DEUS EX: Twelve Kings of Yore
Chapter One
Four months had passed, since completion of the Panama operation. Maintaining her cover, thus securing her place as a high-profile retainer for the Bratva, Yelena Fedorova's first assignment, and it's underlying purpose, was declared a success, paving the way to future information acquisition from the Russian crime syndicate, as well as setting up the groundwork to eventually recruit another government official, who would take Kontarsky's place, as an insider for the Juggernaut Collective. The destruction of the South African facility, and Chow's capture, was simply an added bonus, even though the Collective's science corps were yet to make good progress on understanding the acquired research material. Chow herself was... neutralised... not long afterwards. According to reports, there wasn't even an attempt to rescue her - a black-ops unit had penetrated the safehouse she was detained in, and simply made a clean sweep of the entire place.
Yelena wasn't the least bit surprised. That was the modus operandi for the kind of operations the Illuminati sanction. Whatever they had in place, to begin supplanting their defunct Tyrant corps, was clearly getting on it's feet. And continuing the old ways.
New generation of attack dogs – same purpose. But at least it will take them time to groom them properly, with all of the old guard, gone. And many will not survive their initial deployments. No doubt I will cross paths with some, eventually. And hopefully make my contribution to thinning the herd. Jensen... Ben... myself... it will be up to the three of us, to maintain balance.
Was her thought at the time. She didn't have the least bit of empathy or sympathy for those that would follow in her footsteps. She despised, what she was, before her awakening. And any who would follow, were targets to be destroyed, as far as she was concerned. She knew, first hand, the loss of humanity accompanying the – induction. They were not human, anymore. She was not human, during those years. Neither were any of the rest of them. Except Ben - who was cunning enough to get out, early.
Janus was good on his promise, as well... as the Collective had removed her kill-phrase algorhythm, following the conclusion of the operation. It was a cause for celebration for the young woman, and a chance – an outside chance – to finally begin, perhaps, building a semblance of a normal life, outside of her occupation.
Out of sight, of course. The civil disturbances and schism between normals and augmented people were only escalating. Despite the sealed nature of individual Collective cells, enough information was slipping out of Prague, via Picus and other mainstream news channels, that she could guess that things for augs were not going to get better, anytime soon. The bombing of the train station... the following authority crackdown on the populace – the prison camps springing up like mushrooms after a rain season. Rumours of organised terrorist activity. Although, given her own experiences, she was taking the term 'terrorist' coming from mainstream media, with a liberal cup of salt. She suspected said 'terrorists' were anything but. And that the bombing of the station was in fact a false-flag op, orchestrated by powers behind the throne... them.
And now the United Nations was finally on the verge of outlawing civilian augmentation altogether... giving in to fear that was so carefully propagated, she could see her former masters making headway towards their ultimate goal, of total control. Despite the setbacks... despite the monkey wrenches that the Collective was constantly throwing into the works. The machine was too massive, to jam so easily.
"You've got to wonder sometimes, if we're really fighting a losing war." - Irwine sighed.
The two of them, in their new home, a luxury penthouse within the Golden Triangle, Sankt Peterburg, were watching TV. Now a full-fledged retainer for Bratva, her loyalty proven, and enjoying corresponding amounts of protection and anonymity, having been 'made', and under a false identity, it was easy enough for Yelena to make introductions, and get Irwine into the fold, as well, as her... associate. The mafia took care of their own. Especially if proven valuable and useful, in 'salvaging a disaster', as the boss described their involvement with the shipment. If anything, Igor was happy, that things turned out as they did. They still got paid for their involvement in managing it, and now there were no loose ends to worry about.
The Collective approved of Irwine's induction, as well. Having two field operatives integrated into the mob, was better then one. And the man had certainly proven his own competence, during the operation.
Curled up agains his shoulder, the woman, dressed in a simple black T-shirt and slacks that fit over her long, cybernetic legs, her hair a mess, having took a bath recently, pursed her lips.
"It's not them, love. It's the people. People are so stupid. So easy to manipulate. You know, I have read once, that 'a single individual is smart, but a group of people are incredibly stupid'. I agree. It's the mob. And they know how to control a mob. That is their greatest weapon, I think. Those little sprinkles of fear and terror, that they conveniently instigate where and when needed. A butterfly effect. Trust me - I have done it. And I have seen it done. One of the purposes of the Tyrants, was... psychological warfare. Especially on civilians. Sometimes we didn't even have to do it directly. Using local assets was enough... or local law enforcement. Find a corrupt link, and make use of it, to push an agenda. Money shouts, and sheep listen." - she murmured.
"You don't think any of it was a coincidence? ARC and Rucker, the bombings, the camps, the crackdowns... what happened in London recently... ?" - he sighed.
She stirred.
"I think... coincidences don't exist in our world. The secret world. And I think coincidences aren't in their interest." - the way she said 'our', was telling. Irwine noticed that.
"I saw the footage of what went on between you and that prick, back before the Hole was abandoned. The mole. The one who threatened to blow your legs up with semtex." - he said.
"Hmm? Oh, yes... mister tough guy wanting to get off the hook. What happened to him in the end, anyway? I was not keeping track." - she asked, a bit distractedly.
"The Collective cut him loose, after grilling him down for info. Apparently also put a tracker in him, hoping he might be picked up again, by... well. Our friends, and lead us to some bigger fish. Guess what?" - he smirked without humour in it.
"He was neutralised..." - the woman growled, leaning back in the sofa, and closing her eyes. It wasn't a question. She didn't need to ask it. She knew how things worked.
"Yeah. In broad daylight. By all accounts, he went home to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to visit his folks and family. He was picked off, right on the driveway, getting out of his car. Right in front of his wife and two daughters. Cops were all over the place for a week. No traces. No witnesses. Investigation fizzled out due to lack of leads... His relatives were there too. God damn it!" - the man swore, feelingly.
Yelena's expression didn't change.
"I'm surprised it was just him. Unless they wanted the family to witness, to send a message. Usually – well. You know. No witnesses. No loose ends. But..." - she looked at the man she grew to love.
"I know what you are going to ask. Did I really mean it, when I told him there was no off-ramp? Do I think there is an... off-ramp, for us? A way out?" - she paused there.
"Is there?" - Irwine asked, almost involuntarily clenching his fist. Thinking about his own folks. His own family.
The look in her eyes was telling.
"Your new identity... Castor Van Strohm... you might consider making it your first one. Publicly, I mean. And find a way to... well... discreetly inform your family to disassociate themselves from you. In name and status. Citizenship, documents... identification. Don't leave a trail to follow. And be thorough about it. I can have Couture do the... in-depth part of it, through the citizen databases. Total erasure and rebirth." - the aquiline woman said gently.
His face was tight, with suppressed emotion, but he nodded.
"Will it keep 'em safe? Long term?" - quietly.
She bit her lip.
"Maybe. Depending on how much of a footprint you already left. I do not think it's big enough yet. You can still detach. And I'm sure your friends in the Sons, know the value of keeping secrets. His mistake was - well. Trying to return to his old life, as if nothing happened. He should have changed his identity, and disassociated. But he did strike me as more then a little naive." - she paused.
"I'm just glad they didn't see the need to make a clean sweep. Probably did not consider him enough of a threat. Just an inconvenience. Or wanted to make it look like a targeted assassination."
"Not the case with me, right?" - Irwine chuckled, almost reflexively.
"Oh no! No, you stopped being an inconvenience, the moment your connections escalated from a local North American terrorist group, to the Collective, with it's global reach. You are very much a threat to them. And they will categorise you accordingly." - she smirked.
"I'm flattered." - the gallows humour was there, mixed with resignation.
"So now we're moonlighting as hitmen for the Russian mob? Just to sell the pretence and prop up a figure for the Collective to install where they need 'em, in the government? You know, back when I still believed in the 'good guys bad guys' bullshit, I used to think being a Marine stood for something. I used to think I was fighting the good fight. Now I wonder if there's even a 'good fight' to be fought anymore. I'm just a glorified assassin. Is Janus and the Collective just the lesser of two evils? I... I promised you, when I made my sales-pitch to get you to join up, that it would be different! That the Collective was different. Feels like I broke that promise, Yelena."
The woman shook her head, squeezing his hand affectionately.
"They are different, Irwine. Very different. Case in point – they gave me my freedom, as promised. Black Mantis! The kill-phrase, gone. I can scream those two words to my heart's content, and they do nothing! Truth be told, I half-expected them to renege on that deal. They didn't. They do what they have to do, to stay one step ahead of the global hegaemony that the Illuminati control. That means taking shortcuts and working with organisations like the Bratva. Or those Cartel thugs, over in Panama. Freedom fighters in South Africa... your own outfit, the New Sons of Freedom... Anyone who isn't afraid to break the rules. And the list of entities like that gets shorter, every year. We cannot pick and choose our allies. For the moment, anyway." - she absently fondled her Ouroboros bracelet.
"There is no good guys and bad guys. There are simply people momentarily on our side, and people who are not."
Irwine nodded.
"And that can change in a heartbeat."
"In a heartbeat." - she echoed.
He glanced at her, his gaze falling to the pendant around her neck.
"You know... I noticed you - stopped praying, lately. Ever since we moved in here. Are you doubting it makes a difference, for your soul, or... ?" - he trailed off, expectantly.
"I'm not sure what to pray for, anymore. I do not think my soul is at stake, any longer. And praying for the lives we still have to take, seems sanctimonious. We are fighting a war on many fronts, and we do what is necessary. And I am tired of feeling guilty for the things past I cannot undo. Best to move on." - she shrugged.
"What about for your family, Yelena? For their eternal peace?" - he inquired softly, pulling her in for a kiss.
She glared, stopping him.
"That is not a function of God! That is a function of my duty to avenge them. They will have peace, when I account for all those responsible. Not before! Nor will I." - adamantly.
Irwine sighed. However long it has been - it seemed that her mindset on that subject was... fixed. And by now, he knew that arguing the point would get him nowhere.
"Then how about praying for his family? Who saw their father and husband murdered in front of them? For all the other families ruined, by this... war? For my own, who will never get to see me again? I don't know about you, but I could use some divine guidance right about now." - he insisted.
Yelena felt a bit... guilty... for being so selfish. She offered him an apologetic smile.
"We can do that, yes." - sweetly.
The two rose from the sofa, moving out of the living room, to a small sconce in the lobby, which was the new home for the small altar to St. Sarov. Gently, she took the pendant from around her neck, cupping it in her hands, before she began.
Hong Kong, Versalife building, deep beneath the surface, a secret compound...
A tall, strongly-built, scowling man was standing below a massive sculpture of the Earth, with a shadowy, menacing hand hovering over it. The tall, vaulted ceiling was reminiscent of a modern-styled cathedral, and the reflections off the red marble floor were giving the entire chamber a foreboding aspect.
"Mr. Page? We may have a lead. As per instructions, we've intercepted and rerouted the majority of Geneva-based transmissions, especially those flagged above Angel-0A level clearance, regarding the second plane's destination. The Council does not suspect anything, and they're receiving the falsified data on the sightings in Panama." - a young tech approached the man, handing him a pocket secretary.
Page nodded, studying the device.
"Good. Make certain the switchover is made without using any of our own satellites. DeBeers is too clever for his own good, and I don't plan on underestimating him again. Now... have these images been confirmed?" - his gaze fixed on the fuzzy image of a tall, impossibly-graceful looking, aquiline-faced woman dressed in a tight black tank top and bell-cut jeans, walking down the busy street with sinuous grace. It was taken from a long distance, and only digital enhancement allowed them to see as much as they did.
"Impossible to be certain, given the amount of scrubbing and enhancement we had to do, to sharpen and zoom-in the footage. But probability-range puts it within 75%." - the tech reported. Page nodded.
"Miss Yelena Fedorova. Subject 02, of the Triaxis batch, to become the foundation of the Tyrants. How fitting, that one of Lucius's pet projects is now the one causing this much trouble for us. Correlation?" - he asked sharply.
"We have a team in the city, making inquiries about her activities there. So far, our local government contacts have confirmed the sighting, as well as her potential meeting with a pair of other renegade operatives. Possibly connected with Juggernaut Collective operations in the country."
The man nodded. Not surprisingly, given where Audra was, when the team found her. The ease of penetration made him believe that the Collective was planning on using her as a lead, in case she was rescued. Her cancellation put a stop to that, but the bitter taste in his mouth remained. They were unable to retrieve the stolen research. And having Audra killed... was not his choice. DeBeers forced his hand. And for that, Bob Page promised himself he would make the arrogant, pretentious Prima Illuminatus pay, the ultimate price.
A bid for power was always the endgame. But recent events had simply accelerated the process. By how much – Page was undecided on. They were not ready yet. Not by a longshot. At least – not directly...
His face showed a trace of a smirk.
"Continue the investigation. I want to know where our rogue little bird went, following Panama. And I want a full psychological profile that was done on her, during initial – induction, sent to my office for review. As I recall, Lucius was particularily interested in individuals with a documented history of emotional volatility and problematic behavioural patterns, to use as a baseline for... alteration. And given that transmission she made, following her cancellation of Jaron Namir's family in London – I believe she may very well be interested in making certain people pay, for the death of her family." - he paused, his smirk turning more substantial, and turning vicious.
"We simply need to direct her ire accordingly, with some judiciously provided intel. And since she is a rogue now, any actions she takes will not be able to be connected to us. If anything, since she was a product of the Council's own initiative, it will reflect badly on Lucius himself. And his backers on the council." - he rubbed his large hands.
"In essence, you wish to offer her a job?!" - the tech asked incredulously, out of place. A sharp look from the larger man made him lower his head.
"Dismissed." - he snapped. With a bow, the tech made a hasty retreat, as Page resumed staring at the video-wall in front of him, hands now clasped behind his back.
"Yes." - he murmured to himself, the smirk returning to his face. The beautiful irony of it was delicious to contemplate.
DeBeers had been a thorn in his side for a long time now. And his... heavy-handed approach to the issue of Audra Chow, finally made the man actively despise him. And now, a rogue operative from one of DeBeers's own little ill-conceived escapades had surfaced, possibly working with the Juggernaut Collective, actively undermining the grand plan.
Not only would this humiliate Lucius DeBeers, in the eyes of the Council... possibly even threaten his leadership... but certainly make his position correspondingly weaker... but the woman herself could be - manipulated - into becoming a de-facto assassin for Majestic 12. Without it ever becoming evident, to anyone on the Council. And certainly without any inkling of his own involvement.
The universe has a way of correcting itself.
The man thought, recalling a phrase attributed to Adam Weishaupt himself, one of the founders of the Illuminati. Rarely did that statement seem more applicable, then at this moment.