, "Is this really the time to be questioning things?"

I smiled and then replied, "Right, right."

The raven-haired girl frowned slightly and then advised me out of concern, "Just hold on, Father. Once you deal with Chen, you will be sent back to Mother and she will tend to your wounds. I fear what she would do to you if your body succumbs before then. As much as she has improved and genuinely loves you, she cannot escape her nature. After all, we are the 'evil' version of ourselves. I wouldn't be here if it was any other case. Only out of such evil could good come into existence."

Before I could reply, she continued, "So…please hold on, Daddy. If this works, you will only get a small window of opportunity to make it count. I know that death does not mean the same to you as it does to most humans but…I…I don't want…to see…"

I saw her beautiful grey eyes beginning to shine I reassured her with a firm, confident tone, "Do not worry, Amara. Your Father is not going to die today."

My daughter raised her right hand up with her pinky finger extended and pointed towards me. For a moment, I was confused about what she was doing. However, the young psionic cleared up my confusion moments later when she asked with a soft tone, "Promise?"

For some reason, her childish mannerisms did not irritate me as they would have had they been performed by anyone else. Instead, it actually felt like a breath of fresh air in the choking thick oblivion that surrounded me. Smiling ever so slightly, I reached forward with my left hand and then wrapped my pinky around her much smaller one. As my much larger and slightly armored digit curled around the beautiful child's much smaller pale digit, I assured her, "Promise."

She pouted yet again before she asked, "Really, really promise?"

I sighed and then released my grip on her pinky while I simultaneously bent down. Before Amara could react, I dropped my rifle and then scooped her up in my open arms. I pulled the worried young girl against my heavily armored frame in a gentle manner until her arms were wrapped around my neck and my chin was resting against her forehead. Despite the skull ski mask that I wore, I gently kissed the top of her forehead. Unlike her mother, Amara exuded a kind of gentle warmth that would easily be able to restore peace to even the most troubled broken soul. In the brief moment that we were in close proximity, the numb dark cloud that had been overtaking my body was temporarily exorcised.

As I held her close and placed my chin on top of her raven-hair covered head, I assured her, "I am not going to die today, Amara. I promise."

My actions seemed to have finally convinced my daughter and I stood back up after releasing her and, of course, retrieving my rifle. As I stood before her once more, she cheerfully remarked, "You can do it, Daddy!" I smiled back slightly and then give a slight nod. Then, before my eyes, she vanished in a cloud of mist.

Brining my rifle back up at the ready, I began to make my way over to the control panel of the psionic energy gatherer before me. My manifested barbwire barricade was holding back the onslaught of the abomination's tentacles but I could not depend on them forever. With renewed vigor, I reached the control panel and investigated it.

The rust-covered panel was approximately the size of two office desks placed side-by-side. There was three rows of gauges and analogue-style readouts. However, a layer of some kind of clear material had built up against the interior glass windows and obscured them to the point that only the faint sight of their dark black needles was visible. To the left and right of the gauges was a large lever in the middle of a track.

There were markings at the top, middle, and bottom of the track but the lettering had long since been illegible. I reached out and gripped the left lever. However, when I tried to pull it towards me, only a dull metal thud could be heard. The lever must have been frozen solid by rust and I did not have the time to try to force it free. Instead, I released my grip and turned my attention to the other lever. This time, when I pulled it towards me, the rusted object forced its way through the build-up and down to its lowest position.

It soon became clear that it was not the affect that I desired when the flow of material audibly slowed but not enough to cause the creature any visible issues. Gripping the lever once again, I pushed it until it was at its highest position. The flow of psionic energy audibly increased and the oil rig-like structure began to shake. I released my grip and then turned to see what kind of effect the increased flow was having upon the abomination.

A wave of pessimistic optimism filled me as I saw that the organic mass was growing in size at an uncontrolled rate. While it had the unfortunate consequence of making it even more dangerous by increasing the number and thickness of its tentacles, it was clear that the creature was not in control of its own growth. I had found it: the Hydra's Achilles's Heel. It was an abomination but it was still bound by a little inconvenient force know to us mortals as Gravity. Once it reached a large enough mass, it would no longer be able to maintain itself. I had no doubt that it would soon be able to figure out a way to counter the force of gravity upon its new titanic size. However, in the brief window of vulnerability, I would rip out its heart or whatever it was that was the control center of the monster.

I turned my attention back to the control panel. Holding the lever tightly in my grasp, I then forced it to the right hard enough to snap the shaft off at its base. I tossed the useless object down onto the nearly unrecognizable ground. Then, I oriented myself.

I was in the front left corner. I needed to leave the front right corner psionic energy harvester for last in order to be close to the most direct path (what was left of the original path through the cemetery) when the final lever was activated. Therefore, in order to be efficient, my destinations would be the back left corner, then the back right corner, and, finally, the front right corner. Activating my reflexes and summoning my manifested strands of molten barbwire, I began to sprint towards the next spire.

As I ran through the onslaught, an almost forgotten memory flashed before my mind's eye.

Alma sat on her knees just beside me inside my room. All around us were pages of notebook paper that had my handwritten notes about Armacham. My best friend had a bored expression on her normally emotionless yet captivating face while I calmly read my notes over and over again trying to find something I might have missed the countless other times I read them. I was so absorbed in my notes that I was slightly startled when my raven-haired companion asked, "What is this?"

I turned to see her examining a piece of paper that I thought I had hidden from her. A wave of warmth spread across my slightly sunken and pale cheeks as Alma slowly began to smile in amusement as she studied the hand drawn emblem of two crossed scythes below a large skull that had an anaconda spilling out of its open jaws. The overwhelming desire to cease to exist filled my mind as my friend looked away from the page and at me with glowing orange eyes that were burning with amusement.

I felt as though I was shrinking as she inched forward by crawling on her hands and knees while she inquired, "What is this, Michael?" The next thing I knew, her enchanting face was inches away from my own. Her cool breath was even more pronounced due to my involuntary blushing. The electrifying sensation only served to cause my hair to stand on end and further my embarrassment as the warm sensation spread even further along my face.

I was not intimidated or uncomfortable with the close proximity of the strange but charismatic young woman (I was not ignorant of her true age or nature) that had become my only true ally and friend. One's limitations on love and friendship were only bound by society if one allowed oneself to be a slave to their acceptance.

Just like Alma, society had abandoned me so I was never bound by their limitations to begin with. She had shown me that the only hold they had on me was just a mere ghost within my own mind. She had set me free. One moment of fear; one moment of the terror of a leap of faith from which there was no return; one moment of committing my complete loyalty to the raven-haired goddess; and I was free. In exchange for my loyalty to the point of killing another human being on nothing more than her command, she had given me the gift of true freedom from my fellow man.

She leaned in and whispered with a playful tone in my right ear, "Michael…tell me…come on…I will not make fun of you."

Fighting to resist the urges brought on by her close proximity, I stammered, "I-It…it's th-the…fla-flag."

Clearly enjoying the effect that she was having upon me, Alma pressed, "The flag of what?"

I shook my head and closed my eyes. The raven-haired psionic giggled and then nibbled on my ear in a teasing manner. As she did so, I sensed her arms moving past my frame as she placed her hands on the ground just beyond my back. My entire face began to burn as I shivered in response to her teasing. Moments later, she whined, "Please?"

Finally, I explained, "It's the fl-flag for wh-when w-we…rule…the…um…world?"

There was an agonizing moment of complete silence. Then, I suddenly let out a yelp as I found myself on my back and pinned down by her. Alma's smiling face loomed above me as she had her hands on either side of my head and her thin legs straddling my almost effeminately thin waist. She reminded me of a predator that was examining its prey in an almost intimate manner before it brutally ripped the life force out of its body.

However, in the case of this predator, my life force was not what she had an appetite for. A look of approval mixed with amusement was visible in her enchanting eyes as she asked somewhat rhetorically, "Oh…what have I done?" Alma paused to take hold of my bruised right hand with her porcelain-like left hand. With little effort, she then guided my hand up to her left cheek.

The powerful psionic gently pressed the palm of my hand against the perfectly smooth skin of her cheek before, with a manner and tone of voice that was alien to her childish body, she began, "So…"

My ability to have clear thoughts began to dissolve away as the beautiful goddess slowly guided my hand across the surface of her body by starting from her cheek and then moving in a torturously slow pace down towards her developing chest.

As my hand reached her neck, she continued, "…the little boy has felt the itch…"

I began to tremble slightly as my guided hand came to a stop and was then pressed against her left bosom. The worn material of Alma's red dress was thinner than one would initially suspect and thus the impact of the underlying contours of her manifested body was barely diluted. Moments later, my left hand had been pressed against her right bosom. My mind was sluggish as I shamelessly fell under the goddess's spell. She straightened her back slightly and then cocked her head to her left.

Alma continued with an enticing tone, "…that's my boy…you are hungry for it just as Mother is raising you to be…you want power…the power to make the pain go away…the power to make others feel your pain…the power to reshape the world in your image..."

Despite my dazed state, I felt the need to protest, "N-no…tha-that's not…it! I don't want power for myself! I want it to…"

I paused due to embarrassment. However, Alma leaned in and then asked in a playful tone, "To…?"

Mortified by how absurd my goal was, I screamed at myself inside my head to not answer her. However, for some inexplicable reason, I heard myself audibly respond, "To protect you."

The next spire base loomed before me. Just as I had done at the last one, I placed my gloved hand against its etched surfaced. The outer shell of the base began to levitate out of the way. The sound of my manifested barbwire strands sawing through the thicker tentacles and the sharp, thunderous report of my Patten Assault Rifle as I fired 7.8mm rounds at the onslaught filled the air as I waited for the lever to become accessible.

"Protect…me?"

I wanted to vanish from existence as the beautiful goddess released her grip on my hands while she began to study me with a blank expression. I was such an idiot! Me? Protect Alma? The raven-haired woman was likely the most powerful psionic in existence. The only kind of being that she would be in need of being protected from would likely see me as nothing more than a speck of dirt. That was why I wanted to become stronger. I wanted to be powerful enough to protect what I held dear.

However, instead of the onslaught of playful ridicule that I expected, Alma smiled for a moment and then slowly guided me up into a gentle hug. As we held each other, I felt my companion beginning to tremble. Alarmed, I inquired, "Alma? What's wrong?"

With her chin resting on my left shoulder, she whispered, "Nothing…you idiot."

With my chin resting on her left shoulder, I asked in confusion, "Hmm?"

The goddess explained, "I was just teasing you. Then you go and say something silly like that. Little boy you need to learn how to tell when I am just playing and when it is okay to nearly give me a heart attack by saying silly things like that."

Even more confused than I had already been, I replied, "Huh?"

Alma giggled and then said, "My…you really are hopeless are you not? That is fine though because you are my hopeless idiot."

Finally, the control panel of the second psionic energy harvester was accessible. I repeated my prior actions and then began to sprint to the next spire. As I ran, the effects of the new level of flow became apparent. The abomination grew yet again but it was clear that it was already in a bad way. Being a colonial organism rather than an individual organism, the monstrosity could only maintain its structure if all of the individual tentacles were able to distribute the work load evenly amongst themselves. The rapid, uncoordinated growth was undermining the delicate balance. In addition, the once unrelenting tentacles, though now the size of city buses, were moving in a sluggish manner due to their expanded proportions.

As I neared the spire, one of the tentacles attempted to smash me but, due to its slow movement speed, it slammed into the ground with enough force to penetrate several feet into the ground in front of me. I barely managed to remain standing due to the impact tremors but I continued forward. When the massive appendage did not move, I simply climbed up the side of its snake-like exterior. Despite its slick armored hide, I was able to get enough grip to reach the top of it. I then jumped down to the ground on the other side before it could react.