theprobabilityengine-blog

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

015%

Whatever the warehouse had been originally it had been remodelled so extensively it could no longer serve its original purpose. As he’d noted previously, the entrance to the warehouse was the one corridor that ended in a T-junction, what David was just learning was that the branches of the junction weren’t that long, they turned again a couple of metres down creating what he could only assume were parallel corridors. Although maybe they did meet up somewhere towards the back of the warehouse.

At any rate, he knew that the right-hand corridor led to the loading bay he’d observed when they were scoping the place out. Since it appeared to see the most traffic security would probably tighter that way so they decided to head to the left first.

In the left-hand corridor was five doors, one on the left and three on the right with one more at the end. The door at the end had another electronic lock on it, at least this one seemed to not include a tumbler. The chances the same code they’d used to get in would were here was slim at best. So, left with four possible doors to choose from the question on both their minds was which did they try first?

“What do you think?” Kat whispered.

“I don’t know…” David considered the doors. He was about to try to puzzle out which door was the most suspicious when the doorknob of the second door on the right started moving.

Before David could even think to react Kat grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the nearest door. The first one on their right. Unsteady on his feet after being almost thrown into this room David staggered forwards and would have likely collapsed onto the floor if he hadn’t hit a shelf piled with boxes. While the shelf did rattle a little David’s weight wasn’t enough to cause anything to come falling down.

Letting out a relieved sigh David turned around. They were in a storage closet by the looks of it. It was a small 2x3m room which seemed even smaller with the large metal shelves lining the walls filled with unmarked boxes. The only illumination in the room was from a single, naked bulb that dangled from the ceiling. Kat was pressed up against the door. It was cracked open ever so slightly and she was listening intently to whatever was happening outside.

Moving up beside her David listened in too, however the voice was speaking a language he didn’t recognise. Perhaps it was Russian? Although it might have been Swedish or Polish as well for all he knew. When Kat glanced at him, her eyes asking if he could translate, David just shook his head in reply. They heard the voice grow fainter then there was a beeping sound, probably someone using electronic lock David had noted earlier, then the sound of a door opening and closing followed by silence.

They remained tense, wary that these people could come back at any time or a new group could show up. After a few minutes during which all was quiet they finally allowed themselves to relax. David drained from the ordeal, staggered backwards and sat down on an empty space in the shelves that lined the walls. “Bloody hell, this is exhausting,” he exclaimed.

“I know what you mean. I almost wish I was back watching that freaking lab. At least then I didn’t have to worry about being found,” Kat wiped the perspiration beading her forehead with her sleeve.

David took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath before we head back out…”

Kat nodded and then sighed, “Think they were the team sent to check on the kids?”

He shook his head, “Can’t tell. Even if they were, we have no idea if they were going to do it or coming back from… Still, once we’re done here we should probably take a quick peek and so what’s in there…”

Kat nodded then sat in silence for a while. Then, “I noticed something…” Kat said looking up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“There are no cameras here… like anywhere here not just this room,” she clarified.

David frowned. He hadn’t paid attention to that so he had to take her word for it. It made sense though, if they were caught on camera they should have been captured already. “Are they just lax with security? No… probably not. More likely whatever they do here or the people involved can’t be caught on camera.” His knowledge of computers and cameras were rather lacking, however David felt he knew enough to say that no system was entirely impenetrable. They were probably worried about whatever recordings they made being leaked. “Anyway let’s get going.”

The pair went back out into the corridor after making sure it was empty. Then following the plan, Kat went down to the next door and… flung it wide open.

“Idiot!” David hissed, shutting his eyes and preparing himself for the sound pf startled voices or sudden gunfire. However, nothing happened. In that case this wasn’t the enemies centre of operations…

Opening his eyes just a crack he saw Kat standing in the doorway. Judging from the crestfallen look on her face, the kidnapped children weren’t inside either. Elbowing her out of the way David stepped inside. The room was long and thin. One wall, the wall on his left was made almost entirely of darkened glass. Several control panels and computer screens were installed inside. “This seems like an observation room… One of these things might make the glass transparent.”

Struck with a sudden premonition he turned to Kat and ordered her, “Don’t touch anything!” Kat, who had been about to fiddle with one of the control panels complied, lowering her outstretched hand, an irate expression on her face.

Satisfied his warning had gotten across David went back to looking around the room. He didn’t know what anything in the room did so he wasn’t going to risk playing with any of the controls. There was a binder that seemed to have been tossed casually on top of one of them. Moving towards it he gingerly picked it up, taking care he didn’t accidentally hit anything. Then he retreated, taking a couple of steps back, before he opened the binder to read what was inside.

At the top of the page it read “SUBJECT 1” following that was a list of traits such as gender, age, height, weight and blood group. At the bottom of the page was written “0.3%” in a red pen.

“What is it?” Kat asked coming closer.

“It seems to be information on the test subjects and some kind of statistic… don’t know what for though.”

“Is it the kids?” she asked excitedly.

“This would go a lot faster if you didn’t interrupt me every two seconds, and no, this person was in their thirties.” Sulking silently at being berated, David continued reading, flipping through the pages at speed as he absorbed the information on each one.

None of the subjects appeared to be children for some reason… Subject 2 was in their thirties just like Subject 1. Subject 3 was seventy. Subject 4 twenty-six. The percentages on the bottom of each sheet bothered him. They changed with no apparent rhyme or reason but never went over 5%. He could find no correlation between the percentages and the information recorded on the sheets.

Eventually though he came across something pertinent to Kat’s investigation.

Subject 31. Male. 12.

“I found one,” he told her holding the binder out so she could see.

Kat frowned. “So there were 30 victims before the first child… Are the just grabbing anyone? Not just children?”

Flicking through the rest of the pages David filed everything he read away inside his head then closed his eyes. Processing the information. “No… By the looks of it they were at first but whatever results they wanted they weren’t getting. Then their 31st subject just happened to be a child and the results became substantially better.” The percentage at the bottom of Subject 31’s page had been 84% a huge increase from anything that had come before.

“From there they started narrowing their focus. By subject 54 they appeared to find an appropriate age range, children between 6 and for females 17 and for males 20. Then they’ve been continuing gathering data trying to find the next breakthrough to get the result they need.” The highest percentage written down had been 91.3%.

Kat gritted her teeth. “How many subjects?”

“82.” She let out a frustrated hiss at the answer. “Well there are 82 subjects written down in here but by the looks of it only 81 have been used in whatever experiment they’re running.”

Kat was seething. It was clear she wanted to smash something but she contained the impulse. “Let’s try the next room,” she snarled before stomping outside. David considered the binder in his hands one last time before placing it down and following his companion.

She was looking around trying to decide which door to open next. David poked her in the back and nodded towards the door last door on the right-hand wall. “That was an observation room, whatever they were observing happens through there. Probably.”

“Right.” Walking over to the door she opened it and she stopped moving again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, imagining he was going to have to go through this every single time they opened a door he strode past her and into the room.

Then he saw what was inside and he froze. He blinked. He shook his head. Then he stared.

“What in the…” David murmured, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

014%

The warehouse that Mars Company was based in was quite a distance away. David took a taxi cab to pick up Kat, and then pretty much had the driver go back the entire way and then some. When they arrived, David was down close to 50£. After paying the driver the pair had decided to scout the area. There was almost nothing around, the warehouse itself sat in a small valley created by the soft rises of hills all around it. There was a dirt road leading to a loading area that was locked up tight. Despite looking dilapidated and abandoned the numerous tire tracks in the dirt around the building showed that it was being regularly used.

“Think anyone’s home?” Kat asked.

“As soon as I unlock my latent psychic powers, I’ll let you know,” David replied, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Are you in a bad mood?”

“Not at all. I love being covered in dirt.”

Just before they’d arrived, so they could approach the warehouse undetected Kat had pushed David into a ditch and kicked a thick cloud of dirt on him. She hadn’t done anything similar to herself, stating simply that since her clothes and skin were already stained by a layer of mud, dirt and unidentifiable stains it would be unnecessary.

After a couple of seconds Kat asked, “… Was that sarcasm?”

“Yes, it was!” David snapped at her.

“It’s just hard to tell. You don’t emote enough. It’s like usual you is this…” she pulled a serious, glum face. “…and grumpy you is this,” her face twitched but there was no noticeable difference between the two expressions.

His temper running thin David was about to retort when he noticed Kat’s expression. She was trying to appear jokey like normal but deep in her eyes was not quite fear… maybe it was apprehension. As usual the nuances of human expressions was foreign to him but he knew enough to realise that the girl was not herself.

He looked back at the warehouse. If their information was right, somewhere in there were the members of Kat’s band of waifs. As the man called Angel had attempted to point out, the chances of them all being alive at this point was slim. For all they knew this might just be a home for mercenaries and the kids were somewhere else entirely. The boy surmised that this uncertainty may be the cause for his companion’s odd mood.

“… Listen… Kat… I think we should talk about what we could-” David began saying trying his best to be tactful.

He was cut off though by the girl beside him though. “Don’t say another word. If you do I’ll break your legs and leave you here to rot.”

He gulped. While he doubted she would actually do it there was still a little voice warning him that she might. After all she had almost suffocated him.

“Fine…” he eventually said.

“Yeah. Fine.”

They stared silently at the warehouse for a while, David unsure of the protocol for moving a conversation along after what basically amounted to a death threat and Kat lost in her own musings. Eventually though he found the silence to be as suffocating as her arm on his throat so he asked meekly, “What now?”

“We break in,” Kat replied.

“Ah, right… How?”

“…”

Remembering the last time they’d had this conversation when sneaking into his Grandfather’s lab David warned her, “I don’t think walking through the front door and pretending to be a couple will work this time.”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.” He obeyed immediately.

This espionage stuff wasn’t his forte. Now that he thought of it, why had he come? He wasn’t athletic. He couldn’t fight. He wasn’t good at thinking on his feet. All he was good at was learning and analysing. Basically, wasn’t David being here a huge waste of time? Then again he did have something he wanted to investigate, something he couldn’t leave up to the girl beside him. Perhaps that selfish reason wasn’t enough for him to stay but that wouldn’t stop him. Not where daddy dearest was involved…

“Alright. I have an idea!” Kat declared suddenly. “We will sneak down and go in through the front door.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “… I think this just the couple plan again? Or, what? We’re going to be door to warehouse door salesmen this time.”

“We’ll sneak in.”

“And they will shoot us or capture us or maybe both. On second thoughts I think this is even worse than the couple plan. At least it didn’t end with our brain matter splattered across a warehouse wall.”

“It will work. They won’t be expecting people to just walk in through the front door,” Kat nodded sagely.

“Whatever happened to sneaking?” David let out another sigh. A common saying was that when you sighed you chased away your happiness. If so David had probably chased his off the planet by now. “Just a reminder, if they do expect people to ‘just walk in through the front door’ we’ll be dead in a second.”

Kat froze. After further thought she replied, “Well do you have a better idea?”

It was David’s turn to freeze. He didn’t have a better idea. In fact he had no idea. Even if he tried to formulate an idea now it probably would make about as much sense as going in through the front door. Picturing his inevitable death, he agreed by saying, “Objection retracted.”

They waited for a little more and then on Kat’s queue they stood up and ran down the hill. While she was quick and lithe keeping close to the ground like a predator, David couldn’t have been called stealthy, bumbling forwards with all the grace of drugged giraffe.

When they reached the door Kat began examining it while David knelt down trying to get air into his lungs. He hadn’t run more than twenty metres but that had been enough to make him short of breath. “I really… need to… exercise more…”

“I’ll say. What part of that was supposed to be stealthy?” Kat muttered as she pulled a pair of bobby pins out of her coat and began picking the door’s lock. After a few seconds, she cursed. “Damn it! What the hell!?”

“What’s the problem?” David asked.

She pointed at the lock on the door. Rather than the traditional pin tumbler lock, it was a combination electronic and pin tumbler lock. There was a digital display with room to input four numbers, below that a keypad and finally at the bottom the keyway. Unlike the rest of the building this lock was shiny and new.

“Making it one or the other would be too bloody easy wouldn’t it,” she spat. She stepped back from the door a bit. Then she spun on her heel and kicked out, delivering a solid blow to the door.

David figuratively leapt out of his skin. “Are you out of your mind!” he hissed. “What happened to stealthy?” Kat wasn’t listening to him though, she walked off grumbling and swearing. He called out after her, “Hey, where are you going?”

“To find another entrance!” she shouted back.

Holding in the sigh trying to escape him, David turned back to face the door. From the way she was acting, clearly just picking the pin tumbler lock wasn’t going to get the job done. They’d need to crack the keycode to get in. Something was off though…

Confirming that the digital display was off, David reached forward and gave the keypad a poke. However nothing happened. “Hmm…” He shut his eyes. According to his grandfather the only problems that didn’t have a solution were ones designed to trick people. Assuming this lock wasn’t a trick then there had to be a way to open it. “If you can’t solve a problem think about it in reverse. Look at your facts. Collect assumptions. Analyse then theorise. That’s the trick to solving any problem,” he said quoting his grandfather.  

‘Problem: Keeping people out of a facility,’ David thought, his brain running into high gear.

“Facts: Combination electronic and tumbler lock. Tumbler lock will not turn. Keypad unresponsive.”

‘Assumptions: Electronic look is working as intended. Electronic and tumbler lock linked in some manner. Kat can actually pick locks.’

“Possibility: Scans fingerprints?”

‘Viability... improbable. There is no sign some kind of scanner.’

“Possibility: The digital display lights up when the correct code has been entered.”

‘Viability… implausible. Ease of use poor.’

“Possibility: Electronic lock is not receiving power.”

‘Viability… high. Problem: How is the lock supplied power?’

“… The key.”

‘… Most likely answer.’

“Therefore…”

“What are you doing?” asked Kat. David leapt to attention. He’d been focusing so much he hadn’t noticed her approaching.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I, uh… Think I know how the lock works. Basically, unlocking the door is a three-step process. Step 1: You insert the key. This completes a circuit supplying power to the electronic lock. Step 2: Without removing the key, enter the correct code. This will deactivate some kind of mechanism preventing the key from being turned. Step 3: Turn the key, unlocking the door and entering.”

Kat nodded, listening to his explanation. When he finished she asked, “So? What’s the code?”

“I’m still figuring that out. Give me a minute…”

He turned back to the lock and focused on the keypad. This electronic lock was laid out like mobile phone number pad with 1 in the top left corner, 9 at the bottom right and below 9 in a row all its own, the number 0. As he’d noted before the digital screen only had room for four digits.

Locks like these were essentially a math problem. You have four slots, each slot must be filled with a number and in total you have ten numbers, it was possible for numbers to be repeated. If each space can be filled with one of ten numbers, then there were 10x10x10x10 or 10,000 possible combination of numbers. Since there was only one correct answer your odds of getting the combination right is 1/10000.

One solution to the problem would be to brute force it, entering every possible combination until he hit the right answer. If he was unlucky though the last combination, he tried would be the correct one meaning he’d have to enter all 10,000 combinations. That would clearly take too long. So, he had to narrow down his choices.

The easiest way to do that would be wear. The oils in a person’s finger would polish buttons when they were pressed, the more the button was pressed or the earlier it was in the combination the shinier the button would be. Due to the lock being new it was hard to tell unless you were looking closely but the 2 was the slightest bit shinier then the rest of the buttons. The code probably started with 2. That was about all he could discern examining the lock. At least he’d narrowed down his choices considerably, from 10,000 to 1,000.

Next, people usually used easily remembered numbers for their passwords. He had to hope his father had set the code on the lock and not anyone else. What were the easiest four digit numbers to remember? PIN codes, post codes and dates, a memorable or important one.

“Important dates…” David muttered. Fortunately, there were not many important dates his father may have used as a code that began with 2. In fact he could only think of three.

He grit his teeth as he started to get a headache. He wasn’t thinking that hard was he or was this just his chronic headache choosing now to flare up? He hadn’t thought to bring his headache tablets with him today so he had to push through it.

Three dates. Which was the most likely? Two of them he was sure he could write off; they were the day he was born and the day his mother died.

He flinched at the sudden lance of pain that went through him. This headache was one of the worst he’d had…

“He wouldn’t use those,” David said. To his father both those days were probably the last thing he wanted to think about it. That left only one more option.

“I have the code,” he declared. “We can unlock it now.”

“I’m doubtful but fine, let’s give it a whirl. Taking out her pins again she set to work on the lock. When the digital display lit up David leaned over her and entered 2-4-0-9 on the keypad. The digital display flashed green and Kat turned the lock and opened the door.

Pushing down the pain he moved to enter the final date, the day his mother was born. 2-4-0-9.

Kat stood up dusted herself off. Then, overflowing with pride she said, “Wow, I’m a genius. I knew there was a reason I brought you along.”

“Just get in would you,” David growled. By this point he knew better then to take her seriously. Kat shrugged and cautiously pushed the door open, slipping through it when she could just fit through. David followed close behind her.

Inside was a long empty corridor, it wasn’t just long though but also wide. The nearly 190cm tall boy estimated it would take him six steps to get from one side of the corridor to the other. The floor was a solid concrete slab while the roof, also concrete was domed joining seamlessly with the walls, he felt like he was standing in a concrete half-cylinder. Along the walls every couple of paces were metal beams, acting as buttresses. Apart from that though the corridor was empty.

Kat had already gone ahead, she was standing near the end of the corridor. She appeared to be peeking furtively around a corner. Although from David’s perspective it just looked like she was pressed up against the wall admiring the other end of the half-cylinder. As David was about to call out and ask her what she saw, she hurried back a terrified look on her face.

“No questions. Wrap this around yourself and then hide,” she ordered throwing her coat at him.

“Why? What’s-”  David started to say but Kat snapped at him.

“Shut up and get in that corner!” she pointed at the darkest spot in the corridor, the corner beside the door that just entered through.

Before he could attempt to ask her anything else Kat ran over to one of the buttresses and began climbing it. When she was hanging from the ceiling she pulled herself over and lay flat in the lip of the metal beam. If someone was walking down the corridor towards the exist as long as they didn’t look back she’d be invisible.

Realising with a start what was going on David ran to the corner Kat had indicated. Curling up and making himself as small as possible he wrapped the coat around himself, hoping it would work as camouflage. His heart was thudding in his ears and he thought his breathing was loud. When he heard the sound of people talking both those noises disappeared.

Whoever was coming, they were wearing heavy boots, the thudding as their soles hit the floor replacing the sound of David’s frozen heart. There appeared to be two people talking but they weren’t speaking English. In fact they were speaking different languages. The two speakers were male but despite hearing two voices speaking and two sets of footsteps only one of the people talking was actually there. The one there was talking in French which David knew pretty well. The other, which appeared to be emanating from some kind of walkie talkie spoke in German. David only knew bits and pieces of German but he could tell that the two people speaking different languages understood each other.

The two voices got closer and pushing down the fear that he would hear shouts of alarm or feel a hand coming down on his shoulder, he listened intently to the conversation. He translated what he could and made educated guesses to the bits he couldn’t understand. Before he knew it the voices were coming from right beside him.

Then the door was opened, light from outside spilled in but hidden behind the now open doorway it didn’t illuminate David. The two people went outside and the door swung shut.

David remained frozen for a while but when he heard the soft thump of Kat dropping to the ground he let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and his heart began beating again. He stood up and turned to Kat. Without her bulky coat on she looked a lot slimmer. He could see her small chest rising and falling, the exertion of climbing the buttress had left her short of breath.

David took off her coat and handed it to her. Whipping it back on she smiled. Not a friendly smile but the feral smile of a cat that had found its prey. “Well we’re in the right place. I recognised one of them, he was the guy I kicked in the nuts back when they tried to take me.” He decided to ignore the note of satisfaction in her voice as she remembered that event. “Man, though, I can’t tell if we were lucky or unlucky. If we’d been out there even one more minute those guys would have run right into us.”

“It wasn’t luck, they wouldn’t have come,” David corrected her absentmindedly still busy translating what he’d heard in his head.

“Huh?”

“By the sounds of it there was some kind of device on the door that alerts a control room whenever the door is opened. Since the door opened those to came to investigate who had entered.”

Coming back to himself David noticed Kat staring at him in shock, “You understood that?”

David gave a noncommittal grunt. “I understood the French pretty well but the German was a lot of guesswork.”

“What did they say?” Kat demanded.

David closed his eyes and replayed the conversation in his head before translating, “The one who was actually here was saying… That he couldn’t see anyone. Then… the one on the radio, the one speaking German said… It might have been break out not a break in. The French one questioned if it was possible for the guineas to break out, but he said that they… what did they call themselves… Right, Charlie Team. They said they would go outside and look for any signs of the runaway. Then the German guy said, he’d send another group to check if… the rats were still in their cages?”

A hopeful light glimmered in Kat’s eyes. “You don’t mean…”

David nodded, “I think your family might be here.”

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

013% - Part: 3

Returning to the Fiero manor on Tuesday, Hayter was shown into a room on the third floor. It appeared to be a meeting room. The way it was set up reminded him of the room he had been taken to after his fight with Lucius. A large desk dominated half the room, a chair set behind it, in front of the desk were a couple of armchairs and a sofa with a squat table between them. Rather than sitting in one of the softer chairs around the table, Lucius, the room’s sole occupant sat on a hard-wooden chair off to one side.

“Just you?” Hayter asked skipping pleasantries.

“Good evening,” Lucius said first before replying sarcastically, “I thought that would be apparent.” Hayter shot him a dirty look and Lucius laughed pleasantly. “Apologies. I’m afraid that our boss is running a little late. If you’d care to have a seat I can send for refreshments while we wait.”

“I’ll pass on the refreshments.”

Hayter sat down on the sofa. He had to, to face Lucius who was sitting on the other side of the room. There was a mirror in one of corner of the room and Hayter surreptitiously checked his appearance in it. He had tided himself up some since his last visit to the manor, despite the fact he was wearing the same suit. He’d gotten a haircut; his hair now shoulder length hung freely around him he had shaved as well but there was already stubble forming along his jaw line. He looked older without his beard. The wrinkles around his mouth seemed more pronounced and the scars on his face stood out in sharp contrast to his sun kissed skin.

“While I admit your previous look was rather dashing, I assure you there is nothing wrong with your current appearance,” Lucius said suddenly. Hayter turned to face the front, an annoyed look on his face when he realised he’d been caught. Lucius smirked and asked, “May I ask why the change? If you did it for us then I’m afraid the effort was wasted.”

Hayter shrugged. “I’d been planning to tidy myself up a bit for a while now. Just seemed like a good time.”

The conversation died off there, the two men sat in silence for a while. Lucius smiling pleasantly while Hayter ignored him choosing instead to gaze out the window at the slowly darkening sky. About five minutes after Hayter arrived, there was a sharp beeping noise. Fishing his phone out of his pocket Lucius took a brief look at the cell before saying, “It looks like they’ve arrived. I imagine the boss will be along-”

He was cut off by the door flying open and a shape ran across the room. Hayter snapped into action his hand automatically going for his sidearm but clasping nothing but air. Lucius barely reacted as the shape leapt onto him and started rubbing against him.

“Lucy! Did you miss me? I missed you! But the sharp ache of our parting has made this reunion so much sweeter!” cried out the girl snuggling against the older man.

“Wah!?” Hayter gasped unintelligibly. The girl, now attempting to kiss Lucius who was stubbornly dodging the attack was young. Really young. She had to be about twelve or something. Whatever her age she was certainly younger than Kat.

The girl turned to look at him noticing his presence for the first time. “Don’t you know it’s rude to watch the passionate greetings of two lovers,” the girl told him imperiously.

Hayter looked between the man in his early twenties and the pre-teen girl and said more intelligibly this time, “What!?”

The girl was wearing a winter coat, her legs, clad in thick stocking emerged from underneath the coat. She had blonde hair tied up in pigtails the hung on either side of her head and she had deep blue eyes. She was cute, but in the way a small animal was. The idea anyone old enough to drink alcohol could hold romantic feelings for this creature was absurd, not to mention completely illegal.

“Who is this anyway?” the girl asked turning back to Lucius.

The man who until this point had been stoically weathering the affectionate storm that had suddenly attacked him let out a sigh. “I believe I mentioned that we would be hosting a party interested in doing business with the Family. Some professionalism is required here so if you would be so kind as to stop this embarrassing display…”

The girl pouted but she leapt down from Lucius’s lap and headed towards the door. “Fine. Whatever.” However, when she reached the door she did turn around and give Lucius a provocative wink. “I’ll see you soon!” she called before exiting.

After the door had clicked close behind the girl Hayter all but collapsed onto the sofa, suddenly exhausted. “I feel like I should be calling the police,” he muttered.

Lucius let out a disapproving sniff. “I assure you, no matter what feelings the young miss holds for me are entirely one sided.” Then he added, “Besides I’m not interested in women.”

‘That wasn’t exactly a woman,’ Hayter thought. Still, he understood what Lucius meant and he wasn’t here to discuss the other man’s private life anyway. So long as it didn’t come to affect the Royal Bleeders, Hayter could not give a damn.

After another minute or so there was a sharp knock at the door. Before it could be answered the door was swung open as the leader of the Fiero Family strolled in. Lucius stood up and said, “Allow me to introduce the boss of our Family…”

A small figure strode across the room and sat down in one of the chairs facing Hayter. Her long hair was done up in a ponytail, she was wearing a white blouse under a black vest, a pair of heavy boots went about halfway up her shins, from their thick stockings covered the rest of her legs meeting a pair of short shorts.

“Ceres Fiero,” the young girl who had just exited the room finished for Lucius, putting her feet up on the table and giving a dry smirk.

 For a few seconds Hayter was so dumbfounded that his brain seemed to grind to a halt. When it started up again his first thought was, “Is this actually the same girl?”

Compared to the demanding little princess that had stormed through before the girl there now was cool and confident, if a little self-important. However, from the shape of her face, the length of her blonde hair and the colour of her eyes this was clearly the same person.

Then he wondered if this was a joke, but for once Lucius didn’t have his ever-present smile. Hayter wasn’t going to just blindly accept this nonsense, whatever the case.

“Is this… really your leader?” he asked Lucius, glancing suspiciously at the girl.

“Whattaya mean ‘this?’” the young girl cried indignantly.

Stifling a laugh behind a cough, his smile returning Lucius replied, “I assure you, the young lady is our leader.” Hayter looked back at the girl still trying to wrap his mind around this. “An explanation is in order I think.” Turning to the girl, Ceres, he asked, “May I?”

“Fine, just hurry it up,” she said sullenly drooping lazily in the chair she occupied.

Lucius shrugged, apparently unconcerned by his leader’s apathy and began speaking.

“I believe I mentioned before that our family finds itself in some unique circumstances,” he began. “Well having the young lady as our leader could be considered the culmination of these circumstances. Tell me, how much do you know about the criminal society in the New York area?”

“Not much. I know it’s mostly controlled either directly or indirectly by the Five Families. I know that you aren’t aligned with any of the families but that’s about it.”

“That makes things easier.”

Lucius closed his eyes and gathered his thought before he began telling his story, “While our family has always been small, at one point in the past we had amassed enough power that we could rival any one of the Five Families. The Five Families did not appreciate a bunch of young upstarts having this sort of power and they began interfering. It was small things at first, we had police badgering us more often, a dealer might suddenly start selling us goods that were of a poorer quality than usual, things like that.”

“Our boss at the time, the young lady’s father, wasn’t going to take this lying down and began acquiring power more aggressively.” Lucius sighed, “At the time it seemed the natural thing to do but that was probably the tipping point. Before we knew it things had escalated into a full scale war.”

“It didn’t last long fortunately, but unfortunately it was not because we were able to cow the Families. A little over five years ago, our boss and his wife were gunned down along with most of the executives. The family was thrown into chaos and the Five Families began to dismantle our operations, taking them over or outright destroying them.”

“Only a few of the older executives and some young up-and-comers were left alive, I was one of them… We tried to rebuild our organisation, however no one could agree on who should be the next head of the family. I won’t bore you with the details but eventually in a majority vote a new leader was chosen. This leader was stuck in the old ways, he was unimaginative and did things by the book which only helped the Five Families to tear us apart further.”

“That was when Miss Ceres stepped forward, she was only eight years old then but she’d been watching her father work for her whole life. She was one of the candidates to become the next leader but due to her young age she had been unable to secure the votes to take the role. However, she quickly turned things around with her ideas, we were still barely standing but we were no longer losing assets. In a unanimous decision, everyone decided to turn leadership over to her.”

“At this point many of us thought the young lady would help us regain what we’d lost and strike back at the Families. Instead she decided that since our illegitimate business was being stymied we had to become legitimate. The young lady hadn’t just grown up watching her father. The late Missus Fiero was often called the Boardroom Devil and Miss Ceres had inherited her business savvy.”

“She knew some people who were looking to try to open a business creating and selling custom programs for Macintosh computers, they just needed capital. She invested in them and… well her mother wasn’t called the Boardroom Devil because she was nice. Miss Ceres bought out the company and since then she has been carefully raising it into the technological empire it is today.”

Lucius kept talking about some of the accomplishments and advances Ceres Fiero’s company had made since she took over it as CEO but Hayter had stopped listening. He was irritated. The Royal Bleeders, no, Brenton’s dream didn’t need some tech companies support, they needed to foster relationships in the underbelly of society. They needed to descend further into the wastes of polite society if they were to overturn it. In short, this was a complete… “…waste of time…” he growled.

Ceres sat up straight, an angry expression on her face. The young girl had apparently heard Hayter murmuring to himself. She pointed an accusatory finger at him and cried, “Hey, you, ummm…” She looked at Lucius for help.

“Hayter,” the man informed his charge.

“Hater,” for some reason Hayter felt she’d said his name wrong. “Don’t go getting the wrong idea here,” she said sharply. “We may have gone legitimate for the most part but if you think I’m gonna let those bastards who killed Mama and Papa get away with it you’re dead wrong. So long as I live and breathe the Fiero Family ain’t dead and you better not go disrespecting us, got it?”

“Ah, I apologise. My explanation was lacking,” Lucius bowed to Ceres.

“Nah, your explanation was perfect, Lucy. Just this guy is too impatient to actually listen.” She leaped onto the tea table even with the added height she was only half a head taller than the seated Hayter. “The Fiero Family is down but it ain’t out. We’re using my company to make capital. We’ll get enough power to rival a nation and then we’ll take back our turf. Then we’ll crush every single one of the Five Families so completely that they will never be able to recoup their losses and before long my family will rule not just New York but the whole Eastern Sea Board!” Ceres declared.

Hayter studied the girl. She was completely different from Brenton, not just physically but their goals were pretty much diametrically opposed. Brenton wanted a world without crime while this girl wanted to rule the criminal world. However, they were the same in that they were convinced they would succeed. Their belief in their convictions was dazzling.

Hayter smiled as he remembered the impassioned speech Brenton gave him in the hospital when they were just getting to know each other. If he’d met this girl then, instead of the English man, he might be standing beside her now… But that was just a what if and didn’t change the fact that he would help build his Boss’s ideal world. A world where this girls dream had no place.

“Alright. I’m sorry for writing you off,” Hayter apologised. Ceres accepted the apology and jumped down off the tea table and returned to her seat. Lucius came forward with a dust cloth pulled seemingly from thin air and wiped the table down as Hayter continued talking. “Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get down to business. I’m no good at negotiating so I’ll get straight to the point… We want you to sponsor us.”

“Sponsor?” Ceres asked glancing at Lucius. Lucius having finished wiping the table was returning to his seat, he shook his head indicating he didn’t know what Hayter meant.

Hayter felt himself getting flustered, had he said the wrong thing? ‘Seriously, why did Brenton send me to negotiate…?’ he thought sadly.

“M-Maybe sponsor was the wrong word. Umm…” he scratched at his neck. “Maybe… mentor? No that doesn’t seem right either…”

Seeing the former soldier working himself up Lucius decided to provide some aid. “Perhaps it would be easier if you outlined what your people are expecting to gain?” he suggested.

“Right,” Hayter took a breath, holding it he ran over everything Boss had told him before he exhaled and began speaking again. “The Royal Bleeders are currently trying to expand the range of our operations however we lack the knowledge, or rather the connections, to make that happen. We would need a regular flow of goods, drugs, firearms and the like, things we are unable to acquire readily by ourselves.”

“And we’re supposed to provide that?” Lucius asked.

Ceres let out a sigh, “You did hear the bit about us going legitimate, right? Even if it is temporary…”

“You shouldn’t have to step back into the underworld; I don’t think so at least,” neither member of the Fierro Family looked that convinced by Hayter’s hesitant statement. He rushed to continue speaking though, “I am sure you still have connections to people willing to sell to you, right? Introduce the Bleeders as an intermediary or a foreign partner or something, once we have a steady supply line set up you can step back and distance yourself from us.”

Lucius was rubbing his jaw thoughtfully but Ceres was looking disgusted. “Dude, you suck at negotiations. What are we supposed to get out of this little arrangement, huh? Sounds like your sticking us with a whole lot of nada.”

Hayter swallowed, this was where he had to be careful. He had been told the absolute maximum that the Royal Bleeders could offer but Brenton had essentially left it up to Hayter’s own discretion on how much of that maximum to use.

“We will help support you financially…”

“Oh?” Ceres leaned forward steepling her fingers.

“We can offer a twenty-five thousand dollar down payment plus thirty percent of profits from selling any goods acquired through your connections… for an amount of time.”

Ceres leaned back in her chair thinking and turned to Lucius. “What do you think?”

Lucius considered the question for a moment and then shook his head. “No.”

“Why?”

“There is no guarantee that they will provide the thirty percent. If we do as Hayter suggests and step back from things after setting up a supply line then they can send us whatever percentage they please, if at all. We would have no way of monitoring and verifying-”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Hayter growled.

“Your words are meaningless in this situation. From our perspective, everything you say could just be empty platitudes. Additionally, the carry on ‘for an amount of time’ is worrying. What is that supposed to mean exactly?”

“Until we feel that we have established ourselves firmly and are able to make it on our own.”

“You could decide you have ‘established’ yourselves after the first payment,” Lucius replied blithely. Returning his gaze to Ceres who was looking on amused, he finished, “I can’t recommend it, Miss.”

“If we agree, benefits are basically all financial and not in amounts we can’t easily make through the business…” Ceres thought out loud. She closed her eyes and hummed as she thought.

“Wh-What if you we set up some kind of contract!? Then if we don’t meet our end you could-”

Hayter was cut off by the little girl exploding into laughter. “Hahahahaha! Are you kidding me? You don’t really think we could seek legal recourse for illegal activities do you? Hahahaha!”

Hayter gritted his teeth. Getting mocked by a pre-teen girl was starting to annoy him but he had been told numerous times by not only Boss, but also Bluebird, James, Hare and a dozen others that he could not lose his temper. No matter what, flaring up was right out. Swallowing his anger, he tried to think.

At the moment the main problem was getting the Fiero Family to at least consider their offer. Everything else could come after that. Their complaint seemed to be mostly around a lack of trust.

“So… You want some kind of guarantee?” he asked darkly.

The girl just smiled impishly while her right-hand-man gave a shrug. Hayter felt a vein start pulsing in his forehead. He had to remind himself over and over like a mantra, ‘Do not lose your temper.’

Alright… maybe it wasn’t an issue of trust then… What else had they said? His eyes snapped open as he hit upon the answer. “If financial incentives aren’t enough what else could you want? It’s not resources…” Something else then. Something they could use now… He frowned as he reached a disconcerting conclusion, “Technology? You want me?”

“He’s smarter then he looks…” Ceres smirked.

“To be exact we don’t want you, we want your arms,” Lucius correct. “Those prosthetics are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. If I hadn’t seen the proof that they were fake I would never have believed they weren’t real.”

“These,” Hayter gestured to his arms, “don’t technically belong to me. I signed so many non-disclosure agreements when they were attached that I got cramps in my non-existent wrists.” Plus, if he understood even half the doctor had been talking about when he explained how they worked, the prosthetics were basically plugged into his nervous system so he couldn’t exactly hand them over.

The girl smiled, a dangerous light in her eyes, “You really think some N.D.A.’s would stop us?”

“No. But I don’t break my promises and that’s all N.D.A’s are in the end,” Hayter growled.

An unhealthy amount of bloodlust was filling the room but before it could reach breaking point Lucius clapped loudly and dispelled the tension by saying, “Alright, enough. Miss, if Hayter is against it so much I doubt there is much we can do to change his mind at this point.”

Ceres sighed, “Fine, whatever. Not like I really care.” She did pout and sink lower in her seat though.

“I guess negotiations fell through,” Hayter muttered.

“Not at all. Both parties have agreed that their opening offers are now off the table, so we must work to come to a compromise. That is the essence of negotiations,” Lucius told him with a wry smile.

It was Hayter’s turn to let out a sigh, “This seems like a hassle. Why did they have to send me?”

“I agree, you are far too honest to be a good negotiator,” Lucius nodded.

“Hey, hey! What about me?” Ceres asked Lucius.

“You are a born negotiator, Miss. I doubt there is any better at the art of the deal then you.”

Ceres looked proud and smug for a few seconds before she let out a strangled gasp. “Wait! Doesn’t that mean you think I’m dishonest!”

 They continued for a few hours going back and forth until Ceres had gotten fed up with going nowhere and declared she was for the night. Apologising over the abrupt end to events Lucius had called Hayter a taxi and then saw him off. They had exchanged contact information before Hayter left, Lucius saying, “Miss will be busy for the next few weeks, if we get an unexpected opening in her schedule, someone from the family will call you on this number with a time and place.”

Hayter then travelled back to his hotel and almost immediately collapsed into his bed as soon as he entered his room. “Feels like my brain is shorting out…” he complained. He thought about contacting Brenton to inform him of developments but then he remembered Boss’s phone had been smashed.

“Would he be at the office?” he tried to calculate the time difference but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Deciding to forget it for now he went to bed. Boss would call him Thursday morning when it was time for their regular check-in anyway. With that thought he lay down and drifted off to sleep.

 The next morning, Hayter was sipping a cup of coffee planning what he was going to do that day when the phone rang. If only he’d known what was coming he might have hesitated to answer.

“Hmm?” Reaching across the table he grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID. It was from the number he’d entered just last night. Did they have an opening already? Hayter had thought he would have to wait a couple of days. Still getting things down sooner rather than later was good for him so he hit answer. “Hello.”

“I won’t keep you long. I imagine you have a lot to do,” said Lucius from the other end of the line. He sounded off… something about his tone sounded strained or pressured. “I am afraid we won’t be doing business with you.”

Hayter shot to his feet, his cup fell to the floor smashing, the coffee spilling out and staining the carpet. “What!? I thought we were still negotiating!”

There was silence from the other end of the line for a while. Eventually a Lucius asked hesitantly, “Don’t tell me… you don’t know?”

“Know what?!” Hayter growled.

“Is there a TV near you right now?”

Hayter glanced at the flat screen, occupying a large portion of wall of his hotel room. He hadn’t used it once since arriving, televisions were distracting. He didn’t know what a television had to do with this though. “Yeah.”

“Check CNN.”

“What channel?” Hayter asked as he walked across the room, grabbed the remote and turned the television on.

“It should be two-oh-two.”

Changing to the correct channel Hayter stared at the screen. For a few seconds he was unable to comprehend what he was looking at, but then the phone and the remote slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground. He couldn’t accept it… but the longer he stared blankly at the screen uncomprehending the more the reality of the situation was cemented in his mind.

The lower-third graphic read, “TERROR ATTACK AVERTED IN UK.”

Standing front and centre was a woman with dyed blonde hair, and behind her was the wreck of a building. Hayter knew just from looking it had been blown up from the inside, the explosion originating from the second floor. He also knew the building well, even if it was half collapsed.

“…in part to intelligence acquired by the SIS, last night an anti-terror squad was mobilized to take down what we now know to be an insurgent group with ties to Al Qaeda. Things went badly when rather than being taken alive the group calling themselves ‘the Royal Bleeders’ chose to detonate the explosive stockpile they were planning to use in their upcoming terror attack. The death toll is still unconfirmed…”

“N-No…” Hayter’s legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. There was a ringing in his ears, his arms were aching. Looking around he found himself back in Afghanistan on that terrible day. Except this time instead of his squad mates he was looking at the corpses of his friends in the Royal Bleeders. “No!” With his cry the illusion shattered but he found himself drowning in darkness. He clawed at his throat or tried to but his arms weren’t moving. No, these weren’t his arms…

With a sad groan his thoughts ground to a halt, his heart stopped beating and Hayter sat like a marionette with its strings cut. Then he twitched, his heart beat and his mind woke up filled with just one thought. ‘…Kill.’

Looking up and glaring at the television his eyes filled with murderous rage he gripped the phone he’d dropped. He knew. It was them. Mars Company… They would pay. Every single one of them would die screaming. He wasn’t making the same mistake as he had when he went to Afghanistan. He wouldn’t find his morals tested. This time his enemy was evil. Truly evil. And he would kill them. The angel would become a blood-soaked devil.

Putting the phone to his ear he said into the receiver in an oddly emotionless voice, “I need a favour.”

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

I'm back

If you've been following the series for any length of time you know that I release a chapter the first Monday of every month. It's not happening this month though, I'm afraid...

My computer... to put it simply, broke. After a week and a half waiting it is back, good as new (considering most of the parts in it are new). However I lost a lot of data including the partially completed chapter that was supposed to come out Monday.

So I hope you will forgive the delays. I would say I'll have it out in time for Valentine's Day but... With all the other things I need to restore or re-acquire I'm not sure that's a feasible deadline. So I hope you will forgive this delay, 013% Part 3 will be out the first Monday in March then we will be back to our regular schedule.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

013% Part 2

Together the six heroes pushed open the heavy stone doors. The light that streamed in blinded them momentarily. The rest of the temple had been dark and labyrinthine, illuminated by the occasional flaming torch. Here in the inner garden though things could not be more different. Vines covered the stone pillars that supported the structures open roof that let light filter down onto the tranquil expanse of red flowers the lead up to a raised dais. Beyond the marble platform was a lake that sparkled in the warm sunlight. At first glance it was beautiful, but a closer look revealed the horror lurking beneath it.

The flowers were not truly red, they were caked in blood buried in the flowers were corpses of men, women and children their bodies twisted and contorted in pain and fear. Standing on the dais was a man in a dark blue cloak, the heretic priest Maudlin. He turned as they entered and looked at the party his eyes flashing with zealous madness.

“You are too late! The ritual is complete!” he cried. The heroes looked on in horror, if only they had been able to get through the traps in the temple slightly faster they could have stopped this. It was their failure and Maudlin’s victory.

Turning away from the aghast heroes the heretic priest thrust out his arms and beseeched the evil he had been summoning, “The great god awakens! Rise from your sleep and let the world fall before your might! Great Beast! Devourer of Worlds! LEVIATHAN!” In cue with the madman’s words the lake boiled and bursting from the surface, twisting into the air was a great snake.

It dwarfed them all; rising up so high it blocked the sun casting the party in shadow. Its scales were like sheets of metal, the only parts of it that weren’t armoured were the fins spaced out evenly on its long body and the tendrils that crowned its head.

Opening its mouth the ancient beast roared. It made all those who heard it shake with fear, some deep primal part of them remembered the terror of a time when man lived in constant fear of that creature’s roar. Despair spread through the party, there was no way they could possibly beat this monster; the world was done for.

The only person who seemed remotely happy was the madman who had awakened the beast. Laughing hysterically he fell to his knees, tears running down his eyes as though he was gazing at something truly beautiful. “At last! My mission is fulfilled! The deed is done! Now, Leviathan, quickly, wipe these infidels who sought to stymie your return from the face of the planet!” he screamed his voice reaching a crescendo.

DO NOT PRESUME TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO HUMAN!

The voice echoed inside all of their minds, deafening them and forcing them to bow to the pure rage it brought upon them. Still the madmen did not stop he screeched, “But my lord! I have done what no one else could! I am your loyal servant! I only want to please you!”

THEN DO WHAT MORTALS DO BEST AND DIE!

The ancient beast opened its maw open, jagged fangs filled its mouth. With a roar like a waterfall it came crashing down on the madman. Swallowing him whole and taking a chunk out of the ground with it. Water sprayed into the air soaking the party and breaking them out of their stupor.

“Prometheus?” Avril asked, her eyes filled with tears.

“Hero, what do we do?” beseeched Mordecai.

Prometheus gritted his teeth. He was supposed to be the hero who would save this world forsaken by gods and demons alike. Using his sword as a crutch he pulled himself to his feet and faced the enormous beast.

“Now that Leviathan is revived there is no use fighting it ourselves. We should all retreat and join up with Gina and the rest. We might be able to destroy it using the Armas,” he declared.

One by one his companions nodded and stood. Avril the thief, Mordecai the slayer, Ashton the mage and Mable the alchemist. Wait… someone was missing?

“Where’s Joker?” Prometheus asked, getting a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Looking around wildly he eventually spotted Joker, standing at the doors they had entered through. He had a smile on his face as he called, “Sorry about this, Hero. But the only way anyone is leaving this place alive is if that thing is dead.” He turned and with gleeful delight swung the doors shut.

“JOKER!” Prometheus shouted dashing towards the swiftly closing doors. Just before he reached them the doors shut and when he pushed them open instead of the labyrinthine temple they had travelled through to reach the garden, a blue void met his eyes, like they were floating in the sky.

“Damn it! I knew we shouldn’t trust him,” Mordecai said, slamming his heavy gauntleted fist into the ground.

“We’ll deal with him later,” Prometheus swore. “First we have to do something about the serpent.”

“I don’t like our chances…” Mable muttered.

“We have no choice! Fight like your life depends on it!” Prometheus ordered leading the charge.

The party fought. Avril danced across the ground her twin knives slashing at Leviathan’s scales aiming for any chinks its armour. Mordecai swung his greatsword trying to crush its armour beneath the weight of the enormous weapon. Ashton cast every spell he knew to bring the creature down. Mable mixed together the items in her bags and tossed every conceivable bomb she could create at the creature. Disregarding defence entirely Prometheus put all his strength into his blade and attacked with blinding flashes of holy light.

However the Leviathan just laughed at their efforts.

FOOLS! IT WOULD TAKE A GOD TO SLAY ME AND THEY HAVE ABANDONED YOU! YOU SHOULD SUBMIT YOURSELF TO A QUICK DEATH!

“No, there is a way…” Mordecai muttered. “Hey, Hero, we might need to use that.”

Prometheus gulped. “You mean… Heavensfall, right? No, if I use that then…”

“It’s the only way Hero! Only you can do this!” Mordecai shouted.

“If only one of us can escape to go back to our world then I will gladly give my life for you, Hero,” Ahston assured him.

“We entrust our wishes for the future to you,” Mable said.

“When you found me, my only thought was stealing your wallet, Prometheus. Somewhere along the way… you stole my heart. If you die here, even if by some miracle I survive I’ll be as good as dead, so live Prometheus. Live!” Avril beseeched him.

“I can’t do it! I won’t!” he refused.

Suddenly he fell to his knees his vision growing dark. Standing behind him was Mordecai who caught the heroes limp body. “Sorry, Hero, but you aren’t getting a say in this.”

 They stood in a circle; Prometheus’s prone body lay in the middle. Heavensfall was an ancient magic only available to the hero. By sacrificing those closest to him the hero would be imbued with the strength of the gods. Even now that the gods had abandoned them this ancient ritual would still work, this was a magic older then the Earth that had to be answered. Even the absent gods would be forced to heed the call of this spell.

“Oh, Gods we beseech thee, lend unto us thy might so we might smite our foe.” Mordecai recited before driving a knife into his chest. Blood spilled from his body but it moved etching out a circle around him and then flowing across the ground, making arcane runes.

“Divines, heed our call and aid your Hero, in his fight against the darkness.” Ashton too drove a knife into his chest after he spoke. His blood joined with Mordecai’s continuing to draw the magic circle.

“A sacrifice we gladly make to prove our piety, should you answer this wish.” Mable did the same as the others.

Finally it was Avril’s turn. Wishing Prometheus farewell in her heart she too spoke the incantation of the ritual. “Four souls willingly given for the sake of one, let the ancient contract be fulfilled.” As she drove the knife into her chest and the magic circle was complete the sky split open.

Lightning struck the ground as a holy light fell upon Prometheus. His body rose into the air as the might of the Gods flowed into him. Roused by the throbbing of his body he looked around and realised what had happened.

“You idiots… I can’t be happy this way…” However he did not have to mourn or regret. Though he was distraught that his comrades had died for this ridiculous spell, he would not let their sacrifice go to waste. Looking up at the sky he shouted, “LET IT START! HEAVENSFALL!”

Everything around him burned away as the holy light scorched everything. When the light faded, Prometheus and Leviathan floated in a black space.

WHAT IS THIS?!

Ignoring Leviathan’s question Prometheus placed a hand on his chest, “For my friends… I will end you, LEVIATHAN!” With his heartfelt roar the light wrapped around him forming silver armour that glowed despite the darkness pressing in on them on all sides.

I WILL NOT FALL TO A MORTAL!

The battle began.

The ancient beast who warred against deities and the mortal granted the power of gods traded blows. The beast slapped him with its fins, summoned water to drown him, crushed him with its body and bit into his armour with its teeth. Prometheus slashed apart the waves with a sword of light, blasted Leviathan off of him with a burst of holy energy and hammered the monster with punches each one hitting with the strength of a meteor.

Before long bloody and ragged the beast faltered.

HOW?! HOW CAN I BE BESTED BY A HUMAN?!

Gripping his helmet Prometheus pulled it off so he could look the ancient monster in the eyes. The helm disappeared into shimmering motes of light as he glared at Leviathan. “I am no ordinary human. Supported by my allies, my friends, my families, I have a power you could not hope to comprehend!”

WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!?

“Listen well, beast! I am Prometheus, Hero of the People! I bring light to a land forsaken by gods and demons alike! I will not let you or anyone else, be they human, god or ancient monster, destroy this world I call home!”

Leviathan roared. Opening its mouth it swam through the empty space looking to swallow him whole. Prometheus didn’t even flinch as the jaws closed on him. Reaching out with his hands and feet he braced himself against the maw and began pushing them outwards. The Leviathan’s roars of anger quickly turned to screams of pain as he was split down the middle, pulled apart by the mortal gifted with the strength of gods.

Throwing the pieces of Leviathan off into the void they began to disintegrate into holy light. Prometheus fell, he fell for an eternity and only a second as he hit the ground on his hands and knees back in the temple. The doors were wide open and he saw he was back on his world and not the separate plane that Joker had somehow created.

He did not care though; now that the fight was over he let out his grief in a strangled scream of pure emotion. His head falling to the floor, tears poured from his eyes. Avril, Mordecai, Ashton and Maple were gone. They had given their lives for him. He may have won the fight but the price of victory was too much for him to bear.

“How can I claim to protect the world when I can’t even protect my world,” he sobbed.

“That’s the hero’s dilemma right there,” in an instant the sorrow that had threatened to drown him turned into pure, hot rage. Standing up, his bloodshot eyes fell onto Joker who was sitting idly on a piece of masonry that had broken off of the temple, lazily eating an apple.

“This is all your fault, you bastard!” Prometheus roared dashing at Joker. The godly powers he’d been granted had left him but he could still beat this bastard to death without them.

Looking terrified Joker fell backwards, Prometheus fist flying through the empty space he had occupied. He continued attacking, but every time Joker somehow managed to dodge the attacks as he stumbled around like an idiot. Eventually Prometheus fell to his knees, letting out painful gasps as he tried to fill his lungs with oxygen.

“Wow, wow, wow! You don’t want to be doing that, buddy,” Joker called as he squatted over the panting hero. “After all if you killed me, you’d never find out how to bring your little buddies back.”

Prometheus froze. It was a lie. He should ignore it… but his head rose and he found himself asking, “What… did you say?”

“Your buddies, your compadres, you can bring them back you know. Hell, not just them. If you had the mind too, you could save anyone who has ever died.”

This was a trap, a trick, a lie. It was too fantastical to be true… but… if it was then… “How?” he asked his voice hoarse.

Joker grinned. The same grin he’d worn when he’d shut the door trapping the party with the raging Leviathan. “There is a veil, a veil that leads to the next world somewhere in the world. I know where it is but I’m not saying where it is just yet. If I told you, you’d probably go running straight off to it. First, you’ve got to prepare some stuff. But you know, if you do this it will mean turning your back on every one of those so called ‘gods’ you people worship. You’ll be breaking the natural order of the world and that is a big taboo. Knowing that, do you still want to hear what I have to say?”

“If it means saving everybody I couldn’t save… I’ll do it,” Prometheus declared.

Joker’s grin was so wide it looked like his face would split apart. “Then let me tell you what you need to do…”

 A message popped up on the screen.

“Do you want to save?”

She hit yes and saved the game. She checked the time. It was pretty late… or was it early? Her perception of time was a bit warped. Not only because she hadn’t slept in three days but because she lived in eternal night.

Her name was Sophie Lane and she was a shut in. She hardly ever left her one room apartment and she had all the lights off and the curtains drawn to keep the light and other people away. The only illumination she had was given off by the three computer screens sitting on her desk. Two of the screens showed the same thing, the game she’d been playing. The third, a smaller one was always open to a chat forum she managed.

“Hah… Hot…” she whispered. It was the middle of winter and wasn’t something one should say when it was so cold, but because she kept her place shut up the air inside was stagnant and warm. Getting up from her chair she yawned, stretching her body, the long shirt she was wearing riding up and revealing she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties on her lower half.

She grimaced as her own pungent odour reached her nose. “Bath then bed,” she decided. “Gotta be careful I don’t fall asleep in the bath.”

Another yawn leaked from her as she undressed stripping off the few clothes she’d been wearing. She threw the clothes to the ground, letting them join the other discarded articles of clothes that covered the floor of her room before going into the bathroom. She drew the bath and finally sank into it the fatigue of three straight days gaming draining from her. Sophie hummed as she scrubbed herself; it was the battle theme of the game she’d just been playing.

The game was at times ridiculous and at times a masterpiece. The way the entire story changed depending on the choices you made was something amazing, other games had done similar things in the past but not to the extent of this game. However it was undeniably tropey and full of plot holes. Like, why the hell didn’t Leviathan attack the heroes while they were carrying out the Heavensfall ritual?

Still it was entertaining enough. She also liked that she got to choose the main character’s name. She liked using the name Prometheus in games, she had a bit of a fascination with Greek myths and the story of Prometheus gifting man the knowledge of fire was probably her second favourite.

When she finished her bath and had dried herself she wandered back into the main room of her apartment and grabbed a bottle of pills on the table. They were multi-vitamins. She got most of her dietary needs from various supplements. Whenever she actually ate it was usually either junk food or something she could microwave.

She popped the pills into her mouth and crushed them between her teeth, grimacing at the disgusting taste; she washed them down with a glass of water.

Usually when people saw her life they had two reactions. One was disgust, they couldn’t believe someone could live in such a manner, the other was pity they assumed something terrible must have happened to her for her to shut herself in like this. Neither was true though.

In her own words, “It’s totally easy and fun. I can do whatever I want, so FO.”

Opening her cupboard she rooted around for a change of clothes but couldn’t find anything. “FFS. Need to go to the laundry again?” Sophie complained. Her room didn’t have a washer or dryer, there was a communal laundry on the bottom floor of her apartment building but it was such a pain going down all those stairs and then back up when she was done. Plus it seriously cut in to her game time.

She’d do it when she woke up though, for now she’d make do with one of the twenty dirty shirts strewn across her floor. As for undergarments… She was just sleeping so forgetting them couldn’t hurt for now.

Dropping one of the oversized shirts over her tiny body, she shook her long hair out before staggering towards the bed. Sleep was already calling to her. Unfortunately something else was calling too.

The short noise that pierced the otherwise quiet room was the notification system for her forum. “This better be good…”

Collapsing in her chair she checked the phone number that had been given in the message that had been put up. This wasn’t a familiar one, maybe a new client or maybe it was part of some sort of sting operation…

“LOL. Good luck.”

Apart from being a shut-in and a gamer Sophie also moonlighted as the hacker known only as Icarus. Although she personally didn’t like the term hacker, she called herself a programmer. It’s just her programs were rather good at exploiting flaws in security systems and cracking passwords.

Her cliental were rarely honest but the job paid well and it was one of the reasons she was able to live her current lifestyle. Plus she could occasionally do some real good using her skills. Of course it made her a target for government agencies but she wasn’t going to let the fear of some secret squirrels get in the way of her lifestyle.

“Let’s see what the game is this time,” she muttered. Grabbing her headset and microphone she opened up a custom voice modulation program she’d made herself and loaded the “Icarus” setting. She then opened another one of her myriad programs this one turned her computer into a phone, that was the short explanation. The long answer was that it let her hack into a mobile and hook it up to her system. She told people that she didn’t use landlines because they were unsecure but the truth was it was because unlike a mobile, most landlines were so basic that there was nothing for her to hack.

She entered the mobile number that had appeared in her forum and at the same time she began implementing countermeasures for retaliatory hacking. She first monitored her system looking for any possible intrusions, on the other computer screen she encrypted the call she was placing and started sending out dummy signals from a number of fake systems around the world. Some might call her paranoid but she’d hacked enough government and corporate systems and seen enough classified documents that she felt this was necessary.

“This is Icarus, you have a job?” she said into the microphone when the phone was answered. She couldn’t hear it but a modulated voice would have been speaking in the other person’s ear. It disrupted accents and couldn’t give you any hint as to gender of the person speaking. If someone was recording and tried to track her down using some sort of voice recognition thing they’d have a tough time.

“Hi, Icarus, it’s Brenton again,” came the cheery reply.

“Lame! You again? WTH man? Can’t I get something new, please?” she complained.

Brenton Perchensky was the leader of a two-bit gang of street toughs operating in London and a regular customer. They had first met a few years ago when Icarus had lent one of her programs to a group of animal activists so they could storm a chemical lab in the middle of the night and rescue the animals being experimented on inside. Since then he’d hired Sophie for a number of tasks, all of them were rather inconsequential stuff like deleting information from the London PD’s system or disabling security around the docks or monitoring the activities of rival gangs. Things like that.

Realising this would probably be another of his dumb little missions that offered no challenge or excitement she was really regretting staying up for this. Except… there was something… bugging her. ‘I didn’t recognise the number,’ she realised.

“Wait a min… This isn’t your usual number.” Her mind began racing as she started considering the possibilities. “It’s a trap! Are we being monitored? If the MIB are there give me a sign. The code for S.O.S. is dot-dot-dot dash-dash-dash dot-dot-dot.”

She’d always suspected that eventually those government bastards would try to bring her in. She was prepared to go toe to toe them with them. Apart from vitamins, games, other miscellaneous software and her hardware she’d sunk the majority of her remaining finances into preparing a couple of fail safes in case of ‘political intervention.’ The secret squirrels could come at her anytime.

“We aren’t being monitored; the men in black aren’t here. My phone was just kind of broken.”

“They telling you to say that? Tell ‘em all ‘TGTFO.’ Icarus won’t fall for it.”

Opening one of her programs on another screen she quickly began accessing the system of the phone she was in looking for something. As she did she asked, “You gots a camera? NM.” She had already found and activated the camera. She was treated to a view of wood panelling. There was no sign of government stooges but she wasn’t naïve enough to think they weren’t listening in just from that. “Got it. Turn slowly.”

The image slowly moved, whatever room he was in appeared to be in a state of disrepair, a table was upended and she thought she saw signs of something shattered amongst the carpet on the floor but there was no sign of any spooks. She was slightly relieved that she wouldn’t have to go into cyberwarfare with the governments of the world yet, however when next she spoke her tone was irate.

“Clear. FFS, you need to be more careful, Brent. Majorly bad idea getting new phone. Could be bugs or other BS up in there.”

If he wasn’t trying to subtly send her an SOS signal why did he have to go and use a different phone? It was just “kind of broken?” ‘Makin’ me worried. Don’t go breakin’ it in the first place, idiot.’

“If we could move away from your delusions and back to business?”

Who did this guy think he was? If this job wasn’t interesting she’d make him pay out the nose for it. Plus he could only be so lackadaisical about the idea of government surveillance because he hadn’t seen some of the stuff she had.

“Only delusions if ya wrong. Only thing separating a mad man and a genius is hindsight, or somethin’ like it,” she told him. That and a libraries worth of classified documents.

“The sophistry can wait. This is important. Have you ever heard of a group called Mars Company.”

She didn’t remember hearing the name before. She ran a quick search through her archive of misappropriated intel and found several dozen hits on the name. A quick glance at the data showed her that Mars Company was a private military company, a fancy name for organised mercenaries. “Mercenary Company, right? What about ‘em?”

“I have reason to believe they are kidnapping people.”

“…You shittin’ me?” One of the drawbacks of her voice modulation program was that it didn’t convey emotions very well. The incredulous drawl she had spoken with probably didn’t come across on the other end of the line.

“No? I mean, no! This is real. They are kidnapping children off the street, there are whispers going around that they are being tortured and experimented on. I need proof of that. Even if you can just give me an address, somewhere to check I can send people in to look for hard evidence.”

Brenton’s gang was based in London so presumably these kidnappings were happening somewhere in England at least. The gang leader didn’t know it but Sophie lived in London as well, she lived on the other side of town from their pub but even if this kidnapping was happening around his side of the city, she trawled through so much data and poked her nose in so many things that she would have heard something if it was happening.

“Can’t tell if you’ve gone totes cray or what…” she murmured.

“At this point I don’t care if you don’t believe me. Just look into it for me, would you!”

This was getting to be a headache. She wanted to sleep. Sighing she decided that she may as well look into it whenever she woke up, so the quicker she ended this call the better for both of them.

“Yeah, yeah. Standard fees apply. Any more info or what?”

“I do know about a lab… I don’t know if they’re involved or if this is just a coincidence but apparently they have an ongoing contract with Mars Company as well.”

“What’s the places name?”

“Uh… I don’t think it has a name.” He gave her the address.

Unlike Mars Company she had heard of this lab. When it was being built the residents in the area had raised a huge stink about it destroying the classic beauty of their neighbourhood. More recently a news reporter was apparently assaulted by a guard working at the place. The case had been written off when it was revealed the reporter had been trying to force themselves into the building despite stern warnings that it wasn’t permitted.

“Ah, yeah, yeah. Got it. Started off as like a personal workshop for some rich science guy so he didn’t feel like naming it or something like that. Owner is Eoin Parker.”

“That’s the one.”

I ran a quick search for the things related to this lab. Apart from some scientific papers and patents for whatever the mathematic gobbledygook said, there was a record of employment for the mercenary group. ‘Safely moving dangerous chemicals, huh?’ Hiring a PMC for just that seemed a bit like overkill. What sort of “dangerous chemicals” were these?

There was also a news story about some big name scientist called Michael Blunt moving to the lab but it didn’t seem related. She would make a mental note of it though in case it proved to be important later.

“Kay. I’ll check it out. Find anything I’ll text you,” she said finishing up the call.

“Thanks for the help, Icarus.”

“No prob. Gotta make a livin’. TTYL.”

She dropped the call and let out a yawn. She needed sleep. Now. She shut down her computer system, the whir of the PC’s fan would keep her awake, it was like a siren song inviting her to play and then she staggered over to her bed and collapsed in it. She’d already fallen asleep before she hit the mattress.

 Sophie got to work as soon as she woke up, 32 hours later. Not that she knew that in her perpetual night. Although she took time out to make and eat noodles as well as take her supplements. After that though she began working in earnest.

She started off doing some preliminary research on Mars Company. She couldn’t find much but what she could find turned her stomach. They had done some dark stuff. After that she looked at the lab the mercs were currently employed by while there was a plethora of information on the lab none of it was useful and she could barely make heads or tails of half of it.

What the hell was a quantum energy re-programmer supposed to be?

“No good. Need a new angle…”

If there was some kind of serial kidnapping spree happening there was too little information about it. “Did Brent go bent in the head?” she wondered as she trawled through an archive of news stories. Wasn’t that odd though?

She was operating under the assumption that the information wasn’t there because these abductions weren’t happening. What if you looked at it the other way though, because these children were going missing someone was burying the information.

She began poking around the internet. It was nearly impossible to delete something from the net after it was posted. People looking for help finding their children would obviously use this convenient tool to get a message out to people to find their child. If someone was going through and eliminating any possible whispers of these cases then there was bound to be some metadata left over somewhere. Hopefully she could use that to figure out who was deleting the information and that would give her somewhere to start working.

It took several hours of work, she had to consider that some cases were solved and that was why the pleas for help were taken down, but it was a long and tedious process fact checking all that. Eventually though she had compiled a list of 24 children who had all gone missing in the last year who were not found (either dead or alive) but all mention of their disappearance had been stricken from the internet.

From there came the gruelling work of trying to piece together who had deleted the data. Although she would bet everything she owned it was some government agents.

 The work passed slowly, she spent a full day bent over her computer but eventually she let out a sigh and said, “GG me.”

Sophie had identified the computer network eliminating these posts and one of her programs had just finished breaking into the offenders system. Big surprise, it was a government system. Specifically, the trail had led her to Military Intelligence, Section 5, more commonly known as MI5.

She started copying all the data on the enemy servers onto her own computer but there was so much data it would take another couple of hours to finish. So she began hunting through the documents for any clue on what Mars Company did after they picked up the children while she copied the data. She was sure hadn’t been picked up. She was a ghost in the system.

Confident, she began digging through the data on the MI5 server. She eventually found one file that seemed to relate to the case. ‘“Project: Eden?”’ she read. Was it named after the garden in the bible? They weren’t trying to create a new human race and were stealing kids to be the Adam and Eve’s in their screwed up creation myth were they?

The file was mostly empty. It seemed a lot of the information had been recorded as hard copy only. Still there was enough to go on for her to be able to continue following the trail.

“Let’s see… ‘Leading humanity to a perfect world.’ They serious?” this was sounding very cultish. The government wasn’t trying to open a hell portal to use as a renewable energy source were they? Cause that didn’t work out too well in Doom.

There were a number invoices in the file. Most of them were payment for security and “research materials” made out to a certain mercenary outfit; however there was one invoice that stood out from the rest. It was an invoice for a large amount of mechanical parts and specialised tools. It wasn’t for Mars Company though, but rather a civilian company. There was a note attached to the receipt as well.

It said, “Shipment to be sent directly to location provided. Payment provided by THEY.”

“They?” she tried hunting around for more information on, what she could only assume was the financial backers of this project but was unable to find any references or rather she found too many. A common word like “they” threw up so many hits it would have taken her entire life to pour over everything. A puzzle to go over another time, then. For now she had to concentrate on the children who were being kidnapped.

A righteous fire lit in her belly Sophie directed her efforts to the shipping company that had transported the items ordered. The government system she’d hacked may have been reticent about information but the shipping company was hopefully not as careful.

She struck pay dirt. There was a record of the shipment that included an address and a signature as well as a client name. The signature was a mess and she couldn’t read it but in the section marked ‘Client’ was an easy to read name.

“Engine… We talking Crash Bandicoot here?” Although the scientist with the rocket sticking out of his cranium was called “N. Gin.” Still, it was aggravating that they didn’t have a proper name; Engine was obviously a moniker of some kind. “Still, I’ve got an address. That’s a win.”

Looking up the address on Google Earth she saw that the address was a warehouse. It was just outside of London and was rather isolated, it didn’t seem to be in use but the utilities provider’s system showed that it was consuming a large amount of power infrequently. This was probably the place.

“Who owns you?” Sophie cooed as she started looking for records. What she found was a name that didn’t mean anything to her. “P. Blunt? Wait a minute didn’t someone called Blunt join that lab?”

As she went back to the documents she’d gathered on the lab, also thinking about the report she’d have to make to Brenton, she froze. Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure what it was but something about her system didn’t seem right. Perhaps there was a slight lag in the movement of the mouse on the screen or maybe the computer was running slower due to some unknown program putting heavy strain on it, she couldn’t be sure.

She was positive though that she’d been hacked. Her mind raced, how had she not noticed? How long had the hacker been in her system? Did she only notice now because they’d arrived or had they been there for a while and a slight mistake had let her notice them.

Swearing repeatedly she went into emergency mode. She leapt from her chair; the wheels on it caught on some of the clothes littering the ground and toppled over hitting the floor with a bang. At the same time she ducked down under her desk and pulled out the power chord for the computer. Instantly the whine of the computer’s fan ended and she let out a sigh of relief.

Knock! Knock!

Sophie’s heart leapt up into her throat at the sudden rapping at her door. Was this the government spooks come to make her disappear?

The knocking continued…

…and continued…

…and continued.

Resigning herself to whatever lay beyond the door she edged forwards, past her kitchen and down into the hall. Opening the door slightly she was blinded by the light that came pouring in, searing her retinas. She shut her eyes, blinking against the harsh glare as she tried to make out whoever was standing at her door.

Slowly her eyes adjusted and as the person’s face came into view she heard a weak, timid voice asking, “Are you alright, dearie? I was having tea when I heard a mighty racket from over here and I thought you might be in trouble.”

Sophie let out a sigh as she realised it was little old lady from next door and not the secret squirrels. “T-Totally fine,” she stammered. When was the last time she talked to someone face to face?

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all, so don’t feel you’re putting me out.”

“N-No. I’m… I’m fine I just… fell over my chair. Sorry for worrying you.”

“Well just so long as you’re-” the old lady began saying but Sophie shut the door on her face. Letting out a relieved sigh she sank to the floor, her legs suddenly unable to support her.

She couldn’t stay there for long though. She had been hacked, worst case scenario right now there were people coming after her.

Sophie let out a sigh. She’d started using the name Icarus as a reminder. In myth Icarus had fashioned a pair of wings using wax and with them he flew. However Icarus flew too high and the heat from the sun melted the wax and he crashed. Like Icarus because she hadn’t been more careful, more vigilant she may have found herself falling without a hope or a prayer.

Still, Icarus had a job to do. She had been contracted to find information out about this kidnapping conspiracy and she had done that. Now Sophie had a responsibility to see that information to the client no matter what.

If the secret squirrels had located her though, they would almost definitely try to stop her telling anyone. What would they do? It probably took time to form a team and get permission to storm a residential complex, so they would have to do something in the interim to assure she didn’t contact anyone.

“Time for Protocol Five,” she decided.

It was time for all that paranoia to pay off.

 Three hours later she had finished setting up Protocol Five. Opening a laptop she began typing out an e-mail to Brenton telling him what she’d found. She didn’t have long though, she thought she’d heard the screech of cars pulling up just a few seconds before. There was no time to make this as secure as she usually did. This would have to be a normal e-mail and hopefully Brenton would read it before the secret squirrels could get in and delete it.

She finished typing just as she heard the sound of heavy boots pounding the floor outside her room. She hit send just as the door was smashed open and four men in heavy riot armour burst in each one carrying a sub-machine gun, a patch of a boar’s head on their arms.

“Bet you wish you were a few seconds faster,” Sophie said standing up to face them.

An enormous man appeared at the door, he was white, with blonde hair cut to military shortness. He only had one ice blue eye the other was hidden underneath an eyepatch. There were clear wounds around his eyes, scratch marks by the look of it. They looked pretty recent too, maybe a week old, they still hadn’t healed fully.

“We have intercepted all signals. Your message never made it out,” he taunted in a Russian accent.

Sophie shrugged her shoulders, “Somehow, I’m not worried.”

 At the other end of the city Brenton was reading an email that had turned up in his inbox. He didn’t know the sender personally but as soon as he saw what it said he knew it must have been sent by Icarus.

‘Mars compny = contrct wth lab +aquir mats 4 prjct

delvries -> Engine

site ownr = P Blunt lab connect?

work=free

sve thm

cya.”

Then it said the address.

Brenton thought about that second to last line. Whenever Icarus finished talking he always said “TTYL” not “see ya.” It just seemed… oddly final. Another odd thing was that this was clearly from a private e-mail address, he hadn’t used any of his hacking stuff to hide his e-mail. It was odd…

 Sophie was dragged out of her apartment by men the other residents of her complex looked on exchanging whispers amongst themselves. The old lady next door appeared frantic as she saw the dark bruises on her neighbour’s face and body. Despite all this Sophie had a smile on her face.

She was satisfied. Icarus had completed her last job.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

013% Part: 1

Sitting on his own, David sipped a cup of tea in a small café near his university. Classes had ended for the year but he didn’t really have anything else to do so he tended to end up in or around the university on his holidays anyway.

It had been four days since he’d ‘infiltrated’ his grandfather’s lab. He hadn’t seen Kat since they parted ways near the Royal Bleeders pub, him informing her of Brenton’s decision to look for some information and her promising that if she heard anything she’d get in touch.

Things hadn’t changed much for him which was a bit disappointing. In stories whenever someone became embroiled in these sorts of conspiracies they tended to be involved in dramatic events one after the other. Then again that was probably the difference between a narrative and real life.

One thing was noticeably different about him though. Before, David had not much cared for what was happening in the world. His only source for news was what he overheard people saying or what he talked about with Chloe or his grandfather. Now though he had taken to purchasing a newspaper every day and reading it cover to cover looking for anything that might relate to Mars Company or the missing children.

There had been nothing so far. In fact most of the paper was talking about Christmas. It was only three short days away…

“Speaking of I don’t have any presents for people,” he muttered. His grandfather was pretty easy, he’d be happy with any trinket that he could fiddle with, he didn’t know Kat well enough that he felt he had to get her anything but there was Chloe to consider. Getting her a box of chocolates or something was an option but it seemed so… impersonal. It was the sort of thing a distant cousin or something might do.

“Still, I don’t know what she might want…”

Going back to his newspaper he continued reading flipping through the pages until he came across something in the entertainment section.

 Regent Street, one of the shopping hotspots in London, even during the day the Christmas decorations on display were garishly bright and gaudy to David’s eyes. Normally he stayed away from anywhere that attracted crowds but he was on a mission today.

In the paper there was a small ad “Hot new artist: CRYSTAL SKY signing autographs opposite the Apple Store on Regent Street from 10:00 to 12:00 today only!”

David still remembered the way Chloe had lit up when talking about the artist. Also because of him she had left the concert she’d been looking forward to. So, plagued with a vague feeling of guilt, David set out braving the freezing temperatures and the Christmas crowds.

Although when he arrived he instantly felt any enthusiasm he had for the task draining away.

“……” With a tired expression David took in the sight of the line. A queue had been formed to get an autograph from this Crystal Sky lady, a quick calculation told him that there had to be at least 200 people all standing in line. And given how people tended to use talking to their friends as in excuse to cut in line that number would probably swell as more people turned up.

‘I want to go home…’ David thought. However swallowing those thoughts he went and stood at the back of the line. The signing was supposed to be from 10 to 12. He had been a bit late to arrive and it was already 10:58 am. Assuming that the signing had started and that the artist they were all there to see wasn’t also running late, in order for him to get a signature the line had to move at a rate of at least three every minute.

That was an estimate using the best circumstances though… It was assuming no one else jumped into line. Also because he had never been to an event like this before he wasn’t sure what the protocol was. Did you step forward, get something signed and then carry on or could you shake hands with the performer and say a couple of things before you had to continue? The longer he thought about it the more hopeless it all seemed. Although perhaps that was because he was busy analysing the situation, if he stopped thinking about it perhaps this whole ordeal would be finished with before he knew it. If only there was something else for him to do… Switching off his brain was a near impossible task.

“Is that you, love?”

Someone was already trying to cut in line it sounded like. “Great,” he drawled. It hadn’t even been thirty seconds since he’d stood in line. Assuming cut ins would continue at this pace then in order for him to get to the front of the line it would take a turnover rate of six people a second.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Looking for something else to concentrate on he found himself thinking about Kat. What exactly did she do for Christmas? She would obviously be spending time with her “family,” but when your family was a bunch of homeless and runaway kids, what exactly did that entail? Hell, perhaps they didn’t celebrate Christmas at all.

“Are you ignoring me, love?”

David didn’t do much for Christmas, he tended to get together with his grandfather and sister Christmas Eve and exchange presents with them then, mainly because Christmas Chloe and Eoin would be having lunch with his father.

“Oi!”

While he wasn’t uninvited to Christmas luncheon, the thought of eating a meal while his sister and grandfather tried to make small talk as his father ignored his existence made his stomach sour. He much preferred the current arrangement. Spending Christmas day alone might have been lonely but it was a hell of a lot better compared to the alternative.

“Quit… IGNORING ME!”

“Guh!” David staggered as he received a sharp blow to the stomach. Turning to get a look at whoever it was that had just assaulted him he saw a familiar face, apparently that annoying person who had been shouting stuff had been talking to him. “D-Don’t call me ‘love.’”

“I’ll call ya whatever I want ya bloody muppet,” Bluebird said, hands on her hips.

“…” David was too busy picturing Miss Piggy caked in fresh blood to respond right away. It was a rather disconcerting image all told.

“Kids these days… So rude!” Bluebird huffed. “Plus what’s with that lame reaction? Your reactions lacking a bit a pizazz, boyo. Be more like… ‘Uh!’ or… ‘Wha!?” or… ‘Hah!’” She mimed a variety of over the top reactions while David looked on dumbfounded. Although as she continued doing gradually more ridiculous reactions that quickly transformed into irritation.

That irritation quickly gave away to worry though. Why was someone like Bluebird at an event like this? While there was nothing wrong with her liking music or this particular artist, David just didn’t imagine it meshing with her punk aesthetic. Even today the blue-haired woman was wearing tight leather pants, a belt with a cross and myriad chains hanging off of it, and long sleeve white shirt with… a corset over it?

‘No. The most reasonable explanation here is that it’s to deliver a message,’ he decided. Why she was doing an inane pantomime routine when she should be delivering said message, well, he had no choice but to put it down to a personality quirk.

“Why are you here? Has something happened with Kat? Did you find out something about the company? Why are you here?” he asked rapid fire.

Bluebird held up her hands in an attempt to defend herself against the onslaught of questions. “Woah, woah, woah! Settle petal! I ain’t going to answer if ya keep that up.”

He waited for her to reply while biting down the rising impatience that was flowing through him. He really found this woman difficult to deal with.

Bluebird scratched her head, fingers running through her blue hair. “Well…” she muttered. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here, eh? Too many ears,” she added glaring at the people around them who were suddenly going out of their way to show they weren’t listening in.

They had been drawing a fair amount of attention from the people around them. Normally under the unfriendly eyes of so many people David would have shrivelled up. He had been so busy thinking about what could be happening with Kat and the missing children that the onlookers may as well have been cardboard cut-outs.

“…” While he considered Bluebirds offer to relocate he couldn’t immediately agree. A conspiracy shouldn’t necessitate him putting his life on hold. Christmas would arrive and he’d need a present for Chloe and who knew if he was going to get another chance at Crystal Sky’s autograph.

Besides if you considered it objectively, these events had nothing to with him. The people disappearing weren’t his family or friends. The laboratory his grandfather ran was only tangentially involved and the driving force behind his desire to investigate was a vague hope that his father was behind this.

All things considered… Deciding upon his answer David replied, “Unfortunately… I need to stay here. My sister is a huge fan and I-”

“…need an autograph?” Bluebird asked finishing his sentence. Not waiting for an answer she continued, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, love. I can get you one of them easy.”

“Huh?” David stared at her dumbly.

“Didn’t I say? I’m actin’ as security for the little miss,” the woman said, proudly puffing out her chest.

 Apparently Crystal Sky, real name Luanne Sky, was Brenton’s wife’s niece or as Bluebird said, “…his niece-in-law.” While the young singer was doing a tour in England, Brenton’s wife, a woman called Kate, had asked her husband to have his toughs guard her during her public appearances. Mrs. Perchensky was overprotective of her beloved niece at least that was what he was told.

The adage, “It’s a small world,” didn’t come close to expressing David’s feelings. First the lab his grandfather worked for was connected with a group kidnapping kids some of whom worked with or for a gang called the Royal Bleeders and now, by some crazy coincidence the singer his sister was obsessed with was the niece-in-law of the leader of that gang?

Although at least this did answer a question that had been bugging him, namely, ‘How had Kat entered the live house that night?’ If the Royal Bleeders had been working security she probably just asked to be let in and they said, “Yes.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bluebird said when the subject was brought up, “I wasn’t there that night but I heard the story from Mobo. He had apparently stepped outside because some band called Dead Mouse Train or something was giving him a migraine and he ran into Kat trying to sneak in round the back. But you were there, huh? Pretty crazy coincidence, right love?”

“At this point I’d call it an inevitable occurrence,” he said bitterly.

“Or~r,” she said stretching out the word, “it could be fate. Coo! Coo! Kat and David sitting in a tree-”

David chose to delete the next dozen or so seconds from his memory.

A marquee had been set up on the street; sitting in front of it was Crystal Sky and guarding her was another familiar face. The singer looked slightly curious as Bluebird approached and whispered to Mobo, “Gotta discuss some stuff, big guy, so hold down the fort for me.”

“…Don’t like this…” he murmured glowering at the crowd waiting for the singer’s signature. Bluebird just patted him on the back as she ducked into the marquee. David briefly nodded his head to Mobo and followed the woman. As he did he glanced out at the crowd. Compared to the back of the line the front of the line was much more subdued. Though considering they were under the glare of Mobo it was probably inevitable.

Even David, supported by the knowledge that Mobo was anxious around strangers, couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

As the flap closed he caught the sight of Crystal Sky watching him with a slight frown on her face. He hadn’t paid much attention to her but he was struck by the vivid golden colour of her irises in the second before she disappeared from view.

“Wanna drink?” Bluebird called. Turning around there were a number of chairs in the marquee and a tea station set up in one corner. Bluebird was pouring something from a thermos into a mug. It clearly wasn’t tea but it did steam when exposed to the air. Coffee perhaps? Although it looked more red then brown…

“No, more importantly-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. No one likes impatient men, you hear?” She said waving him away. She set down the thermos and walked over to a chair, collapsing in it she let out a happy sigh as she stretched her legs. David could only watch, steadily getting more irate as she blew the steam off the cup and take a long sip.

When she finally lowered the cup and turned to him she asked, “So what did ya want to ask, love?”

“Has something happened to Kat? I haven’t heard from her in days. What about Mars Company? Did you guys end up discovering anything?”

“Haven’t seen hide or hair of our little kitten since she ran out of Boss’s office last week,” she told him. David nodded awkwardly. It was pretty hard to forget, Kat smashing a phone, tossing a table and storming out of the room tears in her eyes. “As for the other thing…” Bluebird continued.  “What’s a Marsh Company?”

“Mars,” David corrected automatically. Although it made sense she wasn’t aware of what Mars Company was now that he thought about it. Brenton had said that the Royal Bleeders would not get involved, he would ask around with some acquaintances but that would be the extent of his help.

Sure, when he’d first run into her, he had assumed she had approached him to deliver a message but her working here as security was a coincidence and being a friendly sort she stopped an acquaintance she noticed to say hi. It may not be how David operated his life but it certainly seemed to fit her character.

He relaxed, now that he realised that all his worrying had been for nothing. It was a coincidence… right?

He remembered his words just a minute ago. ‘“…an inevitable occurrence.”’

Two ringtones started playing.

One of them was David’s. Judging from the way she had started fishing around in her pocket the other must have belonged to Bluebird. Pulling out his phone he checked the caller ID. It was an unknown number.

Bluebird had already answered her phone but David hesitated to answer for a few seconds. An inevitable occurrence… Everything was falling into place, building to something he couldn’t see. He felt like he was standing on a precipice. One more step and he would no longer be able to go back. If he didn’t answer this call everything would go back to normal. If he did answer something would change. Something would start.

He pressed the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Ah, hello. Am I speaking to David Parker?”

“Yes…” he answered cautiously. The voice sounded familiar but he couldn’t really place it…

“This is Brenton. Kat gave me your number.” That was it. It had been hard to tell over the phone but that was the voice of the Bleeder’s leader. He had given Kat his home address and his mobile number when they parted so she could contact him and it seems she’d passed it on to Brenton. “I’ve already spoken to her and I imagine she’ll contact you shortly, but I thought I’d tell you the results of the investigation.”

David swallowed, he wasn’t sure if he was anxious or excited but he had been right. This was the moment everything would change for him. He could feel it. He listened with bated breath.

“We found a warehouse Mars Company is operating out of. Kat has the address so ask her for the details. Also as for who hired them, the only contracts they currently have are with your grandfather’s lab and with someone called ‘Engine.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

“…No I don’t think so,” David replied. He hadn’t even heard the name Engine before. Although… he felt like there was something he should remember. He ran through everything in his mind related to the word ‘engine,’ but came up blank. The more he thought though the more that feeling he was forgetting something important plagued him. Trying to put the matter from his mind he asked, “By the way do you know who owns the warehouse?”

“Eh? Umm… I think it was… a P. Blunt. Why do you ask?”

…

A grin split across his face, a cruel sadistic grin. “Thanks for your time.”

“Eh? Hey wa-”

David hung up. His hands were shaking. This was it… Anger coursed through him, not just the usual black tar that surfaced when he thought of his father but a new red hot anger that burned the pit of his stomach. P. Blunt could only be Patricia Blunt. That bastard was using his mother’s name for whatever this crap was. “He… He, he, he, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

David laughed. He could finally take down that man.

Realising he was being unseemly he calmed his emotions as quickly as he’d lost control of them. Still, this was truly fortuitous. All he’d ever needed was an excuse and this whole affair had given it to him. He would do whatever it took to find evidence that his father was behind this. Irrefutable, undeniable evidence and he would destroy that man’s entire life.

He was being vindictive and petty but he didn’t care.

All he wanted was to hurt that man. To make him finally acknowledge that David was there.

“So that was Kat just now,” Bluebird said, snapping David back to the present. “She wanted me to pick both of you up. Well she asked me to pick her up, I assumed you would have joined in at some point though. Only problem is…”

Bluebird glanced down at her cup.

“Honestly not sure if I should be out driving after drinking this…”

‘What the hell is in that cup?’ David thought. Out loud he replied, “It’s fine. I’ll take a taxi.” Then he stopped as he remembered why he was there. Chloe…

Destroying Michael Blunt was what he had wanted to do for so long but… If he ignored Chloe to pursue this wouldn’t that make him just as evil as his father? What was more important, his revenge or maintaining his good relationship with his sister?

Noticing the conflict going on in David’s mind, Bluebird said, “Don’t worry, love. I’ll get ya an autograph, cross my heart. Actually why don’t you just bring your sis on down to the Swan’s Head, Christmas Eve. All the Bleeders’ll be havin’ a year end party. Lil’ Luanne’ll be there and if ya ask nicely she might even sing ya a song or two. Way better than a dumb ol’ autograph, right? Am I smart or wot!”

David smiled at her and said, “That would be wonderful, I can’t thank you enough for the offer.”

“Woah! Would you look at that? You’re actually pretty cute when you smile,” at those words David’s smile dried up. “Ah, back to your old sourpuss face, huh? Well, be seeing you, David.”

“Yeah.” David turned to leave. He got about three steps before he turned back a frown on his face. He wasn’t sure but… Had she just called him David? “Maybe I imagined it…” he said to himself.

More importantly it was time for him to move against his father and time for Kat to find her family. Was the cat alive or dead? It was time to open the box.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

Christmas Side Story 2016

Here it is your Christmas story for this year. Well it’s not really a Christmas story so much as just something interesting that may or may not pay off in the future and you really shouldn’t expect too much.

I had fun writing it though, imagining things from a different perspective is fun, even more so if unlike David and Hayter were in the main story, together and observing each other. Anyway, I hope you enjoy “A Third Perspective.”

http://theprobabilityengine.deviantart.com/art/Christmas-2016-Side-Story-A-Third-Perspective-653066326

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

December and 2017

So things are progressing steadily and I have some announcements to make! Check out: http://theprobabilityengine.deviantart.com/journal/December-and-2017-649728375

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

012%

Lucius escorted Hayter through the manor talking all the while like a tour guide. Explaining the history of the manor and other things, oblivious to the fact Hayter wasn’t paying attention to his incessant chatter. They eventually came to a non-descript corner on the first floor, reaching down to the ground Lucius grasped a slight indent and pulled. There was a trapdoor; it lifted up with a slight creak. ‘This was constructed during the days of prohibition, we’ve refurnished since then and we mainly use it for private family functions now,’ Lucius explained as he lead Hayter down the newly revealed stairs.

It was a large open room wooden floors, wooden walls, wooden ceilings and wooden stairs. Vintage wines were lined up against the wall behind a counter set up underneath the stairs serving as a makeshift bar, a couple of barstools stood next to it but most of the room was empty, the tables and chairs that would have been set up on the floor stacked neatly to the sides of the room leaving a wide open stage.

It certainly looked a suitable place for whatever friendly competition Lucius was planning though.

Two men who looked a lot more like the typical mobster Hayter had been picturing sat at the bar doing shots. They both sat up with a start when they noticed Hayter and Lucius entering.

‘Hello boys, working hard are we?’ Lucius asked his friendly smile suddenly looking sinister.

‘N-No. I mean… Yeah! Yeah! We were just taking a lunch break or something, right?’ one of the men, a slightly overweight gentleman with thinning hair stammered.

‘Oh yeah, just a break,’ said the other a weasely-looking man who spoke in a harsh grating Boston accent.

While the smile stayed firmly upon his face the sinister aura dropped away from it as Lucius said, ‘Well, I’ll overlook it this time since this works out quite well. One of you go up to my room and get the black case on my bedside table, the other will stay here and will serve as the referee for the game we’re about to play.’

At the mention of a “game” a greedy look appeared in both of their eyes. Snapping into action the weasel man shot up the stairs while the other one approached Lucius and Hayter licking his lips like a wolf eyeing his prey.

‘Usual rules?’ the balding man asked.

‘Yes,’ Lucius replied.

Hayter’s eyes narrowed. ‘This better be fair,’ he warned.

Lucius waved away his concerns, ‘It will be completely fair. Basically we will be fighting each other with knives. You will be welcome to inspect both our knives to ensure no foul play.’

‘I’m assuming this isn’t a fight to the death…’

Lucius laughed, ‘Oh no, not at all. Although that might be fun its own way, I assure you that death will not be intentionally involved. The rules will be as follows.’

Lucius held up three fingers, curling one he said, ‘One: The first person to draw blood wins.’ Another finger curled up, ‘Two: Should one of us accidentally or purposefully kill the other the offending competitor will be executed for the crime by the referee.’ The weasel man watching sneered at Hayter like he was daring Hayter to try it.

Lucius lowered his hand, ‘Three: Apart from where two is applicable we both agree that neither of us or our respective families, or gang in your case, will seek retribution for any injuries sustained in the course of the fight. Simple, yes?’

Hayter considered the proposition. It certainly didn’t seem to be rigged in any obvious ways, except that Hayter had no one here to ensure that in the event of Lucius killing him Lucius would actually be executed. However Hayter doubted the grinning idiot would be able to kill him. The real danger would be if Lucius’s skills weren’t up to the same par as Hayter’s and Hayter accidentally landed a fatal blow.

…landed a fatal blow…

‘Hmm?’ he cocked his head as he thought over the rules again, a plan beginning to form in his head.

As he thought Lucius removed his top and stood wearing only a tank top. He began stretching his muscles as they waited for the man who went to collect their weapons returned. He lacked Hayter’s muscular physique but still possessed a wiry strength.

‘I wonder what is taking Misha so long,’ Lucius said as he finished stretching about a minute later. Misha was apparently the weasel-ish man who went to get the knives. ‘Ah, speak of the devil,’ he finished as the door to the cellar was pulled back.

Except it wasn’t just Misha who walked in, about a dozen other men of all different shapes and sizes entered as well. Hayter heard Lucius sigh and whisper under his breath, ‘I was hoping to avoid a spectacle…’

Misha placed the black case he was carrying on the bar and began whispering to the overweight man who stayed behind. After conferring with each other Misha turned to the eager onlookers and shouted, ‘Alright, folks! We’ve got three to one odds on Lucy winning and eight to one odds on the stranger. Put your bets in quick!’

The audience began shouting their bets. Most bets were placed on Lucius but a couple bet on Hayter, although it seemed like they were more interested in the larger pay out then having any real confidence that Hayter would win. Ignoring the hubbub Lucius said to Hayter, ‘Feel free to inspect the knives. We’ll begin when you’re ready.’

Hayter nodded, walking over to the case and opening it. Inside nestled on velvet were six switchblades. Each one appeared identical with a matte black grip and shining silver blade about as long as Hayter’s middle finger. Picking each one up he inspected them carefully checking to make sure they were all equally sharp and that they weren’t weighted differently or had been somehow tampered with.

After satisfying himself that the weapons were all above board Hayter chose one of the blades and returned to his position near the centre of the room. Lucius stepped forward and took one knife from the case, however as he stepped away he left it open so that Hayter could confirm that there were still four of the blades inside.

Hayter made a couple of practice stabs and muttered, ‘It’s lighter then I’m used to…’

‘I could get you something with more heft to it. Wouldn’t want you to have an excuse for losing,’ Lucius sneered.

‘Nah, this will do.’ While it was light he wasn’t sure if it was because he was used to the combat knife he’d trained with in the army or if it just seemed that way because of his prosthetics. It was odd to think that while he was holding the knife it was not him holding it.

As the shouting of bets came to an end, Hayter nodded and said, ‘I’m ready when you are.’

Lucius looked at him bemused, ‘You don’t want to take off that suit?’ Unlike Lucius, Hayter had not taken off his clothes and was still wearing the suit he’d been wearing since he arrived.

Hayter smiled thinly. ‘Nah, this will do,’ he repeated.

‘Suit yourself then. Tim, when you’re done, count us in.’

‘Rightio! Any last minute bets? No? Alright, let’s do this!’ the guy called Tim said, clapping his meaty hands.

‘On the count of three, okay?’

They both nodded.

‘One!’

Hayter lowered his stance and clasped the switchblade firmly in his hand.

‘Two!’

Lucius smiled.

‘Three!’

Hayter was moving before Tim finished saying the word. Dashing forward, covering the distance between them in two steps Hayter got inside his opponents guard, utilizing his smaller size to his advantage and struck the blade moving to bury itself in Lucius’s kidney. Lucius seeming to react more on instinct then with any conscience thought stepped to the side the knife passing by his side.

In the single instant that followed both opponents reassessed their positions. Hayter had his hand extended, his body lowered slightly as he bent forward. Lucius was standing to his right, the taller man in the process of stepping backwards trying to create some distance. His face that had until then been set in that annoying smile was now set in an expression of shock.

Then the instant passed and Hayter moved reversing his grip on the knife he swung the blade up and around aiming for Lucius’s jugular. Hayter was radiating bloodlust and seemed to be set on killing his opponent. The onlookers were unable to intervene though, according to the rules their side had laid out, only actually killing the opponent was banned, Hayter could attempt it as much as he wanted.

Lucius pulled back further the knife whistling past his neck. He may have been planning to counterattack but Hayter wouldn’t give him the chance. Letting his momentum move him he swung behind Lucius and tried to stab into his back but he just barely missed again as Lucius leapt forward rolling to his feet a couple of meters away. He wasn’t safe though as in a second Hayter was on him again. The knife seemed to cut the very air apart as it passed Lucius’s nose.

Lucius was slowing down; the exhaustion from constantly defending against a storm of movement was wearing on him. During the still moments between attacks when the world seemed to stop moving Hayter watched his opponents expression move past shock and onto fear. After all, if Lucius slipped up there was a very good chance Hayter would kill him, and even if that meant Lucius would technically win, victory wasn’t worth dying for.

“Now!” Until then Hayter had been moving through attacks seamlessly never coming from the same direction twice. Now though he interrupted his attack pattern and stabbed out towards Lucius’s heart. He was worried that he had overplayed his hand a bit but Lucius took the bait apparently so relieved to have the opportunity to counterattack he hadn’t noticed Hayter’s unnatural movements.

Lucius dived to the side and lashed out with his own knife. It tore through Hayter’s jacket and shirt, striking his arm and running along it. It was a definite cut, the fight was over.

Hayter barely contained the smirk that rose to his lips as he quickly covered the tear in his clothes so no one noticed what lay beneath it. Seeing Hayter lower his arm and stop fighting Lucius naturally assumed he’d won. Turning to face the other in his family he shouted, ‘Vittoria per la famiglia!’ revelling in his victory.

Some of the onlookers groaned as they realised that greed had made them lose money while the majority cheered. Nobody noticed Hayter dropping his supposedly cut arm and raising it up. Compared to his previous assault where he’d seemed to be trying to kill Lucius he was almost nonchalant as he ran the knife across the taller man’s bicep.

A thin trail of blood welled up from the wound and began lazily trickling from the wound. Lucius noticing the pain looked down at the cut on his arm and realised what had happened. Instantly the mood changed, any warmth in the room disappeared and the onlookers all drew their handguns from their waist and aimed it at Hayter.

Lucius turned to Hayter slowly, a dour expression on his face, the friendly smile he’d shown before a distant memory. ‘I believe I said quite clearly, there will be no retribution from either of us for any injuries sustained in the fight. I cut you so you cut me, is that it? Nobody likes a sore loser, bastard.’

Hayter did not look particularly perturbed to be surrounded by men threatening to kill him. While he did drop the knife he was holding he showed no other signs of being kowtowed by the display. ‘The fight wasn’t over.’

‘Huh?’ Lucius asked incredulously.

‘The rules for winning… It was… “This first person to draw blood,” wasn’t it? Well you didn’t draw blood.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Lucius was about to give the order for his men to fire when he noticed that there was no blood on Hayter’s suit. Suspicious he reached forward and tore open the sleeve to check the wound, inside all he saw was smooth metal… There was a thin scratch on the metal proof that Lucius had indeed landed a blow on him. ‘Take it off,’ he ordered Hayter.

Hayter complied silently; he started by removing the glove on his hand exposing the metal prosthesis hiding under his clothes. As he moved to pull off the other glove Lucius held up his hand signalling him to stop.

There was silence in the room for a few seconds. Then there was a chuckle. Finally Lucius burst into laughter, clasping his stomach. ‘Ha, ha, ha! I like you Michael Hayter! Let’s talk business.’

 They had moved to an office, Hayter was sitting on a sofa while he waited for Lucius to return. Now that he had a moment to himself he let out a relieved sigh. For a few minutes there he wasn’t sure how things were going to go. Especially his first move had been risky, if his opponents abilities weren’t up to par he may have accidentally killed him.

Luckily things had played out more or less how he wanted them to. In the past he hadn’t been particularly good at hand to hand. There was a time he and Fisher had gotten into a fight during training and Hayter had his ass handed to him. Since joining with the Bleeders though he’d been trying to improve his combat abilities, training with Mobo had paid off here.

‘Sorry for the wait,’ Lucius said as he opened the door and entered ending Hayter’s introspection. He was fully dressed again. ‘I was just applying a bandage. I still can’t believe I lost…’

‘It was a rather dirty trick though,’ Hayter tried to reassure him.

Lucius shook his head, ‘There is no such thing as a dirty trick, only strategy. Your strategy was flawless and bested any attempts to beat it. I thought with my skills at knife-play and my experience in those contests it was decided I’d win… I have paid the price for that hubris,’ he smiled, not the friendly, aggravating smile he’d worn before, but a rueful one.

Hayter didn’t reply, he felt if he continued trying to play down his victory he would be dishonouring the other man he’d fought with. If no one liked a sore loser then they obviously didn’t appreciate a poor winner.

Lucius either didn’t notice or didn’t mind his conversation partner’s reticence. Walking across the room to a shelf next to the desk he removed a small wooden box from it and returned, sitting across from the Hayter in an armchair.

‘Remove your clothes,’ he said suddenly.

‘Huh?’

Hayter doubted his ears, he had heard correctly though as Lucius repeated, ‘Your clothes remove them.’ Noticing Hayter’s continued lack of comprehension Lucius added, ‘I’ll patch them up; I cut them after all.’

Hayter looked down at the tear in the sleeve of his jacket and shirt. He had completely forgotten about that. Lucius was taking out a small sewing kit and was expertly threading some thread through the eye of a needle.

‘I’m a rather spectacular seamstress if I do say so myself.’

Figuring he had nothing to lose Hayter took off the top half of his clothes and handed them over to the self-proclaimed seamstress. As Lucius got to work with repairs he began speaking, ‘Now, although I did say we should talk business you will have to talk to our boss. They aren’t here right now, but we can set up a meeting.’

‘I half expected you to say that you were the boss all along,’ Hayter said, his skin prickling from the cold air.

Lucius laughed loudly at that, ‘Oh, no. I am nothing more than an underling. I do not have the ability to lead us…’ While he was still smiling he looked a little melancholic as he talked. ‘No, I’m afraid that while I may be able to see to the day to day running of the family, I am not qualified to lead.’

Hayter thought of James Secretan. While he saw to the basic day to day running of the Royal Bleeders he lacked the charisma to actually move anyone to action, they all followed Brenton for one reason or another. Was this a similar situation? But from what he’d seen Lucius certainly seemed like he was the charismatic sort.

‘Anyway, we should set a date. I’m sure you’d like to be back in England for Christmas to celebrate with your gang,’ Lucius continued. He’d finished sewing up Hayter’s jacket and had moved onto his shirt. Hayter had to admit that Lucius was good at this, it was almost impossible to tell there had been a rip in the first place. ‘Speaking of I still have to find out what the young miss is planning for Christmas… Hopefully she’ll bring some friends her own age over to celebrate for once…’ He appeared to be talking to himself so Hayter ignored him.

‘I’m not in a real rush to get back for Christmas, but…’ he thought of the phone call the night before. His fingers curled up into a fist, ‘… I would like to get back as quickly as possible.’

‘Hmm?’

Hayter had a sudden thought, these guys had done an in depth look into the gangs past, if Mars Company had started operating in London perhaps they had picked up something in their investigations. ‘Hey… Have you heard of a group called “Mars Company?”’ he asked slowly.

‘Hmm… No I can’t say I recall hearing of it…’

‘What about children going missing in London?’

‘Is this something to do with the little band of runaways your boss occasionally deals with?’

‘No… It’s nothing.’

Lucius studied him for a few seconds, his eyes searching for… something but he quickly gave up and returned to his task. ‘Alright done!’ He cut off the thread and handed the jacket and shirt back to Hayter who put them back on. They may not have been well insulated but they kept the cold at bay better than nothing.

As he did this, Lucius returned the box of sewing equipment to its shelf and went over to the desk and retrieved a leather bound diary. Humming he said, ‘The earliest I can pencil you in would be… Sunday morning, your meeting would have to take place during morning Mass but…’

Hayter shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’d be right for me to attend.’

‘Why? Are you an atheist or something? Because I don’t exactly believe in an old man in the clouds either, it’s more like… tradition. It’s something we do because we’ve always done it.’

‘No… I believe there is a Heaven and I believe in Hell. I believe there is a God that created all of this. I don’t think He’s worth worshipping though,’ Hayter admitted. ‘God may be our creator but that doesn’t mean we should show appreciation for someone who stands by and lets us kill and hurt each other.’

‘Hmm… Well, the next time we have available would be… Tuesday evening. Sometime after five?’

Hayter nodded, confirming the time. Still… it would have been nice to get this over with quickly… He was worried about how things were progressing back home.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

FFF and Christmas Announcement

Five Fun Facts will be temporarily put on hold until the next year starts. I need to do a LOT of writing over the Christmas season since I’ll be releasing multiple chapters all within a short period of time. I’ll save revealing my exact plans for another time because I have quite a bit I WANT to do, the question will be if I have the time.

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

FFF, vol: 14 - The Incredibly Belated Entry

Welcome to FFF volume 14! First let met start off with apologies for missing so many release dates for this recently. However hopefully moving it to Saturday will keep my mind on track. Now let's get into this! We’ll be looking at 006% again this week. We'll be focusing on Mars Company and possibly the ! Get ready to hear some extra details, my thoughts on the series and characters and why I wrote things certain ways.

1: Coming up with the name I knew I wanted it to somehow relate to war. I did toy with a Metal Gear reference and call them the Patriots or something but in the end I decided to go the classic Roman mythology route.

2:Coming up with their logo was a lot more difficult because I made a huge mistake while coming up with it. In the story their logo is a blood red boars head, originally it was going to be a blood red rams head.

3: As the story says, Mars Company's logo is based upon Ares, the Greek version of Mars, hence the boars head.

4: My mistake was confusing Ares the Greek god and Aries the constellation. Well, I didn't confuse them per se. I thought they were the same thing. So I was going for a rams head design thinking, "Well Aries if represented by the ram." This is a good lesson on always fact checking things. I've had a couple of other saves thanks to fact checks but I'll get into those another time.

5:People may think this is the first chapter that has the titular device, "The Probability Engine," in it. However I can assure you that it has appeared before and since. In fact it appears twice in 006% alone.

What does the Probability Engine do? Why does it exist? How does it relate to this story of child kidnapping? I'm afraid you'll have to find out much later. For now though I hope you continue enjoying the story and if you have any theories on what the Probability Engine might be feel free to tell me about them. If you manage to get it spot on I'll inform you, you are correct. Anyway, look forward to the next one where we will be discussing... Well let's see. I need to read through my notes again and refresh myself. See you later!

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

Again?

I forgot to do an FFF again?!

Alright, since I’m obviously unable to remember to write it on Wednesday, I think I’ll move it to Saturday. From now on FFF is on Saturday!

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

011%

Hayter got out of the cab and stretched. It had taken almost an hour to drive to the manor he found himself standing outside. This was the base of the people he’d come to negotiate with, the Fiero Family. From what he’d learned they were a branch of a Sicilian group, however while the group back home in Sicily had been crushed, this American based faction had continued to operate in relative peace in New York, primarily controlled by the Five Families.

‘Still, it’s a lot different than our base,’ he muttered, thinking of the two story bar/office that the Bleeders owned.

While the manor was certainly impressive, Hayter couldn’t see it as any more than an exorbitant waste of wealth. Something seemed odd though; he was under the impression that while the Fiero family was an established group they were not particularly prominent. If they were, the Five Families would not have allowed them to continue to operate.

‘Still… if they can afford a place like this, they must be making a fair bit…’ standing outside wasn’t going to help him solve this discrepancy in facts, so he walked up to the gate and located a small intercom off to one side.

Pressing the button on the intercom he didn’t have to wait long before he was answered. ‘I’m afraid we aren’t accepting visitations right now. Please come again another day,’ a feminine voice said.

‘I’m… here to see Lucius. He should be expecting me,’ Hayter recited. When he’d been given the date, time and address of the meeting, almost as an after-thought the broker helping to set up this meeting had mentioned that should he be stopped, deliver that phrase.

Silence followed. He was just beginning to think this might have been some elaborate prank. With his temper starting to flare he was considering what he should do to that information broker when Hayter next saw him only to have his violent musings interrupted by the female voice returning.

‘Sorry for the delay. Mister Michael Hayter, representing the Royal Bleeders, correct?’

‘Yeah,’ he growled. This was already a pain and he hadn’t even met this guy he was negotiating with yet. The broker wasn’t in the clear yet…

With a rather startling blarp noise, the gates opened, rolling back smoothly. Glancing around himself once more, unsure how he should proceed Hayter stepped forward and decided to make for the front doors. If he was supposed to go somewhere else surely someone would stop him. The gates closed behind him with the same automated efficiency with which they’d opened.

As he walked across the stone driveway towards the manor he couldn’t help taking the place in. Sure the marble house was impressive the front lawn was also well maintained. Neatly trimmed, small hedges lined the driveway he was currently following, further back, in staggered lines were larger hedges in a concertina pattern. Randomly dotted among those were topiaries in abstract shapes, or maybe they were supposed to be animals but whoever had trimmed them was not that good.  

The walk to the front door served to warm up his body as the chill winter air blew through his suit, like it wasn’t there. “We might see snow this Christmas,” he murmured as he pushed open the large double doors and stepped inside the manor, proper.

The interior of the manor, while as opulent as the outside, had a much more minimalist style to it. Hayter had been expecting to find enormous oil canvases and suits of armour inside. There was none of that, if one was to be critical they would call the furnishings “sparse,” however what was there was clearly expensive.

‘Mister Hayter,’ called a voice he recognised from the intercom. A woman with long blonde hair done in a ponytail dressed in a business suit walked towards him from a room off to the side. Stopping in front of him she bowed her head, the way the woman acted reminded him of a maid one might find in an English drama. ‘Again, I hope you will forgive the delay.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Hayter looked away, he felt uncomfortable being treated like some high society dick. ‘It was only a minute at most anyway.’

The woman tilted her head, considering his statement before saying. ‘Ah, yes. Master Lucius will see you now. I am afraid I have some duties to take care of so if you will see yourself to the library on the second floor Master Lucius is waiting for you there. It is the first door on your right after you climb the stairs behind me.’ Bowing once again the woman stepped past him and out the door.

Hayter was getting more and more confused about this supposed crime family. Sure the Royal Bleeders were an atypical gang, but something about this place smelled fishy. A relatively unknown crime family somehow able to afford a manor, a businesswomen who acted like a maid, rather sparse furnishing for a place that must have cost an arm and a leg. It didn’t take his almost sixth sense level to detect danger to tell him this place was off. Still, he’d come all the way here, he couldn’t just turn around and head home with his tail between his legs.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt he made his way across the foyer and up the stairs following the businessmaid’s instructions.

Reaching what he assumed was the right door he knocked briefly before opening it, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Inside were shelves filled to bursting with books, a quick glance at the titles revealed an apparent lack of organisation. The Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft sat next to Oliver Twist, beside that was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and then of all things,  Blitzer Algebra and Trigonometry, 4th Edition.

The walls on either side were filled with shelves, a large bay window stood opposite him, letting natural light filter into the room, and sitting in the middle of it was a round table probably with a radius of two feet around it were a number of soft leather chairs and sitting in one was, Hayter had to assume, the man he was there to see.

He was young, probably early twenties. His hair was a tawny colour; it framed his face perfectly and contrasted his dark brown eyes that were looking up at him. A lazy smile appeared on his lips as he beckoned to one of the chairs beside him.

Accepting the silent invitation Hayter walked across the room and sat down opposite the man who was slowly scratching numbers into a heavy book bound in red leather. Hayter waited silently, fidgeting slightly in the unnecessarily soft chair, until the man laid down his pen, closed his book and looked up at him, with the same lazy expression he’d worn since Hayter had walked in.

‘You must be Michael Hayter? My name is Neil Lucius, I am a… representative of the Fiero Family,’ the man spoke with a Boston accent, he was clearly a local but he spoke slowly, his words measured something Hayter didn’t usually associate with Boston inhabitants.

‘A representative?’ Hayter asked, frowning. He had been aware he hadn’t been meeting the boss but he had figured he would be meeting with an executive or something, someone who could make decisions at least.

‘Mmm…’ Lucius nodded. ‘Our family is in a rather… unique situation,’ he seemed to be choosing his words extremely carefully. Hayter couldn’t tell if he was just a cautious man or if he was trying to hide something. ‘For the most part I run the business side of things, as well as taking care of the books… Ah, I mean the accounts not this library.’ It was extremely hard to tell if the man had been trying to tell a joke or not since that annoying smile never left his face. ‘If you are worried whether I have the authority to negotiate with you then I assure you I am more than qualified.’

‘Am I that easy to see through?’ Hayter asked. He was confident in his poker face yet this bizarrely lethargic man had been able to tell what he was thinking.

‘Not at all. I merely thought that if I were in your shoes I would be wondering if this bizarre “representative” was actually capable of negotiating on behalf of his family,’ Lucius smiled again but this time there was something darker in it. ‘However we are not negotiating today.’

‘Huh?’ Hayter growled.

Seeming to wake up a bit and gain more energy Lucius, straightened up in his chair. ‘As I said, we find ourselves in a unique situation. As such we are rather cautious about meeting new people. Our… vetting process is rather involved. We like to examine the organisations and most importantly the people we meet with.’

Picking up a folder that Hayter hadn’t remembered seeing before, Lucius flipped through the pages, ‘The Royal Bleeders, a London based gang started in the Industrial Revolution. While originally a nameless movement it took on the name it currently goes by from a quote supposedly given by the founder of the movement, Kenneth Nattily. “We will bleed the Royals dry just as they have bled us.” Disbanding during the early 1900’s it was resurrected by the grandfather of the current leader of the group during the Great Depression, who used it as his own private army. He was sentenced to life in jail on a number of charges from extortion, to murder, to… what is buggery?’

Hayter shrugged his shoulders at the unexpected question. ‘Some Brit thing. I hear people saying bugger all the time…’ Lucius let out a disinterested, hmmm, before returning to his reading.

‘After a few decades of internal power struggles, Brenton Perchensky the current leader took over. He has since moved the group far away from its rather violent recent history and more towards its original purpose of “sticking it” to the one percent. Currently the group is engaged in rather small time crime, minor larceny, piracy and drug dealing, although it seems that you only offer marijuana…’

Hayter kept his face relaxed as his mind raced. Who were these people? The more he saw the more of an enigma they became.

‘Your group has… for the most part passed our little vetting process. The problem is: you.’

‘Me?’ Hayter asked, his eyes narrowing threateningly.

Flipping through the notes in his folder Lucius began speaking again, ‘Your father was a policeman, killed in the line of duty two months before you were born. Your mother was an art critic, who died during the nine eleven attacks on board one of the planes that crashed into the twin towers. Until that point you had been studying law, with plans to become a prosecutor.’ He stopped reading for a second and looked up at Hayter with a cruel grin on his face. ‘Wanted to follow in Daddy’s footsteps enforcing the law but didn’t to worry Mommy being on the front lines?’

The old… or in this case the young Hayter would have beaten the impertinent whelp to within an inch of his life for that. However age had mellowed him quite a bit and the only sign of any anger came from the slight curling of his fingers into a fist.

Perhaps dissatisfied with Hayter’s lack of response Lucius continued his speech, ‘Dropping out of law school you entered into the military, your left training at the top of your class in marksmanship and endurance and were offered a fast pass to becoming an officer. You declined and went to Afghanistan as just another grunt… A rather interesting choice… However and here is the problem, things start to become hazy and rather dirty. You were assigned to the Second Infantry Division... now they did some very nasty stuff…’

‘My unit was not involved in that,’ Hayter spat.

‘So you say,’ Lucius said with a friendly smile that was really starting to get on Hayter’s nerves. ‘Speaking of your unit, they were all wiped out. You were shipped back home partway through your first tour… and then you drop off the face of the Earth. We searched extensively but the next confirmed sighting we have of you is two years ago, working as Brenton’s muscle.’

Lucius shook his head. ‘That’s just not going to cut it. You see we need complete transparency if we are even going to consider working with you. We did extensive checks on every member in your gang but you were the only one who stinks. Metaphorically, I mean.’

Letting the jab slide Hayter glared at the smiling little bastard. Complete transparency? Extensive checks? What the hell was all this? ‘Why should we jump through these hoops for you?’ he growled.

‘Like I said, we have unique circumstances. Exposing ourselves to you, or to anyone really, carries certain risks and we are simply trying to lower those risks as much as possible.’

‘So, what? You want my autobiography?’ he drawled sarcastically.

‘If you have it on hand that would be great,’ Lucius answered. ‘However our family has an old saying. “Il modo più semplice per imparare la misura di un uomo è quello di combattere contro di lui.” The easiest way to learn the measure of a man is to fight him.’

Lucius leaned forward, his easy smile slipping into a self-satisfied smirk. ‘What do you say to a little friendly competition?’

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

Apologies!

I just realised that I didn’t do a FFF this week. Unfortunately I’ve been busy writing the main series and I’ve been a bit lacking in sleep lately plus a bit stressed with renovating my house. So consider this week cancelled. Next week will be the next entry, unless I forget that as well. In which case... I’ll get it all back together as soon as I can.

Seriously, though, sorry! I promise the next chapter will be on time. This Monday, check it out!

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

Halloween 2016 Story

Here it is, the Halloween story. As I’ve mentioned previously, while I will not be strictly moderating it (I figure you are all capable of deciding if you are old enough to read something), I would personally recommend being more mature. This story contains some pretty intense violence, depictions of assault and some sexually explicit material.

For those who are still open to reading the story you will find the story here:

http://theprobabilityengine.deviantart.com/art/Halloween-2016-People-are-the-Real-Monsters-643080724

Happy Halloween all. Now I really need to get back to writing the Main Chapter...

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

FFF, vol: 13 - Not Sesame Street

Welcome to FFF volume 13! This week we'll be looking at 006%. Specifically two minor characters, the security guards Bert and Ernie! Get ready to hear some extra details, my thoughts on the series and characters and why I wrote things certain ways.

   1:As soon as I thought of the idea of these two security guards I knew they would be called Bert and Ernie. Who doesn’t know that bizarre puppet pair from Sesame Street? I did think about calling them Biggs and Wedge, but I decided against it. Who knows, a Biggs and a Wedge may turn up somewhere else...

   2:As soon as I knew I wanted them to be called Bert and Ernie I just started brainstorming what their full names could be. In the end I settled on Bertholdt Cummings and Ernest Smith. I got Bertholdt from Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin), Ernest has just been a name I’ve liked, like Aubrey, Avery, Miles and Patrick.

   3:In the chapter we only see Ernie. Bert is away during the chapter because his wife went into labour. By the end of 009%, Benjamin Cummings is born.

   4:Ernie used to instruct at a martial arts dojo, however when it went under his old friend from college Bert, offered to introduce him to the place he’d been working, Eoin’s lab. While he’s let himself go a bit his skills are still up to the par. Bert, for his part did boxing in high school.

   5:Ernie has a rather distinct accent in the story. This was done partly because... I was worried the characters all sounded the same. I tend to talk to myself to try to come up with “natural” seeming conversations for stories but I worry that because they are all basically my voice speaking my words that the characters are indistinguishable from one another. I may have gone a bit over board on Ernie though...

   Next week we’ll be covering Mars Company and some of the mistakes I made while coming up with the big bad guys. It’s gonna be a little embarrassing for me, so I hope you’ll enjoy it.