AND CHAPTER 16!
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Chapter 16

The young man sat bolt upright in his seat, watching the void outside the window. There was not an ounce of informality in him, no acquiescence to gravity of comfort. He was dressed in a snappy tuxedo, well starched and ironed, the only incongruity being an insignia emblazoned on the left shoulder pad bearing the words 'Death To The Wind Resistance' and the sleek image of a hydra spitting fire. The room was almost pitch black, but he still wore a pair of cheap, reflective sunglasses, hiding his eyes. He had a thing for black it seemed, black suit, black pants, raven black hair slicked back except for a single prominent spike, even his skin, pale as it was seemed somehow grey.

Anyone observing him would quickly conclude he was dangerously unstable, not least because he was muttering to himself as he sipped at the highly alcoholic beverages onboard Devan Shell's new personal craft.

"I don't really give a damn who I work for, all that matters is at the end of the day I have a large, sum of cash added to my bank account. Doesn't matter what the job is, but personally, if it involves killing people on a large scale and the possibility of tracking down the one that dragged me into this wretched realm, I'm more than happy to take the offer. Screw working for the better cause. I know HE'S fighting for it, so it's only natural to make him suffer in a way similar to what I have to."

The turtle who had been assigned to the madman sighed and leaned against the wall. Things were getting weirder all round, especially if they had stooped to hiring this guy. Now what else was there? Ah yes, the pass key. The young man smiled evilly on being handed the small token, then blew the henchman's head clean off his shoulders.

"Sorry about that, but let's face it, your stuff is c***. I want to use my own little toys, thanks."

The body was, in classic fashion, loaded into the waste vent and jettisoned into space. Someone would be watching of course, but they were all morons. They probbably didn't even know that he was already working for the army on Mobius. It was just too tempting to be paid twice to go around killing things. Tempting and fun.


* * *

Somebody was watching, on a monitor the body twirled weightlessly in space as the ship sped away. Ah, how refreshing, somebody not just devoid of sanity or morals, but somebody who had that unique, twisted purpose to deliberately set themselves against the world. He had many followers now, those who had stuck by him from the days of the original campaign, those who had joined him in this new escapade, traitors and mercenaries, and not least, those who had given him this complete clarity of thought, but it was refreshing to see a real loose cannon. The tracker in the pass card would be most enlightening, he was sure.

Devan smiled, the light reflecting off his glasses with a crisp sparkle, just as the room faded to black, the monitors flaring one by one, then winking out. If only someone had been there to see it, it was real style. Nevermind. Now the only light came from him, as his skin itself seemed not to glow, but rather, to be lit without any light source. His eyes glowed deep red as he stared into the void around him, another little touch he'd added to this body, and one well worth the slight discomfort.

The young man was a survivor...of course, having been dragged into this dimension against his will, Devan could see his mind laid out before him, its cold, simple and stupid logic glowing like a living circuit board. How he hated his twin brother, blamed him for everything, hated the universe and everything in it, how his desire for revenge, any way, any how, burned in him like a flame. A brilliant mind.

"Freelancer Davis, prepare your equipment and craft. Our next target is nearby and invasion procedures will begin in half an hour."

"Fair enough. Might as well kill some time before killing time."

Elsewhere...

The endless streams of data continued to scroll indefinitely on the large monitors. While normal eyes would be hard-pressed to follow the rapidly scrolling text, seeing naught but meaningless drivel, the observer wasn't fazed in the slightest. He'd adjusted to acquiring so much information as well as processing it so rapidly, continued to ignore the near freezing temperature. Who gave a damn? He could force his own body to produce heat but that would've been pointless. Physical matters were of no importance. Only after the last few lines of text scrolled by did the figure finally turn away to focus his concentration to other things.

"It seems that the pieces are continuing to fall into place, despite the constant additions to this little...game. Things are still working out in my favor. They're completely oblivious to what's going to happen, but I'm curious in seeing if the 'Hero' recognizes the mess he's getting himself into. While it would be a shame for him to get killed by someone who's inferior to myself...to us, at least I wouldn't have to waste the effort needed to take care of him."

More data began to stream by and the figure turned back to it, reading information far faster than the eye could follow and then faster than the eye could see. Only a fraction of the mind needed to be occupied with this of course. While things certainly hadn't been going as planned, the end result would be the same, only minor, insignificant details had changed. It was... yes it was amusing to see those, heh, heroes still fighting, oblivious to any kind of sense. How would they deal with the various little... challenges that awaited them? That was all part of the fun.

The figure began to type, a sound of metal thudding into the keys in short sharp bursts, before the computer procceded making protesting beeps as its memory buffer was overrun. This was a talent a wonderful surprise. This mind didn't see numbers as things to be counted, added, subtracted and such, it saw them as streams of information, you looked and there was the answer. Now in its mind the numbers flew, streaming together into incandescent strings, each flying like an arrow to a target.

Each one his, silently but with the force of a mortar round, decimating prison and asylum systems dimension-wide. And there were oh so very many. In some worlds the insane were taken care of, but it was far, far more efficient just to lock them in darkened rooms somewhere and poke them with sicks. It wouldn't seem quite so efficient as security failed, doors opened and riots began, in a thousand places on a hundred worlds. Nobody could stop this, not now. Soon enough the information would inform him, the reports of the chaos would come in, and the heroes would act. Oh yes, they would act, how could they not? It was part of the basic package. They would need to deal with every possible situation, exploit every weakness, and even then they had no hope, the end result would be the same.

It was many a hero's flaw. Sympathy and kindness for others as well as an appreciation for life, while others were physically weak or not too bright. The possiblity of being a 'perfect' being who followed the path of justice was laughable yet one who lusted for destruction and death...well...the only thing that stopped perfection which was within reach was thier mortality...

* * *

Clearly, Kain wasn't too happy about the way things were progressing at the moment. The view from the top was supposed to be satisfactory and with the way he was going about with his plans, it didn't make sense why. The military had, with the rapidity of all armed forces everywhere taken to brutality, looting and murder with natural ease. There were however some who were rather vocally upset about the sudden changes and they were holding quite a few of the rest back.

He clenched his teeth in anger, trying to force their resignations hadn't worked, nor had a campaign of violence and alienation against them. Anything too overt of course would attract public outcry, and once the common people learned that a soldier, when stabbed, died just like anyone else the spell was broken a few thousand people could easily take back this world, if they ever thought they could do it but you worried them and worried them, never letting them think, never giving them peace, and you kept on top.

He stared out at the sunset,it was blood red, tinged by dust high in the atmosphere. It remind him of Technoir, a wonderful place and where he had first learned the joys of control. It provided the answer to everything of course. The simple solution was to douse everything in that color.

Oh there were those infernal pests, but unless they had some real, solid information, even the hedgehog could do nothing. Oh they could stop what, a few hundred people? But Kain knew how to think big; no matter what they did, what they said what they thought they could prove, he was one step ahead. There were already a dozen splinter movements seeking his overthrow, and he'd started all of them, each with an equally crazy reason for his removal. The public wouldn't so much as blink if there was documented proof of him being the devil himself.

And once you had them in your power, people would do your work for you. even now the public were looking for his opponents, for rewards, for the release or forgiveness of family, even for the grater good. Opposition would be disposed of, and the people would cheer him on. It was almost laughably simple. They deserved him.