Children of War: Imagination is your only limitation (The Ascended Book 1), page 1
The Ascended
Children of War
Book 1
HUGO C. BYGOTT
The Ascended - Children of War
Book 1
Copyright © 2015 Hugo C. Bygott
All rights reserved. This book is protected under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. No part of this work may be used or reproduced, transmitted, stored or used in any form or by any means graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning, digitizing, tapping, Web distribution, information networks or information storage and retrieval systems, or in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher.
The characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
This book and other works by Hugo. C. Bygott can be found at: hcbygott.com
To my loving Father and Aunt, Hugh and Ursula Bygott, who never gave up on me and acted as beacons of light in the periods of darkness when I saw no hope.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1 – Job Hunt
Chapter 2 – New Neighbor
Chapter 3 – Job Fair
Chapter 4 – Little Survivor
Chapter 5 – Eclipse
Chapter 6 – Dreamscape
Chapter 7 – Bellum Industries
Chapter 8 – Line Manager
Chapter 9 – Master of the Dojo
Chapter 10 – Kuro and Shiro
Chapter 11 – Children of Bellum
Chapter 12 – Research and Development
Chapter 13 – Judgment
Chapter 14 – White-Rimmed Sunglasses
Chapter 15 – Unwanted Guest
Chapter 16 – Transmission
Chapter 17 – Dr. Rhodes
Chapter 18 – Interrogation
Chapter 19 – Translocator
Chapter 20– Survival
Chapter 21 – Final Day
Chapter 22 – Seekers
Chapter 23 – Bellum’s Paradise
Chapter 24 – Threads of Fate
Chapter 25 – Fathers and Sons
Chapter 26 – The Ensis Family
Chapter 27 – The Battle of Tower Bridge
Chapter 28 – No Escape
Chapter 29 – The Story of Dominus
Chapter 30 – Last Words
About the Author
The shadow of death comes to us all.
Prologue
The sound of running footsteps broke the silence of the night. She ran through the rain, the drops splashing off her black silk hood. Her eyes showed concern, but underneath was a deeper determination. She could sense them close behind her and pushed ahead, her purpose resonating from her swift movements, the moon shining upon her like a spotlight in the midst of the darkness.
Lightning flashed across the sky. She found herself in a busy district with people bustling in and out of bars. She continued running down the street, the muscles in her legs tightening ever more. Her will was strong as she ignored the pain, putting it out of her mind. She knew she couldn’t keep this pace up. Her legs were already trembling due to the toll on her body.
The Tokyo district of Roppongi, an area, filled with bars and clubs, engulfed her presence. There was broken glass scattered on the sidewalk, and some overworked businessmen had passed out. Bouncers were in position in front of the many nightclubs that inhabited Roppongi, watching over the thousands of young party-goers. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath next to a small street shop where an old man was playing the flute.
In the distance, there was a terrifying roar, the thunder silencing the voices in the street. The sound of the flute soon faded as another, more powerful, beat echoed into the streets, but to her, the rhythmic sound was all too familiar since she had come to Japan. Japanese Taiko drums. The beats of the drums matched the rhythm of her heartbeats, rapid and powerful. It was as if the Taiko drums were singing her fate.
She edged through the heavy rain once more and turned into a dark alleyway away from the crowds. Her breathing was deeper; her body had almost reached its limit. Exhaustion was taking over. She stumbled, letting her knees hit the ground. From around her neck, she held a necklace with a crucifix of Jesus. She pulled herself up, the rain dripping down her hood. At that moment, she thought of her daughter hoping that she was safe.
“Praying won’t save you.” A man and a woman stepped out from the darkness behind her. The man’s imposing figure stood with a commanding presence. Broad shoulders mounted his torso like twin peaks. His eyes were blood-red and revealed a face commanding respect, the scars reliving a history of a hundred battles. Dressed in a long black trench coat, standing around six and a half feet, he stood unfazed by the rain dripping from his scarred bald head.
“Dominus.” She turned to face them. “I knew they would send a dog after me.”
“Darling, there’s no need for harsh words.” Dominus smiled with malicious intent. “It hasn’t been easy tracking you. You’re a very hard woman to catch.”
They had finally found her after all these years. She was not surprised, just disappointed. Next to Dominus she recognized her old friend. “Geminae, you still follow orders like a blind fool.”
Geminae, dressed in blue jeans with a white leather jacket, came across as alluring and fragile, but the cold blue eyes that peered into the darkness painted a different picture. She was no longer her friend, only a cold-hearted killer. They had changed her.
Geminae’s blonde curls twisted in the darkness like venomous serpents as she placed her right hand into the air, letting the raindrops splash across her palm. A jet of flame flared up, the rest of the raindrops evaporating into steam as they fell. “If orders mean your pitiable demise, then I’m glad to follow them. You’re pathetic—look at you, tired and exhausted, I can’t believe I once looked up to you.” Geminae created another jet of flame from her hand lighting up the alleyway. “It’s time to finish this. It’s been a long time coming.”
Without warning, Geminae started to twitch, her anger now vanishing from her face. “Sorry! It’s so good to see you again. It’s such a shame that we have to kill you, though.”
Dominus roared with laughter. “Isn’t she delightful?”
Delightful was not the word of which she was thinking. Her friend was but a shell of her former self, the split personality just another symptom of her change.
Dominus stepped closer. “There’s no more running, no more hiding. You’ve run for long enough, and I’ll deliver your punishment with great joy.”
She looked at Dominus with disgust. “You would let me fight without my weapons?”
Dominus returned a smile. “Do I look like a charitable person? You will fight where you stand, with or without your prized weapons.”
A master of hand-to-hand combat, she was deadly, but without her weapons her chances of survival were slim. Only her hidden blades under her sleeves would offer an opening.
She saw Geminae twitch once more, the angry side reappearing. The raindrops fell on Geminae’s outstretched hand, each drop turning to ice. “Geminae! Don’t do this!”
Geminae’s stare was stone cold. “Die.” The icy raindrops shot from her hand and pierced through the air.
“Geminae!” She ran behind a dumpster, the ice bullets slamming into it with ferocity. With haste, she pushed it with all her strength, driving it toward Geminae. The ice bullets ceased as Geminae lost her balance with the force of the dumpster.
Dominus’s laugh echoed in the alley. “Still got some fight left in you, I see? I guess I should have expected it. You never did find it easy to give up.”
Her opening was now. She ran toward Dominus, revealing diamond-shaped blades from her sleeves. They cut the air trying to find their target, but Dominus moved side to side, his movements evading each blade with ease.
She melded into the darkness as she rushed forward, jumping onto the sides of the alley, and ejected herself off, spinning in the air, and throwing a kick into Geminae’s chin, knocking her out cold.
Dominus nodded with appreciation. “Impressive.”
Before she could react, Dominus twirled his black trench coat around, and in the blink of an eye appeared behind her and clasped his oaklike arms around her neck. She tried to resist, but her energy was draining under his powerful grip. Dominus tightened his clutch and licked her ear with his tongue. “It was a pleasure working with you. It’s a shame. What a waste of resources.”
With those last words, Dominus snapped her neck. The crucifix around her neck fell by her side, the raindrops falling like tears on the face of Jesus. In the distance, there was still the beat of the Japanese Taiko drums.
****
“Deal the cards! I don’t have all day!”
The dealer placed three cards down, his hands shaking from nerves. An Ace of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, and a Two of Diamonds.
“Useless!” Flynn threw his cards away.
“Bad hand?” Blake smiled and raised $2,000. “Dragon, are you in?”
Dragon’s face was disfigured by a dark scar over his left eye. The right portion of his face was covered with a black and white dragon tattoo which trailed down to his lip, the tip of the dragon tail resting inside hi
Blake tried to see if Dragon was bluffing. All that he found was a cold dragon eye glaring back at him, the tattoo curling around the man’s eye. Blake threw his cards into the center with a deep sigh. “Fold.”
Only one player remained. A man with a youthful appearance, no older than his late twenties, smiled at Dragon. He appeared calm under his white-rimmed sunglasses. With short brown hair and a long white coat, he seemed out of place in this high-stakes cash game.
“What’s it going to be? You’re playing with the big boys now,” said Flynn.
It was hard to see his eyes under his white-rimmed sunglasses, but a sense of overwhelming confidence came from his innocent smile. For whatever reason, he was not afraid. His left hand played with the chips, each chip flowing in and out of his fingers. “Call.” He threw down an equal amount of chips, matching Dragon’s bet.
Silent shock spread across the faces of Flynn and Blake. Playing with Dragon was not a wise move. The dealer wiped sweat from his forehead as he collected the chips into the center. He then revealed the next card. An Eight of Hearts was shown, which prompted Dragon to smile. “Raise $400,000.”
“Call.”
Flynn and Blake couldn’t believe their eyes. The nerve of this young man was outrageous.
“You think you can beat me?” You think you can beat the Dragon?”
There was no response.
The dealer revealed the final card. A Two of Spades finished the set. The five cards—Ace of Diamonds, Ace of Hearts, Two of Diamonds, Eight of Hearts and a Two of Spades—were face up, the light of the room shining off their glossy surfaces.
“All in.” Dragon threw his remaining chips into the center. “That’s an extra $1,000,000. I’ve had enough. You need to go home to your day job and get out of this game!”
The man pulled his white-rimmed sunglasses down and smiled. “You’d be surprised if I told you what my day job is.” He pushed the rest of his chips into the center. “All in.”
Silence filled the room, the others in shock at the brazen attitude of the newcomer. Dragon turned his hand, revealing his two cards. An Ace of Spades and an Eight of Clubs. “I think you’ll find that’s what we call a Full House. Three of a kind and two of a kind. Three Aces and two Eights.” Dragon placed his arms around the chips.
“Hold on there, big shot. Do you want to see what I have?” The man with the white-rimmed sunglasses turned his hand over, revealing a Two of Hearts and a Two of Clubs. “This is what I call four of a kind. Four Twos. I believe this is higher than a Full House.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around the pile of chips. “Thanks for the game, boys.”
Dragon screamed and flipped the table. Men came storming into the room, each one with a dragon tattoo on the right side of their face. Flynn and Blake rushed out, and the dealer was right behind them.
“You cheat!” Dragon nodded to his men, who clenched their fists, ready to fight.
“An Ace and an Eight is also what is referred to as a dead man’s hand,” said the man with the white-rimmed sunglasses as the lights blew out.
A chilling coldness enveloped the room. There was a flash of white light. Surprised and painful screams filled the darkness as Dragon and his men cried out in agony, their cries fading to an eerie silence while the man with the white-rimmed sunglasses disappeared.
****
The station looked like a remnant of the past. There were brown bricks, a curved roof, and a famous face was occasionally sketched on the walls with a pipe in his mouth: the great Sherlock Holmes. This was Baker Street Station, London.
He turned to his father, who was reading a newspaper while they waited for the train. “People are staring at me again.”
His father looked over. “They’re just curious, is all.”
The boy, around ten years old, wore a brown leather cap and a thick blue woolen scarf which coiled around his neck. Everywhere he went, people stared at him. It was his eyes: they glowed dark green, two bright emeralds acting as a gateway to his soul.
“The train to Uxbridge is now approaching platform one. Please remain behind the yellow line.”
A train approached the station as the announcement ended. They got on and found two empty seats opposite each other.
“Can I sleep?”
His father nodded. “I’ll wake you up.”
The boy smiled and then allowed his eyelids to close, the glow of his eyes fading away. He found sleep quickly, the motion of the train lulling him into a deep slumber.
They had almost reached their destination when the train came to an emergency halt. A sense of nervousness crept into the train carriage as passengers shuffled in their seats.
Without warning the train lights went out, leaving them in pitch-black darkness. Frightened passengers voiced their concerns as they tried to figure out what had happened. At that exact moment the boy woke up, and right in front of his eyes, he saw his father unconscious, being dragged away by two men dressed in robes with short blue rods attached to their sides.
His dark green eyes pierced the darkness, allowing him to see with perfect vision. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. The other passengers, blinded in the dark, only heard the faint and muffled sounds of what was happening. It all happened too fast for him to react. He watched as the two men dragged his father away, and then with a flash, they disappeared. Other passengers could be heard getting out of their seats, but it was too late.
His father was gone, the men disappearing like shadows in the darkness. Fear gripped him, his tears silent as they rolled down his face. He didn’t understand what had happened.
“What’s going on? Someone, get the conductor!” The passengers were now using their phones for light.
He tried to tell them, but he was in shock, unable to utter a word.
“Please remain calm. We’re having a slight technical difficulty, but it’s under control. We should have the lights back on shortly.” The announcement crackled off.
He moved down the carriage to find a way out, but all the doors were sealed shut. He had to find his father. How could they disappear like that?
The lights returned, and everything seemed as it had been except for the cold and lonely seat once occupied by his father. Passengers returned to their seats, some annoyed with the delay. His breathing became faster, panic overtaking him. He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder.
“Are you OK? The lights are back on now. It was just a power failure.” A female passenger tried to comfort him, unaware of what had happened. “Where are your parents?”
He tried to speak, but again he couldn’t. The passengers were oblivious to the fact that someone had been taken. He remained silent, recalling the image of the men who took his father. The memory was still clear, and in the darkness, an image burned into his mind. They had worn strange white robes with a single symbol embroidered on their backs. Several hands, each clasping the wrist of the next hand, encircled a white globe with a magnifying glass at its center. The words veritas vos liberabit circled the symbol. He had no idea what that meant, but to him, it was the only connection to finding his father.
****
Dozens of skyscrapers occupied the night sky watching over the thousands of dots moving around down below. The hustle and bustle of busy people fed the hungry darkness of the city. London, a multicultural home, attracted talented individuals from across the globe. The River Thames flowed without a care in the world; lights spread all across the banks, and voices and laughter came from the water. London’s Tower Bridge stood with a formidable presence as the boats traveled underneath. Much further, above on the right bank of the river, one skyscraper stood higher than the rest, the father of skyscrapers. A colossal tower rose up into the sky with six letters branding the corporate identity of the company. The word “BELLUM” covered the top of the tower for all to see. Golden lights shone like beacons, signifying its presence. At the highest point, a semi-circular glass room was visible from the outside. The entrance had two great oak doors with carved wooden snakes lining the archway. Inside, several elderly men dressed in corporate attire looked deep in thought around a long mahogany table. Glasses of water were in front of each man, and a small circular green sweet was beside each glass.
