Marc (Big Marcy)

Marc, or ‘Big Marcy’ as everyone insisted to call him, a name he despised yet let slide to differentiate himself from his brother, stood in front of a cylindrical vat, examining its contents through its glass wall.

It could not be denied that the moniker ‘Big Marcy’ was simple yet perfectly encapsulated the first thought anyone would have upon seeing him. His towering height and immense physique made people think he was an enhanced human or augmented with leg extensions and the like, but it simply was not so. He was naturally tall enough to look Auron in the eye—or rather the part of his face where his eyes should be, were it not for his misfortune—as the latter floated in the regenerative fluids inside the vat.

One of the prized artificial Adumbrae of their organization was now more monster than a man in appearance; he was already a monster before. Vivid blue tumorous growths covered half of Auron’s body and threatened to engulf the rest of it. Dozens of tendrils instinctively reached for Marc as he came closer like plants growing towards the sunlight, wiggling in the liquid and tapping on the glass.

“This is safe, I presume?” Marc said to the frail old man beside him.

Mister looked up from the tablet held. He gave a quick glance at Auron, muttering, “Yes, yes,” before returning to analyzing data. He did not attempt to veil his annoyance at the interruption.

The sheer disrespect, Marc seethed in his mind. If this was his brother, Mark, inspecting the laboratory, Mister would be courteously catering to him. The old man certainly was on his brother’s side.

Marc chewed his tongue to calm himself, not showing any outward sign of his irritation. He asked Mister, “Will Auron be able to recover? Does your child control this body now?” He used the term the old man called his disgusting creations.

Mister slowly shook his head. “Unfortunately, there’s no more Auron to recover. He had died and my child has taken over, yes. Assuming his brain hadn’t shut down due to blunt force trauma caused by that wretched girl, this much interconnection is irreversible at this point, and would eventually still lead to his death. This is why I have misgivings using my children in combat to augment one’s abilities. Severe injuries are unavoidable and it’ll trigger this reaction. Let me put it this way…” And the old man continued with complicated scientific jargon.

Bringing up a topic Mister was interested in was a sure way to get him talking. Marc did not care for any of it for he had read the reports. He only wanted Mister to give him his attention.

As everyone in this organization should.

Losing Auron was a huge blow. Not only was his ability incredibly useful, but he also had unparalleled skills in working behind the scenes to set up everything the organization needed, from bribing officials to organizing grassroots movements that they would twist to their plans.

A huge blow…but to whom?

Marc was not bothered by it for he considered his brother’s loss in the same way Stella’s death was his.

He clenched his teeth upon remembering Stella’s and Dekano’s deaths. He turned away his face so Mister would not see his tensed cheek muscles, evenly breathing until his face relaxed. Everyone who survived the attack on the condominium building where Erind Hartwell lived was on Mark’s side.

The old man continued to drone on about his planned experiments in an attempt to save Auron’s precious power by having his slug creation control this corpse—Mister was an enemy, no doubt about it.

Slinky should be as well. How Marc wished the reptilian man had joined his side for he had a good impression of him even from the time he was a normal human. Fortunately, Slinky was also killed by Erind; that was another problem taken care of.

As for Bob, that simple-minded giant buffoon who could not think for himself only followed strength and power. That meant Stella when she was still alive. But now that she was gone, Bob had taken a liking to that bastard Teruna, one of the main guards of Red Island. Nonetheless, Marc counted this as a small win for it meant Bob could only be safely kept at Red Island and was thus temporarily out for the count.

And then there was… “Finlay,” Marc said, interrupting Mister. “How is he?” It was rare for that crafty maggot to be severely injured for he had an extreme aversion to danger. Finlay was probably afraid of Mark’s anger if Auron was lost. His power was so valuable that the sly fox forced himself to go against his cowardly instincts. In the end, Auron still died and the lower half of Finlay’s face was ripped off—a very satisfying outcome.

Mister exasperatedly exhaled, waving his hand. “Finlay’s doing fine. I’d prefer if he didn’t regenerate his mouth. He's raving inside his room about how he’ll kill that girl.”

“Is he certain that this Erind and the giant wolf beast are the same?”

“He didn’t see her face but he was ‘eighty percent sure’, although I’m not going to trust Finlay in math.” The old man unceremoniously turned away from Marc and walked to a computer terminal. “But isn’t it too much of a coincidence for that girl and Red Hood to be in the same place at the same time?”

Marc narrowed his eyes as he stared at Mister’s insolent back. “Three instances are too much of a coincidence,” he said, maintaining a neutral atmosphere. “Is it not interesting that the three of us here were witnesses for each of those events? Me, at the docks. You, for yesterday’s fight. And…” He looked over his shoulder at the brunette woman staring intently at one of Mister’s experiments. “And Vanessa here for the night the club was destroyed.”

Vanessa Minnows was an unexpected ally that Marc was still unsure could be trusted. She tucked her hair behind her ear and faced them. As she raised her hand, the loose sleeve of her dress fell, revealing metal bands with heavy locks around her arm. “Is Mark going to order another attempt to kidnap Erind?” she asked. There it was, the reason she allied with Marc and not his more powerful brother. “We now know about her true nature.”

“No, we are going to leave her be,” Marc replied. “It is—"

“Did Mark say that?” Mister interjected. The loud tapping of his fingers abruptly stopped.

“It is too dangerous,” Marc finished his sentence with an edge to his tone. “We have lost too many men for no gain. The same holds true now, we have nothing to gain. It is not good business to expend resources on a losing venture.” He glared at Mister in the eye until the latter dropped his gaze to his computer. “And I am sure my brother is of the same mind.”

Then he looked at Vanessa. She gave him a subtle nod.

This was one of his promises to her: keep Erind safe.

And it was nearly broken when Erind fought Auron and the others. Marc had not anticipated that possibility and was not able to make preparations to save her if need be. Fate was on his side as Erind handily defeated the ungrateful traitors who sided with his brother.

“I’ll miss Slinky,” Vanessa said. “He was always nice to me whenever I visited the Red Island.”

“And we are in the process of transferring our operations out of this city due to BID presence,” continued Marc. “Some of our men have already gone back to the Red Island, while the rest will be on guard duty. After our massive losses, other groups like the greedy good-for-nothings from Las Vegas might take this opportunity to push us out of the table and take our seats.”

Mister continued working, apparently no longer listening to his ramblings. However, he was sure the old man had an ear open to later report whatever he said to his brother.

And for that, Marc wanted to remind him that he had a share in the control over the operations of their organization. “Of course, we are simply not forgetting Erind. She did try to kill me.” He nodded at Vanessa. “Given we cannot spare anyone, I am going to send Vanessa to investigate her.”

They had discussed the matter beforehand. She replied, “Should be easy with my familiars.”

He was certain his brother would not countermand this order. There was no way Mark would realize his true intentions. His brother would simply assume he wanted to track Erind for possible revenge in the future, think no further of it, and focus on more pressing matters—after all, he did not have the manpower to fight Erind.

Marc had wanted to kill Erind Hartwell.

But not anymore.

They had kidnapped her—he could not blame her for fighting them, he rationalized to himself. Furthermore, that mysterious Adumbrae girl had killed so many of his brother’s men. She had done him a huge favor without knowing it.

An unwitting ally.

How much more could she accomplish for him if she was an actual ally? She had proven her worth in fighting his brother. With her on his side, he would certainly be able to topple Mark.

Marc covered his mouth to hide a smirk he could not control. “We will leave to your work.”

“Uh-huh,” grunted the old man.

“Thank you for having us, Mister,” Vanessa said as she followed Marc.

Vanessa was a powerful asset to have; she had demonstrated her abilities to him and he was impressed. In return, she wanted to have Erind by her side—Marc readily promised her so. Their goals aligned. He personally did not care about her reason to want to be friends with someone who shot her point-blank in the head. But then again, Erind had also tried to eat him. Both of them were kindred souls, nearly killed by the person they want to ally with.

However, Vanessa would not be enough if Marc wanted to make a power play. His brother had too many Adumbrae loyal to him, especially among the guards for their assigned sector in Red Island. Other than Erind, there was someone else he could try to get on his side.

Marc veered to the left section of the vast laboratory so he could pass by a specific line of vats on his way to the exit. Out of the ten containers in this row, seven of them were occupied.

Six held corpses of normal-looking humans. Mister had told him that his ‘children’ could not connect to the nervous systems of these people, somehow resulting in both the parasite and the person dying. The old man could not, or probably chose not to, explain the significance of this. At any rate, it was apparent there was something important with these dead bodies because the Supplier was more interested in them than the Adumbrae that Manifested at EFU Medical Center.

I will discover their secrets someday, Marc promised himself. For now, his focus was on the person inside the seventh vat—a half-mutated man with a large blade for an arm. His brain worked on a plan to set him free without inviting suspicion, while at the same time wondering if he had not yet gone mad thinking of ways to defeat his brother.

No. Decisive action was needed.

He was going to show he was the superior Marc…even if he had to throw in his lot with Ramon, a true Adumbrae who wanted to take revenge on all of them.

Ramello Staten

“Again, thank you so much,” Ramello Staten said on the phone, his voice cracking towards the end. “I…I hope to meet him soon.” His grip on the phone tightened as he continuously repeated a prayer of gratitude to the Mother Core inside his head. He had just received news that his uncle was safe during the Adumbrae Titan attack and that he had woken up from his coma with experimental treatment at the hospital.

“Just passing on the message, sir,” replied the police officer on the other end of the line. Ramello had seen this man a couple of times during his visits to Uncle Jerry’s precinct and could recognize him by face, but he hadn’t spoken to him before. The cop had explained he was Castan’s friend visiting the hospital as a favor since the latter couldn’t—Castan, like Ramello, was also held by the BID for testing and investigation. “I’m sure Lt. Hall will be delighted when you visit him.” And there was the beep of the call ending.

Ramello felt his eyes water. He had told the cop that he hoped to meet his uncle, and not that he was going to visit soon…he didn’t know when he’d be able to do that…or if that was still possible.

“Is everything alright?” said a mellow female voice.

“Uh, yeah.” Ramello wiped the tears on the side of his eyes before looking up at the BID agent in front of him. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m fine,” he said firmly. He handed her back the phone she lent him and murmured his thanks.

She wore a glossy angular black helmet fully enclosing her head except for an opening at the back allowing her long hair to flow down. Like other agents he had seen here at Palomar Base, she wore a nondescript black suit, except that hers was more tight-fitting. A rectangular metal object was attached to her back.

Lexis, that was her introduction and nothing else—no, title or rank or whatever. Judging from other agents twice her size following her around, Ramello surmised she must be quite important. So, why did she personally come to tell him his uncle was alright? There was no need to allow him a call, especially given that he was under investigation. They were suspiciously accommodating.

But Ramello didn’t want to think too deeply about that now. He massaged the spot on his head where that traitorous dirtbag hit him with a metal box—BID nurses had treated his wounds and bandaged them. Served that guy right to be eaten by the monsters at the hospital for joining the SVS to rat them out to the PCM.

“Is your injury hurting?” Lexis asked, pointing at his forehead. “You can rest at our hospital. We’ll just call you for your turn.”

“I’ll just wait here for my friend,” he answered, referring to Reginus.

“It might take some time.”

“It’s alright, Ma'am. I promised her I'd stay here.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “If you need anything, just tell Sid over there.” She nodded at the burly agent with a frowning face and a gun guarding the door to the room; Ramello definitely had no plans of talking to that guy. “Water or coffee or whatever. Make yourself comfortable. We’re just doing routine checks.”

Ramello stared at her leaving followed by her entourage of bodybuilders. He sighed and looked down at the metal rings around his wrists. Routine, huh? And make himself comfortable? Then why did they slap this kind of cuffs on him?

He didn’t know what they were called, but he knew what they could do because Uncle Jerry had told him about them when they watched an Adumbrae arrested on the news. These were used on humans suspected of being Adumbrae, those who hadn’t transformed yet and obviously still had wrists—and that was the majority of people arrested by the BID. Those…too far gone…were executed on the spot.

The rings had trackers in them and could be magnetized to stick to each other to be proper handcuffs. And these rings could also be made to stick to metal. The room he was in appeared to be covered in metal. If they turned the cuffs on, his wrists would probably get pulled down to the floor.

The contradictory messages of the restraints and Lexis’ attitude towards him bothered him. Were these cuffs necessary or simply standard procedure? He clearly wasn’t an Adumbrae—I have a wound on my head! In any case, the tests later would show he was a normal human.

And why bring him here? He could also be tested in La Esperanza like Castan, instead of transporting him all the way to the BID base at Palomar. They wanted something from him. He just couldn’t figure out what.

Were they going to question him about what he knew of the operations of the criminal brothers, Mark and Marc? That was the most logical explanation. They were interrogating Reginus right now, and he was supposed to be next. Both of them were digging for dirt on those scumbag brothers and their organization.

Could the BID want information about Red Hood? Ramello had met her twice—first when he was kidnapped and next at the warehouses of a company controlled by Mark and Marc. The BID shouldn’t know about the first one because he only told Reginus—damn, they were questioning her!

What about that mysterious boy they met at the warehouses? He just appeared as they were running away from the murderous PCM members and helped them find a hiding place. Then he told them to surrender at a specific police station because they’d be safe there. However, they still ended up getting attacked by the PCM. Who was that kid?

Or was the BID interested in witnesses to what happened at the hospital? Ramello supposed that most of them probably died. He and Reginus only survived because they were saved by a shadowy demon-like creature. That could probably be signs of in-fighting among the Adumbrae. The BID would surely be interested in that, although he didn’t know any useful information he could give.

Too many possibilities.

Ramello shrugged. I guess they’re justified cuffing me. Fortunately, his cuffs weren’t turned on and locked together like Professor Deslys’…if that was her that he saw.

The night before, when he was being led to his room, or more like cell, he briefly saw someone dragged by agents down the other side of the corridor. He briefly glimpsed her face and she looked like a professor he had met at Melchor. He had a knack for recognizing faces, but he may have made a mistake this time.

Why would Professor Deslys be here at the BID base as well? And why were her hands and legs restrained?

Ramello slowly shook his head. I don't know what to think anymore.

He ran his finger over a ring on his index finger. It was designed with runes of protection that Reginus said she inscribed while chanting prayers to the Mother Core. She gave it to him as an apology for her brash attitude when they first met; he accepted it out of politeness, trying to keep his face straight and not judge her. This should supposedly not only protect him from harm but also give him good fortune.

His fortune sucked badly right now…

But I am alive.

He was alive, surviving the deadly insanity he went through, coming out with only a wound on his head. Thousands of people had died, but he, right there beside the Adumbrae Titan, managed to survive. And Uncle Jerry had woken up and was recovering.

Maybe the ring was working after all.

I should thank Reginus later.