PRESENT TIME
"Paladin-Confessor, we are nearing the killing zone!" A voice called from the bow of the submersible motorboat vehicle.
The black-and-gold Tier-6 [[www.wanderers-library.wikidot.com/the-whoremongers-of-misty-mountain|Protectorate]] opened his eyes, revealing brown rhytmically glowing irises. The sky above this region currently has no cloud coverage, however, at further east it was thickly obscured. It does not concern him for now because their objective was not located there, but in the depths beneath the surface of the ocean before them.
He stood from his seat and walked past his crouched fellow Protectorates, who were subordinated under his command. Like them, he, too, possessed a golden crucifix affixed to his right shoulder, as well as a large rosary of the same color that was wound around their waists. The back plate of the Praetorian Battle Gear he wore, powered with Empyrean Arcane Energy, glistened under the sunlight after the star of the planet's system rose above the islet behind them.
He arrived behind the Tier-5 Tribune-Commander and placed a hand over his shoulder.
"Submerge below, Trailblazer." He ordered at the Protectorate in red and grey Battle Gear, who complied with the instruction without hesitation. He reached for a button in the console before him and, in an instant, a transparent canopy enveloped the exposed part of the motorboat and plunged below the surface.
Beneath the ocean, it was nothing but a murky world populated with small creatures the size of a malnourished swine that possessed six tentacles that flailed around. In the middle of the circular lifeform was a mouth that hid rows of sharp teeth. Blackshot glanced at the creature with awe and fascination and briefly said, "Battle Computer, identify."
"Creature-7462/XXDF-18, inhabitant of Triton's Dread, herbivore. No information further available. A robotic voice replied to him. Blackshot could not help but to be astonished at the lifeforms that the Father created. The school of tentacled-herbivores simply floated past the submersible as they descend deeper into the darkest depths.
"Heads up, Confessor." Trailblazer nodded at the view beyond. "Seems like the rest of the Steel Paladins Protectorate Regiment has arrived here."
"Where's the rest of our Regiment?" Blackshot asked as he frowned, which soon evolved into a glare.
"The rest of the Enochian Guards were still translating from Realm-3. Unfortunately, Confessor, the only Enochian Guards there are were what's left of the Forward Force."
"Shit," Blackshot muttered. Beyond, the view illuminated sporadically, tell tale signs of an underwater vessel-to-vessel engagement. His enhanced eyesights allowed him to see much, but the visibility was very low that he could not completely see through behind the veil of sea particles and dust.
To their left, an array of submersible motorboat vehicles, or SMVs, moved in a formation alongside a spear-shaped vessel. The starboard was ornamented with a heraldry that Blackshot recognized as an insignia identified with a revered angelic legion: The Legion of the Weeping Martyrs. Blackshot remembered the fearsome Malakhs of that Legion, whose faceplates were decorated to appear as if they were weeping blood. Portrayed as such, they were, as expected, subservient not only to the Martyrs themselves, but to the Blessed Lady who had displayed miracles before in the form of statues weeping both tears and blood, recorded before the Armageddon Judgment on New Jerusalem, then-Earth.
To the right, other spear-shaped vessels that possessed the same insignia moved in a formation, accompanied by SMVs, mirroring the formation of the opposing fleet. Blackshot was currently unsure what they were planning to do, but the fact that there was engagement beyond might only mean that these vessels are going to reinforce their belleaguered brethrens.
"What are your orders, Confessor?" Trailblazer suddenly asked. Blackshot watched a three-eyed, sleek, midnight black selachian sped vertically from below towards the surface. He did not flinch, but the sudden jumpscare had put him on edge in an instant. After realizing that no threat would occur any second now, he eased.
"Remember the mission, brother. Full speed ahead towards the direction of the Vulgar Heretic."
"Affirmative, brother." Trailblazer replied as he accelerated the speed of the SMV after a few key strokes. The SMV was operated differently, as it was only manipulated through the user's input of progammable (and modifiable) code commands.
The SMV sped through a thick mist of sea particulates as it entered the designated killing zone. A trio of transparent, gelatinous, elongated creature sped across the view, emitting a cry of distress as if they were escaping something. Blackshot did not pay it any attention.
Beyond was a colossal structure of steel, concrete and flesh. From an unobserving eye, it could just be mistaken as a part of a marine rock formation, but the fact that it appeared like a snarling Oni does not imply coincidence to be ignored as a mere natural formation. The hollowed eye sockets of the gigantic hulk was staring straight directly at Blackshot. Its mouth, stretched in a hostile manner, revealed fangs that could impale a Titan as if they were made of butter.
One side of the structure was lit up in clusters of detonations as angelic and Protektovare vessels made a strafing run across its surface. Demonic SMVs fought back, supported by their alien ally, whose leadership had devoted themselves to the fractured army of the dead Lucifer, after false promises of power and wisdom. Blackshot made a fist in front of his face and pumped it downwards. His suit whined in reply as it detected the gesture, prompting it to envelope his face in his headgear, which was part of his back and chest plate.
"Prepare for boarding actions, brothers." The Paladin-Confessor said as he pulled his Blast Rifle magnetically attached on his back. He received replies of affirmatives in unison.
As they approach the Vulgar Heretic, a powerful roar was suddenly heard from the eastern theatre of the front. Blackshot frowned as he turned to its direction. It also caught the attention of Trailblazer, who momentarily lost control of the SMV but regained it instantly.
A dozen of lights could be seen. It was very large that Blackshot thought that elements from Battlegroup Benjamin, their mother fleet, has finally arrived from Realm Translation and had descended to join the fight. However, another roar was heard, so loud and powerful that the SMV was slightly sent off-direction from its destination path. What followed next was the visage of a gigantic angular snout with rows of sharp teeth, much larger than the ones found on Vulgar Heretic. The single eye above the snout was glowing in yellow; a cyclopean giant reptile. However, another head possessing the same feature appeared, and then another, and another, until there were nine of them.
"It's a Child of a Leviathan!" Blackshot screamed. Leviathans were ancient primordial force that predated the dawn of man, and became extinct before humanity learned how to write but not completely extinguished. They were seen as anomalies occuring across the Hourglass Multiverse. Some of them were in the form of darkness that consumes to no end while some were planetoids that rammed everything across its path; or the most scariest of them all, Leviathans that appeared as grotesquely shaped nebulas that simply "assimilates" planet sectors with no pattern, disintegrating them to dust as time goes by.
Hell, located on Realm-12, was the corpse of the First Leviathan, who was personally slain by the Holy Ghost. As punishment for Lucifer's rebellion, it became his prison—a humiliation that the Father disowned him and likened him to the creatures that they previously fought against.
When a Leviathan dies, its bodies scatter across planets, realms and star systems, which became autonomous and gained lives of their own, albeit, dumbed down since they were observed to only act on basic instinct like feeding itself or seeking hunting grounds. These "alive" parts were termed by the angelic choirs, and eventually the Protectorates, as "Children of the Leviathans", since they came from Leviathans themselves. And upon destroying a Child of a Leviathan, they break into much more smaller parts that could only exist inside planets with atmosphere. These iterations were simply called, "Leviathan Device".
As such, they do not have any allegiance with both Heaven and Hell, and an appearance of one would only mean big problems.
"Maintain your heading towards Vulgar Heretic!" Blackshot yelled, his mechanical voice filled the interior of the SMV. "We do not have much time for dealing with a Leviathan Child!"
"But Confessor, the Leviathan Child will intercept us; it's now making its way towards our direction!"
"What?" Blackshot asked. He glanced at the creature once more…
…his last view of the world was the snout of one of its heads ramming straight towards the SMV.
Now
The piece of rubble was crushed underneath by an armored boot connected to a battle suit. Its wearer did not paid it any heed as his helmeted head swivelled from left to right, surveying the red hued environment caused by what appeared to be a universal-ending scenario.
The soldier moved forward, his pace was calm. His fellow troopers in the same battle suit as he followed closely, awestruck at the devastation wrought around them. Structures were stripped bare down to their very foundations. Tall skyscrapers fell and laid to the ground, their positions were like mountains in the horizon. Small storefronts and office complexes were reduced to nothing but ashes and dust. There was not a single trace of civilization in this realm, because if one was not attentive enough, he would have missed the blackened skeletons that were either half buried or half melted on the dusty ground.
It was a pitiful sight, to think that twenty four hours ago, this realm of existence was teeming with life. Now, all that remains were firestorms and ghosts, if there was such a thing.
The leader of the small detachment thought that they have scoured the area enough that he raised his left upwards, revealing the yellow vertical strip of paint that bisected his shoulder guard by the middle, indicating his importance. The soldiers halted all at once, perhaps their leader found something of importance?
One curious trooper turned to his fellow and nodded low enough for the others not to hear.
"What the hell are we still doing here? That thing might still be lurking around!" He asked.
"This was the last whereabouts of the Adam Unit." His companion replied. "Command wanted to know if it, no, if he managed to capture the Serpent. Seems like he failed."
"What's gonna happen if all of these came to full circle?" A third one joined as he crept behind the two unnoticed, almost making them jump. "I mean, this was like the nth time that we visited a ravaged realm!"
"If that happens and the Serpent becomes powerful enough, the multiverse is fucked." The second one replied. "Sarge was already worried. I heard from my cousin in the Tribunary Corps that the Adam Unit had gone rogue and probably letting all of this simply happen. They were thinking about sending a second Adam Unit to terminate the Serpent, as well as the renegade Adam Unit but the Sarge plead for his case."
"What's the relationship between this Adam Unit that we are trying to catch and the Sarge?" The first one asked.
"Probably because the Sarge was previously in the Eve Unit, but that was another topic for another day. Oh, here she comes."
"You three!" The Sarge pointed at them. "Why are you loitering about? Didn't you heard my instruction? Provide overwatch for the squad and be on the lookout."
"Yes, sir!" They replied as they scattered to three different directions. The Sarge simply turned towards a building that was a reminiscent of an apartment block. It appeared to be three stories high, but all that remains were foundations on its four sides and the lower ground where the tiered floors had overlapped with one another. Without hesitation, she hoisted herself up on the higher ground and scanned the environment.
Broken pieces of furniture: bed, tables, bottles of whiskey, and the toilet bowl. A tiny locket glimmered under the red-fogged sky, catching her attention. The Sarge's hand instinctively went to the same locket around her neck and caressed it with armored fingertips. Her eyes went to the mattress of the bed, where what seemed to be an unbroken cassette tape could be seen, an object which was very out of place.
Without word, she approached it and activated the device. It was still functional to her surprise. She listened on the audio log recorded within.
"Last iteration, 50. If you are listening to this, it only means that I failed, died, or both." A male monotonous voice with an authoritative tone began. "A system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked. The relationship of the realms in the multiverse where one possibility of existence coexist with another. The Watch was never tired of protecting it, mainly because no one was willing to. The responsibility was too heavy to bear, too big to carry. It was another day where another attempt was executed, restarting a failed opportunity to finally correct the failure done. Every sweat, every movements, every decision counts. The Theory of Predestination by Professor Engelbert in the Reality Physics Division which contradicted what The Watch believed is starting to make sense. Yes, the realms existed, but…no, I shouldn't think like that. I cannot let my anxiety pollute my faith. The Serpent had arrived in this realm. I found an opportunity to follow its trail and now, I have arrived here. He paused. "Iteration 51."
Then
"Iteration 51." He paused once more. "Proceeding to the Keaton's Eatery. End of report, end of report." He clicked the red button of the recorder and placed it on his bed.
He pressed his face against the heels of his palms and let out a sigh. The sound of vehicular acceleration was muffled by the distance outside his concrete apartment building. He stood up after a few seconds and approached the bottle of liquor on the round table in the middle of the room. He filled the tiny shot glass to the brim and drank all the contents without flinching. His thirst was not quenched; he refilled the glass and swigged it for the second time.
As soon as he had enough, he placed the bottle and the glass down. He approached the drawer on the left side of the room where a shiny briefcase was resting on the top of it. He flipped it open; a portable computer with a wide liquid display screen and a keyboard console beneath. He pressed a key, activating the dead screen at once and revealed the face of a silver-skinned humanoid face with a friendly smile.
"Hello, Seven-One-Four." The artificial intelligence greeted with a warm tone. "How can I be of assistance?"
"Iteration 50, notes." Seven-One-Four replied. The screen changed and displayed a text program detailing his previous actions, events and the discrepancies that occurred in the duration of his mission. He scrolled upwards, skipping the irrelevant scenes until it reached the very top of the text, where his arrival in the apartment was recorded. He blinked twice, pulling a wooden chair nearby and sitting in front of the portable computer.
"Seven-One-Four, I detected a growth in your heartbeat rate. May I know if you are alright?" The AI's voice inquired abruptly, breaking the silence that had emanated in the room.
"Yes," Seven-One-Four replied. "Just checking some discrepancies in case something had changed. And please, PAL, call me Adam."
"As you wish…Adam." The AI, PAL, replied before becoming silent.
After a few seconds of browsing, Adam terminated the program and revealed the face of the sentient program. He stood up from his seat and picked up the duffel bag on the floor to prepare for his departure.
"Found what you have looking for?"
"The pawn in a brown leather coat." Adam answered as he extracted a pistol from his bag. "That's what."
"Oh," PAL replied. "Have you considered other options?"
"No," Adam said. "We've tried other ways, but it seems like his survivability is required for the mission to continue on, and we don't have an infinite number of realms to place our bets on ill-fated choices." He cocked the upper slide of his pistol before releasing it. He holstered it behind his pants in a fluid motion.
"I understand." PAL said. "But it leads to—"
"I know," Adam cut him off. "I know, but I am already prepared, just like the first ones."
"I'll leave it to you, then."
"Shut down." Adam said. PAL deactivated. The man approached the laptop and shut it close. He picked it up by the handle and walked towards the door.
"Are you going to leave the recorder?" PAL asked all of a sudden.
Adam looked back at the recorder on the bed.
"Yes," Adam replied. He quietly pulled the locket from his pocket that he ceased wearing years ago and tossed it to the side. "Somebody's going to find it later. Besides, I've got two more."
A man with a short cropped hair pulled his brown leather coat tightly around his body to protect himself from the cruelty of the winter air. With a trembling hand, he placed the butt of his cigarette to his lip and dragged, exhaling a lungful of nicotine in the air. He tossed the spent stick to the trashcan beside him and scanned the sea of crowd around him for any familiar faces.
The train on the station began to leave the platform. Its sound reverberated across the area. Time to leave, he thought. The deal was over, the bastard stood him up. No point in sticking around any longer.
He squeezed his way past people in thick jackets and coats. He moved past a pub and stopped in the entrance of an alley between the pub and a steakhouse. Without hesitation, he made a turn to the left and walked with his hands now buried in his coat pockets. The man glanced sideways after hearing another pair of footsteps following him. He felt the grip of his pistol brush against his fingertips on his right hand. His heartbeat heightened every second.
"Listen, pal." The man said without looking. "I'm heading off to the same exit. I don't want any trouble, alright?"
"Should intermittent vengeance arm again his red right hand to plague us?!" His tail screamed in a guttural voice that made him turn. He caught sight of his pursuer's appearance; a tall man in black coat, shoulder-length hair and bright glowing eyes. From his hand was a stylized ritual dagger ready to rip his throat open. The man attempted to pull his gun and aim, only to be swatted away. Blood splattered against the wall, and he realized that his hand was cut.
"Shit!" He tripped on the ground and raised his bloodied hand as the attacker loomed over him.
A shot rang from behind and the attacker's eyes rolled backwards before hitting the ground with blood flowing from the back of his skull. At the entrance of the alley, a silhouette of a man pointing a gun could be seen. He sheathed his handgun and approached the man on the ground.
"Fuck!" Leather coat asked. "Who—you must be the specialist sent by the Unusual Incidents Unit." He stood up from the ground and brushed off the dust in his pants and coat with his uninjured hand. "What the hell took you so long?"
"Traffic." Adam replied. "Can you walk?"
"Do I looked like I got stabbed on the foot? Of course I can!" The man picked up his fallen weapon on the ground and pocketed it. He winced upon seeing his bleeding hand. The cut was not deep enough, but the blood continually flowed. If he failed to receive medical attention, he might die of blood loss. "Bryant Jefferson, Site-46 Counter-Intelligence Department."
"Adam Doe, UIU." He lied. Before he even undertook his mission, Watch Command has already influenced some tiny details in the realm that would allow him to fit in it and accomplish his mission hopefully. After all, everything was at stake here and a little bit of tampering might result in some paradoxes but the chances are low enough and rectifiable. "Let's go."
"Yeah," Bryant replied as they exited the alley.
The Keaton's Eatery was now occupied by only a handful of people by the time the clock strikes eleven. Adam glanced at the wall clock to confirm the time and his suspicion was correct. The bright orange lights that illuminated the diner made him squint. He swept the area with his gaze and noticed that the patrons were all men with broad shoulders, eyes that seemed to have gazed straight into the abyss, and stern expressionless faces. Bryant nodded at the waitress behind the counter of the eatery, who made her way out and approached the entrance. She flipped the 'Open' signage to 'Close' and locked it. She walked towards the door that leads to the kitchen and never went back out. Adam knew she left.
"Time to pack up, boys." Bryant said at the men present. "The specialist is here. We're going to drop by at the Coulson's for a friendly visit to meet their dog, Kerry."
"What happened to your hand, Bryant?" One of the men asked as he stood from his seat and approached. Bryant raised his bandaged hand and grinned.
"Some CI fucker jumped me on some alley. The Fed guy saved me from being axed." Bryant glanced at Adam. "I haven't said my gratitude yet. Thanks for saving my life."
"Don't mention it." Adam replied as he stared directly at Bryant. There was a glint of intent behind the agent's gaze. Even his smile that had became a wide grin have hinted at the multi-branching possibilities with a single road, which he knew the outcome of. The Theory of Predestination in works once more. "I'm going to the bathroom, I need to piss."
"In the back." One of the men behind him said as he thumbed the door behind him. Adam nodded his thanks, catching the same look from the man's eyes.
He locked the door behind him and sat on the toilet bowl. He retrieved from his jacket the laptop computer containing PAL.
"Iteration 50, notes." He said without delay. PAL complied without question. He looked at the log for any discrepancies that might occur along the way but he found none. Same old trajectories that still led to the same result. He shut the computer off and closed the briefcase. He tucked it inside his jacket's pocket. "The seven deniable persons in black, a fire burnt, they all fall down." He repeated what he read. He stood up and turned the faucet on as he produced a second recorder from his pocket.
"Iteration 51, the unburnt bridge towards the end of the road. The path that leads to a very high climax, which in turn leads to a very steep fall. Not everyone received a second chance at something. But this purgatory discourages me to avail it as well. If I am to pursue it, well we all know where it leads, right? I hope this time, something would change. Maybe you don't have to listen to the repetitive failures again and again. Maybe I might be able to spare you of the anxiety if the multiverses will collapse or hold still. I may have seen the outcomes, but truth to be told, I still don't know where the road ends." He paused.
Now
"To my Eve, please forgive me." A pause. "The end of Jade Cemetery." A loud beep was heard. The Sarge placed the recorder back to the remnants of the sink and crossed the scorched diner. The soldiers around her remained quiet, none of them could not make sense of the words uttered by the Adam Unit in his recorder. However, the Sarge fully knew well what her Adam meant. Tears flowed from her eyes but she cleared her throat to make sure her voice wouldn't crack.
"Let's move, soldiers. To the Endpoint."
Then
The Serpent, of all the realms in existence, had chosen a version of a world where the laws of physics constantly breaks down. The Watch had already marked the realm as dangerous and a lockdown was already in effect to prevent extradimensional races from traveling to it or anything from within from coming out. Somehow, the Serpent had managed to defeat the security measures that kept the realm sealed. The runes and the sentries were annihilated, as if something had bombed them. The last thing the Watch wanted was for a domino effect to pour out and affect the other realms and multiverses should something happen in the hell-damned realm.
Which is why the Watch Command had dispatched an Adam Unit, part of an elite clandestine division within the Watch. The Eve Unit was its counterpart that comprised of opposing sex. The operators of both units have undergone extensive surgeries compatible with their respective hormones to allow them to withstand the harsh effects of long interdimensional realm travels since regular entities from the The Watch's baseline reality could only endure much before having the need to return back home and rejuvenate.
Adam derailed his train of thoughts as the voice of the driver pulled him back to reality. The heads of the men around him bobbed back and forth as the vehicle negotiated an uneven terrain. He looked at the obscured faces of each of the men, wearing black balaclavas and helmets over their heads. A symbol of a circle with three arrows pointing inwards were stitched on their left arms, their coat of arms. Adam recalled the name that they use for themselves.
The Foundation.
Many of iterations of such organization existed across the multiverses. Some of its realms had one, or at least an organization that resembled it. The threats their counterparts contained were not very potent unlike the ones native to this realm. He decided not to think about it as the van finally stopped in front of a seemingly empty warehouse with a gloomy interior.
Without word, they disembarked from the van in a well disciplined manner. Adam did matched the same demeanour, as if he had been in such operations in the past. The truth is, he was but the operations in question were undertaken in the battlefields across the multiverses or some realm where they needed to execute a secret task.
But it was just his first time to do it with strangers. However, he already rose above the feeling of being out of place because he had pulled off the same maneuver, movement and the variants of the two with the same faces in the same location before.
It felt like a deja vu as Adam and the stack entered the entrance of the warehouse and navigated the labyrinth of stacked boxes in the entrance leading to the middle. He was positioned behind the foreman, in front of Bryant Jefferson. They moved quietly, gliding among the shadows as they progressed. However, the first contact took place when a CI operative detected the stack and opened fire.
Adam expected it, took a step back and let the man take the bullet in the neck. He whirled around the crates and fired back at the assailant, who received a round to the breastbone. Footsteps could be heard behind the fallen guard. Adam anticipated where the next one would show up. As soon as his body came to full view, he pulled the trigger.
An exchange of gunfire was heard behind the Foundation team. Adam did not bother looking since he knew that none of them bit the dust.
They continued on.
He heard shouts and screams. The hideout, which Adam learned from Bryant in the meeting, was used as a storage for low-risk anomalous items that were usually used for negotiation with minor Groups-of-Interests in the anomalous community. The Counter-Intelligence Department was tasked to retrieve the items since a plan to use it as a leverage to encourage small groups to storm a Foundation Site was leaked to them.
Coincidentally, the Serpent was hiding among the Chaos Insurgents.
Adam could not care any less with their petty conflicts and their useless junk of trash. However, fate was inescapable and he tried to do everything he could to prevent the next scenes, to no avail.
A gunfire erupted from the back, followed by a body falling from a catwalk above. Adam fired at a moving shadow beyond, visible through a gap between two boxes. A scream was heard, then silence. Bryant fired to the right, taking down the last of the opposition.
Silence followed.
However, he could hear footsteps running out of the backdoor. One of the Foundation agents decideed to give chase, but Bryant held a hand up.
"Don't bother, someone's going to kill the bastard for us." He motioned at the steel boxes beyond. "Check them out."
The Foundation agents removed the lids of the boxes and found what they were looking for. A gold goblet, a silver arrow, a painting, a stuffed animal and a black cube. They replaced the lid back after confirming that the objects were there. Bryant faced Adam.
"You've been a helpful friend for us, Adam." He began. "And you even saved my life."
Adam's heart pounded. Adrenaline raced across his veins.
"But in every battle, there are sacrifices that should be made." Bryant turned to him completely. "Your family and bosses are already notified. No hard feelings, just work." He pulled his gun on Adam, but he already anticipated it.
He swatted Bryant's hand upwards and fired at his left leg. Adam snatched Bryant by the collar as his buddies raised their weapons and opened fire. He used the man's body as a meat shield as he retreated back to the labyrinth. Adam dropped the corpse aside and moved away while the Foundation agents pursued him.
"He hasn't gone too far!" One of them yelled, Adam crouched among the crates and waited. He took aim until the agent came into full view. Three rounds fired, the man instantly dropped in a heap. The noise alerted the other ones as they converged on the location where the sound possibly have originated from.
Adam moved around the labyrinth until he found the alternate route that led to the backdoor where the Serpent had exited. The Foundation agents never knew this path. He, however, after massacring the same men ten times, he memorized the path out of habit. The scene with the Foundation agents may be unavoidable, but he has a choice to lessen the bloodshed that had occurred here. He learned that the alternative path was easier than the violent one.
He ran out of the backdoor and towards another maze that comprised of crisscrossing dark alleys that harbored pungent stench. Adam ran, taking the very same path that the Serpent had tread upon, which he also had tread upon in the past. Every turn was another thrilling moment. Adam prayed that he could stop the Serpent from accomplishing its task.
Ultimately, the alley that the Serpent had took led to a cemetery. He crawled through a hole in the fence, which Adam also passed through. The vertical stretch flanked with moss-collecting tombstone was like a road leading to death. The back of the Serpent could be seen beyond. He thought that seeking refuge among a group of ano-terrorist would make him safe from the clutches of The Watch.
Adam will prove him wrong.
The Serpent halted and turned to him. The bald man was wearing a faded jacket, cargo pants and spiked boots. He got his name for his reptile-like eyes and forked primary tongue. The man spoke using his secondary human-like tongue.
"Why are you chasing me?!" He asked.
"Stop it, Serpent. Stop resisting, it's over. Surrender now and maybe we'll make it painless."
"I am a cog in my master's machine! I shall not be stopped!"
Adam took aim at the Serpent. The Watch Command had required that the Serpent be captured or if he was killed here, the outcome would all be the same and this iteration will be consumed. Adam takes a step forward. A shot to the knee would send the Serpent to flight and towards his objective. Attempting to knock him out would also put him to flight and to his objective. He has exhausted all the other possibilities.
He lowered his gun and glanced to the left. He caught sight of broken chains over a tombstone. Another tombstone possessed an image of the ouroboros but it was bisected diagonally with a knife. He glanced to the right and saw the symbol of an infinity redacted by scratches. One of the tombstone read that the person who lies there had died of asphyxiation, and another, overdose.
Adam looked on the ground and was losing hope. The Serpent took advantage of the idleness and ran elsewhere. Adam muttered a curse and sprinted at him. There was no way in hell that he would let the Serpent ruin everything again.
In the distance, a mound of earth arose. Red lights appeared from its surface while the rattling of chains was heard from that direction. The Serpent reached it; the lower part of the mound bisected open, revealing large jagged rocks beneath. It reminded Adam of a maw, because it is a maw. The Serpent crammed himself inside.
It was too late now.
Adam halted and sheathed his handgun. There was no point of continuing the chase. He only have five minutes before the world end once again.
"Iteration 51, the end of the road. I have failed once more. Everything always ends here. But each tries, it makes me determined even more." He sat cross legged on the crossroads. "I may have failed to cut the head of the Serpent today, but I promise that I will not fail tomorrow. Fuck, who the hell am I quoting anyway? Some person that this particular realm had never heard of. This is the end but I won't bid the audience goodbye since I would be seeing them on the other side anyway." He shut the recorder and placed it to the side. The horizon glowed in red; PAL spoke to him.
"Death isn't scary as it seems."
"Shut up and deactivate."
Their world was enveloped in red.
Now
The Sarge tossed the recorder to the ground. Beyond the road of the cemetery was a large cliff thousands of feet below. She walked towards the edge and noticed that the bottom was shrouded in a mist of red, as if there was sea of blood beneath.
"Watch Command, this is Scout Team Omega-Three. The road ends here. Should we still proceed?" She asked.
"Proceed, Omega-Three Team Leader." The voice replied back.
She nodded at the soldiers, who now gathered at the edge of the cliff and jumped down.
They landed on a similar place: red skies, ruined buildings, charred half melted skeletal remains and burn out cars. How they survived the fall, the Sarge did not know. The world was known to have its laws of physics break everyday and maybe it has something to do with it.
She led her team across the outskirts. Her eyes went to the map readout located on the upper left corner of her visual display link. The Watch Command had marked their destination up ahead, which was now becoming nearer.
She held a fist up, halting everyone in her group. The Sarge heaved a labored sigh and hoped that her Adam had succeeded this time in capturing the Serpent. This version of Earth only had sixty iterations, and if the Serpent consumed everything, the apocalypse will follow shortly.
Beyond her was a building—the marked destination in her map. She was reminded of a saying: "How the mighty had fallen". It was originally three story high but the floors seemed to have taken a swan dive to the ground floor. Her eyes went to the wreckage and noticed a remnant of a room that had survived the ruination.
"Secure the perimeter, support line provide overwatch." She ordered. Her subordinates did what they were told, but she noticed that three of them were missing. She turned with a frown. "You three!" The Sarge pointed at them. "Why are you loitering about? Didn't you heard my instruction? Provide overwatch for the squad and be on the lookout."
"Yes sir!" They replied and moved to their respective positions. The Sarge ignored them and vaulted over the stacked floors. She approached a bed and noticed a Watch Command-issued heavy-duty cassette recorder. She picked it up and played it.
"Last iteration, 51. If you are listening to this, it only means that I failed, died, or both. A system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked…
"So," a voice spoke from the very back of the chamber.
Ashaziel turned to meet the owner of the voice. The dark room illuminated at the presence of the unwanted visitor. Shards of black crystal gems manifested in the air and merged into humanoid forms and immediately assumed combat stance in the defense of their demon master.
"This is where you've been hiding?" The owner of the voice continued.
"Kahariel," Ashaziel called. "I heard of Lucifer's death on Terra, and the All-Father's reign over it." He turned his back to the grey clad Archdemon but the crystal soldiers remained where they were, their arms that ended in sharp appendages still remained trained at Kahariel.
"Yes," Kahariel simply replied. The grey armored demon was still equipped with damaged battle gear. The left plate of his chest was missing while the other bore a large diagonal laceration that spoke of angelic weaponry. Hanging in his waist were numerous skulls and rotting head of Human warriors who stood in the defense of Earth, which was now renamed as New Jerusalem. His face, leonine and feral in appearance, grinned widely as he scanned his brother's new hiding place. "What were you doing here?"
"I chose my battles well, Headtaker. If I know that I will lose it, I will retract from it. I don't fight in a senseless last stand." Ashaziel replied. His red musular body was draped with Cerberan pelt. The creature's head rested on Ashaziel's left shoulder.
"So, you plan to hide here forever-more?" Kahariel asked sarcastically, admiring the beauty of the chamber of his brother. Thousands of shards similar to the object that comprised the crystal guards floated in the air. Greenish light that emanated elsewhere acted as a backdrop to the seemingly colossal chamber.
"No," Ashaziel turned and snarled, "I chose to retire." He put an emphasize on the last word and took a step forward to his brother. "God has won Terra and the pagan gods who previously reigned over it have been trampled into the pieces of chaffs that they were. His hounds beheaded them with no remorse and never ending blood-lust. You think it would be wise to fight now that our own father was dead?"
"The Multiverse, Little Ashaziel, is wide enough for us to mount a guerilla warfare against Heaven. Let me remind you that there were others waiting in the shadows for the perfect time to strike. Lucifer was nothing but an arrogant prick who thought of nothing but revenge. He knew nothing of true conquest."
In a fit of rage, Ashaziel charged at Kahariel and easily toppled him to the ground with his supernatural might.
"Never bastardize the memory of our father by speaking lowly of him!" He growled. The crystal sentinels closes in around them. "If you have nothing else to say, you may leave." He stood, turned and walked away.
"Dammit, Ashaziel, can't you not see? We are at the precipice of our own triumph!"
The room around Ashaziel shifted, transforming into a battlefield littered with corpses of mythological monsters, demons, hellspawns, dukes, barons and other horrors that came out of Hell's pit.
"You call this 'triumph'?! Are you blind or has the war taken toll on your psyche, you imbecile prat?!" Ashaziel's skin began to glow, revealing esoteric tattoos—inscriptions of potent black prayers.
"I told you, little brother, there are other players in the wide galaxy waiting for a chance to strike. We are not the only soldiers in Lucifer's rebellion." With a pause, Kahariel smiled at him evilly. "Don't you want revenge for what they did to your dear Variel?"
At the mention of the Fallen Angel, Ashaziel powered down. A Malakhim—or Angel to the tongue of the Humans, was his most beloved. He fell in love with her, and she with him. Both entities would have been betrothed had they met under different circumstances.
Variel protected him from detection when a Strike Team of Mark I Protectorates were deployed to terminate him. The Archangel who ordered for his assassination, had changed the Strike Team's target and designated Variel, now marked as a Fallen Angel, as their target instead. Her demise was brutal. He watched in the shadows as the savage Man-Angels ripped her head from her shoulders.
"Michael…" Ashaziel spoke, the bastard who ordered for her death. "I will have his head on a platter." He glanced at Kahariel and said, "What are you planning to do?"
Kahariel's maw widened into a grin that appeared like a snarl. The crystal guards inched backwards but were still following the Archdemon with their sharp limbs.
"I am planning to awaken the Leviathans, oh dear brother. If we cannot put the All-Father to shame, maybe we could, at least, cause irreparable damages that would weaken Heaven's empire…mysteriously."
"You really are crazy." Ashaziel replied as he turned his back to him. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"My remaining Legions found a ruined naval vessel. Its occupants abandoned it a long time ago. It was of angelic design and I had them hack through the thing." Kahariel watched Ashaziel turn with a questioning look on his eyes. "It was as if we opened a vault of the secrets of the Multiverse itself. We learned about a portal, or a gateway if you mean, in a planet called Gladarius at the Third Realm."
"What does the gateway do?"
"It open paths toward universes and realities outside of the Hourglass Multiverse." Kahariel laughed, his voice echoed throughout the chamber. "It was where God and His trusted Archangels imprisoned the Leviathans as well. Can't you imagine how God had the rest of the Angels fooled?"
"No, you are the fool! I am against that proud Architect, but you do know that there must be a reason why that portal was both kept from us and the Angels? Whatever it is—"
"But what about Variel then?"
Ashaziel stopped mid-sentence. He felt a knot in his chest and stomach as the memories of her made him cloud his judgment once more.
"I will avenge her death." He said through gritted teeth. All reason and judgment was abandoned as he only thought of Michael being dead at his feet, and with him, his Mark I Protectorates.
"Sure." Kahariel replied as he stood up. The room shifted back to the way it was. "You will not regret your decision, brother. I have an army waiting for us, and together," he paused before screaming in a loud voice, "We shall watch Heaven burn!"