Peacemakers (Peacemaker Origins Book 1) (39 page)

“I will have both your heads!” The French Councilman yelled.  Mortimer drew a pistol and shot him the heart.  The man groaned and his head slumped forward. 

“Anyone else?” Mortimer asked, twirling in a circle.  The remaining Council members stayed silent.

Dr. Fatum’s assistant pushed one of the monitoring machines along the stonework.  It had covered a large gap in the wall seamlessly.  And from that gap now came a slow clapping.  A well-dressed gentleman emerged from the darkness, bowing slightly so his top hat would clear the entrance.  He wore a small cape over his suit, and a finely crafted golden lion, roaring in triumph, covered his face.  His sinister laughter came from behind the mask. 

“It is a great honor to finally meet The Council,” Mr. Vault said.  Mr. Steel emerged from the gap, turning sideways so his portly frame could fit through.  He was wearing an intricately sculpted goat mask with rounded horns. He was followed by Mr. Black, whose fang-bearing snake mask appeared as he gingerly walked through the opening.  The doctor’s assistant scurried to set up a tripod and accordion camera.  He loaded the film as quickly as he could.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to preserve the moment,” Mr. Vault said.  “I have waited for it for such a long, long time.”  A blinding magnesium flash lit up the tower. 

“Who are you?” Uruk demanded. 

“We are your replacements,” Mr. Vault said.  “We are now the superior species, the bigger
fish.  And
you
, you will soon be extinct.”

“This was a trap?  How did you manage it?” asked the German man with the thick glasses.

“For years, I have wondered who you are and where to find you,” Mr. Vault answered.  “A little planning and a lot of money go quite a long way.  Who would have known that a simple promise of immortality would have drawn you all out of your caves?”

“Curse you!” one of the Russian twins yelled.

“Curse you to hell,” the other added with a sneer.

“Dr. Fatum, if you wouldn’t mind,” Mr. Vault said.  The doctor flipped a switch and, all at once, electricity surged through The Council members.  Their bodies shook violently, and pools of urine collected under a few of them.  Mortimer and Estella grinned.  The electricity shut off.  “As I was saying, although Dr. Fatum may be close to discovering immortality . . . unfortunately, he is not quite there yet.”

“You have no idea what you are doing,” Uruk said.

“You will pay for this,” said Larak, the Middle Eastern man.

“Even in your final moments, you do not concede.  I applaud you,” Mr. Steel said. 

“Agreed, Mr. Steel,” Mr. Vault said.  “Now, I will give you all a moment to make peace with whatever deity you expect to see shortly.”  The Council members barely had enough time to blink their defiant eyes.  “OK, time’s up.”

Dr. Fatum cranked a knob, and a low-pitch drone became a high-pitch squeal.  He threw a switch, and a surge of electricity flowed through all The Council members once more.  They nearly shook out of their restraints, some of them moving so violently that they chipped their teeth.  Blue bolts of electricity sparked to and from their brilliant gold chains and medallions.  The German man’s glasses fell to the ground just before his red robe caught on fire.  Within minutes, the entire Council was ablaze and screaming.  Mr. Black covered his ears.  Mr. Steel nodded anxiously.  Mr. Vault basked in the warmth and screams.  Mortimer lit a cigarette.  Estella reloaded her revolver.  Dr. Fatum adjusted dials.  His assistant manned the camera.

Minutes later, the tower was quiet.  The awful smell of charred flesh permeated the tower, and putrid smoke rose from the makeshift roof.  It was raining harder.  Raindrops sizzled as they fell through the cracks in the roof and landed upon the scorched, blackened bodies that looked like ancient, writhing mummies adorned with smoking gold medallions—medallions whose alien inscriptions now glowed red hot.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Vault said, pulling his lion’s head knife from his inner coat pocket.  He used it to carefully remove one of the gold medallions by the chain from what used to be Uruk.  He held the smoldering disc in front of him.  “The world is ours for the taking.” 

Mr. Vault’s smile widened under his mask.  A magnesium flash went off as Dr. Fatum’s assistant took another picture.         

PEACEMAKERS

READ THE NEXT CHAPTER AT:

seanmichaelodea.weebly.com

ACKNOWLEDMENTS

There are countless people to thank for the development, execution, and delivery of this book.  I wish to recognize them in George R.R. Martin-esque fashion:

Lindsay the Editor.  Kelly the Illustrator.  Sean the Graphic Designer.  Olivia the Fan Artist.  Zach the Test Reader.  John the Sage.  Kathy & Steve the Fans.  Rob & Erin the Heralds.  Jacob & Sarah the Junior Heralds.  Nick the Papa Bear. Jon the Geography Master.  Tom the Reader. 

My wife and children: Rachel the Patient, Rachel the Kind, and Rachel the Loving.  Seamus the Spirited.  Declan the Happy.

Also, a very sincere thanks to Jack McDevitt, Master of Science Fiction, who took time out of his busy schedule to help guide a writer seeking publication.  Thanks, Jack!