Azure Chronicles

By Jennifer Eileen Whalen

Jadis Bix must seek out a phantom organization that creates genetically altered soldiers.A riveting adventure awaits you in Jennifer Whalen’s debut novel combining hard-edged military combatants with good old experimental bioengineering. Set in the 1940s, this novel is deceptively futuristic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eloquent Books
• Release date: Dec 15, 2009

Jennifer Eileen Whalen

Jennifer Eileen Whalen enjoys the thrill and adventure of writing and is inspired by the works of Andrew K. Stone. Azure Chronicles is her first published book. Jennifer lives in Portsmouth, Rhode Island.

Book preview

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Animus’s Revival

Chapter Seventy-Nine: Maternal Love

Chapter Eighty: Icarus’s Onslaught

Chapter Eighty-One: Hunted

Chapter Eighty-Two: Emancipation

Chapter Eighty-Three: Stalemate

Chapter Eighty-Four: Another Escape!

Chapter Eighty-Five: Redemption

Chapter Eighty-Six: March of the Soldiers

Chapter Eighty-Seven: Fragmented Expectation Chapter Eighty-Eight: Watershard’s Illusion

Chapter Eighty-Nine: Fleeting Dream

Chapter Ninety: New Life

Chapter Ninety-One: Eclipse of the Heart

Chapter Ninety-Two: Death Unforgiven

Chapter Ninety-Three: Icarus’s Lament

Chapter Ninety-Four: Cause & Effect

Chapter Ninety-Five: Deceiver of Fools

Chapter Ninety-Six: Jadis vs. Watershard

Chapter Ninety-Seven: Chamber of Guf

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Angel’s Descent

Chapter Ninety-Nine: Rapture

Chapter One hundred: Watershed

Chapter One hundred-One: Ascension

AZURE CHRONICLES

Book One:

State of the Lions

Prologue

The Devil’s Farewell

Sin crouches at your door; it desires to have you,

but you must master it.

It was a long night, fueled by his own fear; the rapid swell of anxiety filled his entire being, Argo crouched down behind the laboratory’s main computer console. The young man slowly became aware of daunting discomforts, the fatigue in his hips, the ache of the balls of his feet, and the crippling hunger in his belly; it had been hours since the attack was provoked, and he had gone without the simple things, sleep, food and water. Argo gripped his Browning 9 pistol firmly; he was a tall man with a brawny build.

The subservient man possessed lengthy brown hair and resolute earthy brown eyes; he was in his late twenties, sweat glistened on his face and his heart thumped in his chest.

Argo dressed in casual clothing; he wore khaki slacks, sleek black dress shoes, and a dark blue dress shirt over which he wore a long bleach white lab technician coat, a jet black tie and belt completed his attire. A thump of paws drew Argo’s attention behind him; he slowly rose up on his toes and peeked up over the console, he cocked his pistol and aimed it directly ahead. The man released a long, slow breath; he kept his gun pointed at the shroud of roiling gas.

Minutes later, a large black and brown German Shepard emerged from the gas and padded across the floor; his claws clicked against the tile.

Argo let out an exasperated sigh and lowered himself behind the console; he lowered his gun at his side and raked his hand through his sweat-matted mane.

The back-up generators switched on seconds before and painted the room a reddish tint; the sound of weapons strapped to marching bodies echoed the upper levels and the tunnel-shaped corridors of the underground alpine facility.

Argo slowly rose up onto his toes and again peeked out from behind the console; the lab was in ruin, broken glass and several chemicals littered the floor, as did several massacred bodies of innocent scientists and doctors. Blood smeared the washed-out blue walls and splattered the ceiling. Argo carefully crawled out from behind the console and made his way across the spacious lab. The youth slowly approached the body of a female doctor; he pressed to fingers against her neck, but there was no pulse, the woman was dead.

The shatter of glass, followed by a panther-like snarl echoed the upper levels; shouted commands arose from the menacing ruckus, followed by unceasing gunfire. Minutes later, an uncanny silence befell the upper levels.

Argo swallowed hard; his eyes quivered, the young man crawled towards the far wall and pressed his palm flat against the cool tile. A sapphire light erupted from his palm and shot up along the wall vertically, bent horizontally and than zipped back down; a standard-sized door formed on the wall and the tile within the glowing frame disappeared. Argo peeked through and looked down the new hallway.

Numerous massacred bodies permeated the tunnel, as did loose documents, caged rats, and a dead German Shepard.

Argo slowly rose to a stand and carefully made his way down the hall; he cautiously stepped among the bodies, he held his gun low at his side. As Argo furthered into the tunnel, a thin layer of green gas obscured his feet. An uneasy feeling arose within Argo, as faint steps arose behind him. The man stopped; he cocked his gun and with his body’s turn, he drew the pistol. The man swept his gun side to side; he stepped back, as no one was there. Argo spun around quickly, as a warm breath brushed against the back of his neck; his eyes contracted completely at the figure before him.

The beast fixed the frightened man into his unyielding yellow eyes; his was small and gaunt, barely ten-years old. The beast stood upright like a man, but instead of flesh, his whole body was covered with albino fur. The beast possessed large feline ears, pawed feet and a bushy tail; he wore a pair of carrot-orange trousers. The beast stared at Argo; his ears drew back and he curled his lip into the beginnings of a snarl.

Argo trembled; he stepped backwards and drew his gun on the chimeric child.

In a flash, the beast seized Argo by the throat and forced the man to his knees; the child’s growl had a killing threat to it. The child grabbed the gun, threw his head forward and sank his teeth into the man’s shoulder.

Argo threw back his head and wailed in agony; he dropped his gun, as severe pain radiated throughout his entire body and nearly paralyzed him. The force of the beast’s jaw nearly broke his shoulder; Argo’s blood seeped through the material of his shirt and coat and stained it a hue of red.

Suddenly, a bullet exploded out of the mist from behind Argo, whizzed past him, and hit the beast in the shoulder.

The beast howled in pain; he dropped Argo and disappeared into the roiling gas.

Argo dropped back to his knees and reached for his gun when a solid mass struck him from behind. The fall lurched forward and hit the ground, as he rolled onto his back, a shadowed figure stepped forward; a weighty boot stepped on the man’s chest and applied pressure. Argo wheezed and through blurry eyesight, looked up at the figure; he grabbed the toe of the boot.

The mist shifted to one side and exposed a masked solider dressed in green fatigues; he carried a pistol. A bulky World War II hid his ominous face from the world. The man aimed the gun at Argo and shoved the barrel against the man’s forehead with enough force behind it to leave a bruise. The man fired his gun; a shroud of smoke curled up from the barrel; its thunderous bang echoed the halls.

Not all memories are good, not all events are joyful; life is a fickle thing, filled with good times and bad times. This goes back more years then I care to admit. All I wanted to do was to regain a most precious gift, in which was so wrongfully stolen from us, and, in defying nature, disrupting her natural flow, I have condemned not only myself, but I have also condemned those I love. I was naïve; completely oblivious to the ominous web I had so idiotically woven, thus cursing myself with the utmost unfathomable sins one can ever perform. By my own hands, sweat and blood; the world is plagued by a feverish terror; he was the first, a child born of man and beast, with senses heightened beyond that of normal conception, possessing the instinct of eminent danger; I have given rise to an Aryan race. He was strong and agile, with flawless construction.

Chapter One

Requiem

The sun’s first light slowly peeked up over the horizon; its fiery glow painted the landscape a hue of golden ginger, and a cool, crisp wind trailed through the low rising hills of Germany. It was a dreary September morning for one man, despite the clear sky and fair weather.

Jadis Bix stood silently; he was one of six men to carry David Falman to his final resting place. Jadis was tall with a scanty frame; he was a young man, barely thirty-years old. The young Major possessed insipid skin, semi-long obsidian black hair and roguish amber eyes.

Jadis Bix wore his dress uniform, which consisted of cobalt blue trousers, sleek black dress shoes and a long cobalt blue coat with silver button along the front; silver hem trimmed the collar, sleeve cuffs and bottom edge of the man’s coat. All the appropriate pins of a man his rank were there, proudly displayed; white gloves and a dress hat completed his stately attire.

An obsidian black sash crossed the front of Jadis’s precisely done uniform; a long, thin sword wrought with authentic gold hung conceitedly at his side. The man took in a lengthy breath and bowed his head; the sleek black brim of his hat hid his rueful gaze.

The clatter of hoof beats against wet cobblestone sounded in the distance; minutes later, a horse-drawn wagon adorned with several red roses pulled up to the six casket bears. The driver sat erect; his eyes fixed forward. The man dressed in black trousers, shoes and a long coat; a top hat covered the man’s balding head, lengthy gray hair draped his lanky shoulders.

The horse that pulled the wagon was a muscular all-black Clydesdale; he snorted and tapped his front hoof on the cobblestone.

Jadis raised his remorseful gaze and looked at the casket laden inside the wagon; he sighed.

The sleek white casket was of medium size, a pure gold trim adorned the casket and a drapery of blue rose laden the top of the casket.

Jadis looked at the casket and sighed; his eyes glistened with unshed tears. The Major stood rigid, he was the first in line, and the bears stood in two single file lines. Jadis ignored the wind’s chilly breath on the back of his neck.

The horse pulled the cart up through the row and flared his large nostrils; he whinnied and bobbed his head.

Jadis along with the five other casket bears approached the wagon and removed the white casket; the men gently set the casket down and stood boot camp rigid.

The horse snorted and pulled the wagon away and down a narrow path that led away from the old parade route.

A high-ranking officer took his position at the front of the procession; he was tall and slender with short black hair and frothy blue eyes. The man rode astride a white quarter horse; he too dressed in the military’s dress uniform. The man rode with an imperial fashion.

Jadis once again fixed his doleful gaze frontward and stared at a lamppost in the distance. After a moment, Jadis and his companions simultaneously lifted the casket and propped it onto their shoulders; their movements were perfectly synchronized, as smooth as water. Together, they carried the casket with ease, as the young man inside never weighed much. Jadis lowered his gaze as he walked.

Behind the casket bears, the entire military marched in strict formation; both men and women carried ceremonial swords on their belts. A group of soldiers walked pompously next to qualified German Shepards.

The city’s inhabitants gathered on the sidelines and watched the funeral procession with rueful eyes. Giant wreaths of blue roses adorned the several shops and houses in Munich, as did the military’s banner; a golden male lion rearing embroidered the emerald green velvet tapestry adorned with gold trim.

A girl with long blonde hair and rueful blue eyes stood in the middle of the street; she was small and gaunt, barely twelve-years old. The youth wore a long white nightgown; in hand, she held an officer’s hat. The girl stared ahead and watched the procession march towards her; tears streamed down her emaciated face.

A tall brunette woman leapt out into the street and hugged the child condolingly; she looked up at the officer astride the horse with pleading eyes. The woman picked up the child and walked back into the crowd.

Brother! The child’s mournful cries tore through the morning air.

Jadis felt his heart sink; he clenched a fist at his side and then it happened, the tears came and streamed down his face.

The procession marched up a slanted cobblestone path and soon came to a pair of giant cast iron gates. The gates stood almost twelve feet in height; a statue of a male lion perched itself on pillars on either side of the gate and kept a vigilant watch over the fallen brothers and sisters of the state military.

Jadis obliged the weight of the guilt that slowly began to devour his soul; he sighed and looked down. The reality of David’s death struck Jadis hard, as the gates, long, ear-rattling creak filled his ears.

Once the gates were open, the procession continued down the cobblestone path worn with age. The procession came to a small lot beneath an elongated cherry blossom tree; the six casket bears slowly lowered the casket into its lot and then stepped back into formation.

All eight hundred offers saluted, as the trumpet player’s melancholy tune carried across the sacrosanct ground. Twenty-one riflemen stepped forward and presented their guns; they fired three volleys simultaneously over the fallen man’s grave.

Jadis bowed his repentant face; he stood alone in the cemetery, hours after the mourners had left. The Major raised his doleful gaze and looked at the polished headstone before him.

David Thomas Falman

10-03 1928- 9-01-1946

Killed in the line of duty

Jadis lowered his head; the brim of his hat hid his eyes. Who am I supposed to protect now…? he asked in a low, strained voice.

A young boy stood on the other side of the cemetery gates; he watched the grief-stricken man through the bars. The juvenile officer appeared to be no older then eighteen-years of age.

The boy possessed tanned skin, thick brown hair and emerald green eyes in which hid behind a pair of thick black-framed eyeglasses; he too dressed in the cobalt blue uniform. A blue beret completed his intellectual look.

I don’t know which is more absurd, you for dying or me for not stopping you. Jadis breathed; a deep anguish evident in his voice. Who am I to protect now, David? A cool wind blew through the man’s sleek mane. Jadis breathed deep, his sorrow had gotten the best of him, and he sank to his knees. The man dug his fingers deep into the newly upturned earth and cried; tears streamed down the man’s thin face. I’m sorry… Jadis sobbed.

The boy pushed up his glasses and turned away; a cool wind blew through his hair. The boy stood quiet; his back faced the gate. Brother… The young brunette shifted his gaze slightly, one last look upon the grieving man; he listened to the man’s mournful wails. After a moment, he sighed, and he too left the cemetery.

Chapter Two

Creation of Sin

The deepest corners of hell are mine to bear, for the bane of a thousand miseries is the absolute in which I can repent, it is his punishment onto me, for I have forsaken those I love… and for that, my suffering is justified.

Archer stood silently on the outcropping of a high cliff, inches from the edge, a deadly plunge. A cool, crisp wind trailed through his lengthy hair; he looked out towards the sloping valley below. Lush green grass carpeted the hilled landscape and giant cherry blossom trees dappled the valley. Archer was tall with a rapier-like build; he possessed dark black hair and roguish eyes.

Archer dressed casually, he wore khaki slacks, dress shoes and a blue dress shirt, over which he wore a white lab coat. A black belt completed his attire. Archer held his pistol low at his side; smoke curled up from the barrel, his grip strangled the gun’s handle with a force that turned his knuckles white. The blood of his victim splattered the side of his arrogant face.

Sir! A youthful voice shouted frantically.

A door appeared behind Archer and the russet surface within the glowing frame vanished and exposed a hallway.

A young physician scurried inside and nearly stumbled over his own feet; Julies Nore was tall and slim, he stood shorter than Archer did. The adolescent possessed short, thick brown hair and brilliant emerald green eyes, which hid behind a pair of thin, silver-framed bifocals. Julies wore mint green scrubs and white sneakers. Sir, I heard a gunshot, are you all right? he asked timidly.

Archer did not answer; he dropped his gun and it hit the ground with a metallic clank. Archer drew a knife from his belt and crouched down.

Julies adjusted his glasses. Sir? he stepped forward.

Minutes later, Archer rose to a stand; he dropped his bloody knife and sighed.

Julies’s eye contracted, as he saw a dead woman at Archer’s feet; her eyes were open and gazed up at the sky.

The blonde had been shot in the head; she was dressed in watery blue hospital scrubs.

Archer turned around and looked at the submissive doctor; a newborn child was cradled in the man’s arm.

Julies adjusted his glasses and gasped slightly.

The child was small and gaunt; the only non-human feature he possessed was a bush black cattail.

Archer looked at the fussing newborn and than to Julies. Take him… he’s an incomplete. he breathed.

Julies blinked and took the child; he cradled the baby and looked at Archer. Incomplete, Sir?

The child does not bear Cain’s mark… Archer breathed.

Julies turned the child slightly and looked at the baby’s shoulder; he than looked to the galling man before him. Cain, Sir? he asked.

Archer nodded. You are aware of the biblical story of Cain and Able, right?

Julies nodded. Yes, Sir.

For years, I have been trying to reproduce a chimera with Cain’s DNA, alas this one in another failure… you will severer the tail and make him a Brittle fang. Archer voiced.

Julies looked at the infant and then to Archer. Sir, I-If I may… Julies stammered; his eyes swirled with fear and guilt. Perhaps the original DNA is weak from reproduction…and that could be the very cause in which the kittens are becoming more and more distant from Cain’s bloodline…

Archer raised an eyebrow coolly. Continue, doctor.

Julies pushed up his glasses. I’m just saying, maybe it’s time to stop. You had a good run, and…

Archer raised his hand sharply, and backhanded Julies across the face.

The lens of the doctor’s glasses cracked and shattered, and lacerated Julies just above his eye. Julies stumbled back, and shielded the child.

This project will be over and done with when I say, not you, not anyone, but me! Savvy? Archer snarled.

The infant began to cry.

Julies nodded quickly and cradled the fussing babe. Shh….

A scowl plastered Archer’s face. The man whistled and called out an unfamiliar name. Bauer!

A towering figure leapt down from his perch upon another outcropping of the cliff; he landed just behind Julies.

Julies spun round and stepped back as the figure slowly stood, and loomed over the doctor’s diminutive form.

Yes, Father? The stranger breathed through the old gasmask; his was voice raspy.

Archer grinned. Strip down. the man waved a brittle hand.

Bauer nodded, and removed his mask; it revealed a badly disfigured face. Patches of white fur were missing; a handful of flesh was gone on the right side of his cheek, desperately held together by three thin metal rods, exposing the bone. The chimera’s fierce red eyes were sunken in and his cat ears gnawed. Bauer then slipped off the threadbare gloves and boots. Both of his abnormally large pawed hands and feet were severely scarred and deformed. The chimera finally slipped out of the olive green poncho that hid his powerful build. Severe burns covered Bauer’s masculine form and the left side of his chest was completely opened; held together by four steel rods, divulging his organs, shielded by a thick, clear glass material Archer called, Validus Lanx.

Now turn… Archer commanded; an arrogant smirk tugged at his face.

The chimera turned; thick steel staples trailed down his spine, Bauer’s tail was long and two rods held his left shoulder together. Just below his right shoulder blade was a familiar mark. Bauer’s mark consisted of an albino serpent woven through a broken pentacle.

That there, is the mark of Cain…the white serpent is an evil, conniving creature; a well-suited mark for his kin… Archer grinned; he snapped his fingers.

Julies gasped and turned round. Y-Yes, Sir?

Archer looked hard into the doctor’s submissive gaze.

Julies stepped back; his eyes were wide, he held the infant close. My God… Julies swallowed hard and then stepped back again. I-Is he one of them? Julies asked.

Archer nodded. Yes, doctor. Bauer here is one of the last remaining originals. The man said with pride.

Julies blinked; he looked at the towering chimera.

He is a pure blood of Cain, but alas the years have not been kind. Bauer’s aging, and when the reach the prime of their youth-the antigens accelerate and break down-quickening decay. Archer announced. And the result is what you see before you.

Julies looked back at Archer. How have you prolonged his death?

Two years with the aid of Adulescens flower. Archer said.

Adulescens flower? Julies asked. What’s that, Sir?

Adulescens flower is a unique elixir; it was produced some years ago by a man named Gordon. Once administered in a gas form, the elixir prolongs aging by retarding the growth hormones of the body to an extent. Archer announced.

Bauer dressed himself quickly and then scurried over to the dead woman; he crouched down and sniffed her. The chimera’s eyes narrowed and he let out a low, irate growl.

Two soldiers walked up and cover the body with a sheet, Bauer watched curiously, as the woman vanished beneath the white shroud.

Julies looked at Archer. As I suggested earlier, Sir, my theory is that the original DNA is weakening from reproduction.

Archer frowned. Then if that is the case, I will just have to pay my old friend, Argo a little visit.

Julies looked to Archer. Argo still lives, Sir? Julies pushed up his glasses. But, there are no records of any survivors from the massacre…

Archer looked at Julies hard. There would be no records of such, concerning that man, for he is a mere ghost of this facility… a traitor…

What of the others, Sir? Julies asked timidly.

Send another body topside and than perhaps he’ll get the message this time around. Archer brushed passed Julies, stopped in the doorway and turned slightly. Oh, and doctor?

Julies turned. "Y-Yes, Sir?

You better not be the cause of this set back, you hear… because, if you are, your fate will be the same as that officer’s, perhaps worse. Archer announced.

Julies swallowed hard. I-I assure, Sir, I am not the cause of such a delay. The doctor said timidly.

Archer turned and left the simulated valley; he continued down the tunnel-shaped halls.

The doctor looked at Bauer, who was still crouched next to the woman, sniffing her and occasionally pawing her lifeless form; he sighed. Come on, let’s go…

The massive chimera rose to a stand, his arched form loomed over Julies, he followed the doctor out into the corridor.

The droplets of blood were the only notes of red in an otherwise washed-out blue bathroom. Julies idly noticed this, as he carefully administered a handkerchief to his injury, the blood ran down his face.

Julies knew the wound would continue to bleed unless he did something, but in truth, taking care of the wire-thin gash was not the highest priority on his list right now.

The infant’s kittenish cry drew the doctor’s attention away from his wound; he hurried out into the living room part of his dorm.

The kitten clung onto the cushion, as a baby monkey clung to its mother.

Julies picked up the baby and propped the fussing infant against him. You know…you’re really cute… Julies walked towards the kitchen. I bet you’re hungry… The doctor entered the tiny kitchen, heated up a bottle of milk and then sat down in a rocking chair. Julies fed the hungry kitten.

The kitten wrapped his tail around Julies’s arm and greedily suckled.

Gage. That is what I’ll call you. Julies smiled, as he cradled the child.

As Gage greedily suckled, he looked at Julies with large, round eyes, he purred.

Chapter Three

Scars

Jadis slowly rose to a stand and slipped his hat back on; he ran his thumb sharply along the sleek brim. "Who am I to protect now?

Just how long do you plan on waiting like this, hm? A familiar voice issued from behind the Major.

Jadis shifted his gaze slightly, and saw Marcos Gower standing behind him. Hmm?

Gower was slightly taller than Jadis and more physically built. Marcos wore his dark mane slicked back; he fixed stone grey eyes onto the Major.

I’ll wait as long as necessary. Jadis replied numbly, and looked back to the headstone. And beyond that, if I so must…

Marcos shook his head, and slipped on his dress hat. The man sighed and headed down the hill; he stopped at the gates and looked back at Jadis. Marcos grimaced and then left.

Hours after the funeral, Jadis was outside in the torrential rain. The man stood waste-deep in a trench; he continuously dug a channel with nothing more then an old, worn boat ore. The Major dug hard and deep, a routine he so ruthlessly practiced as punishment onto himself for failures. The man dug the hole nonstop; Jadis’s white shirt was disheveled, his sleeves rolled up just above his forearms. Mud soiled the blue material of his uniform pants. The man’s heavy combat boots sank deep into the wet, mucky earth.

Marcos walked up and squatted down near the trench; he looked at Jadis. Why do you continue this futile wait, Sir? Marcos inquired curiously.

Jadis turned around, and wiped the rain from his face. The man smeared mud across his high-boned cheek. Jadis looked at Marcos; dull brown eyes met cold grey. I wait because that is what I promised her, and I am a man of my word… Jadis announced, and averted himself away from the man.

Marcos turned his fatigue hat around so that the brim now faced the back. It’s been two years now, what makes you so sure that she’s even alive? Marcos asked.

Jadis stopped; he sighed, and dropped his muddy ore. What makes you so sure she isn’t? Jadis shifted a glancing stare at Marcos.

Marcos grimaced. I was there, Sir; I saw the horror unravel myself… Marcos looked at Jadis hard. And there’s no way she could have survived.

You don’t know that! Jadis seethed in a harsh whisper.

Marcos let out an exasperated sigh. Even if she managed to survive, she won’t be the same woman you knew so long ago.

Jadis’s eyes narrowed; he sighed, and picked up his ore, he gripped it tightly, and drove it into the ground. And what makes you so sure, Gower?

What Sir, gives you so much hope? Marcos asked, and rose to a stand.

The Major turned, and barely gave Marcos an upward glance. You abandoned her… Jadis took his ore and continued to dig once more.

Marcos scowled. I abandoned no one; I simply did my duty… The man’s eyes were resolute.

You left her for dead, damn it! Jadis seethed and threw down his ore in a rage.

Hostiles were all around us, there was no time to retrieve a solider that was already beyond saving! Marcos hissed.

Jadis scowled. You don’t know that! he seethed.

No, but what I do know is this, twenty of my men died covering your ass, just so you could save your precious angel. Twenty lives given just to save one; we surely would have died too, if Harahan and Jessie hadn’t pulled us out of that hell! Marcos seethed.

A 1941 black Sedan pulled up near the obstacle course, the back window rolled down slightly and a pair of curious brown eyes set upon the two arguing men.

The hum of a car engine drew Jadis and Marcos’s attention towards the sleek vehicle.

Jadis’s rueful gaze was drawn to the alluring amber eyes behind the tinted window. It’s her… Jadis breathed in a breath that sounded as if it were his last. It’s her…

Within minutes, the window rolled up and the car pulled out, and gradually shrank into the distance.

There Bix, now is your chance. Marcos waved a hand. Go to your precious angel; go and see, but dare not hope, for she won’t be the same woman you loved so long ago.

Jadis climbed out of the trench, and raked a hand through his rain-sodden hair. The man looked at Marcos hard. You don’t know that! The man turned to leave. You don’t know.

Bix, why won’t you listen to reason? Marcos grabbed Jadis’s wrist.

Suddenly, Jadis turned around quickly; he swept the man’s knee and knocked Marcos flat on his back. The Major brought his leg around and stepped on the man’s throat; he leaned in and looked Marcos full in the face; a fuming rage swirled around in Jadis’s eyes. The Major stared into Marcos’s rebellious stare; he blinked and stepped back.

Marcos lay there; he looked dumbfounded. The man breathed heavily; his gaze fixed onto Jadis.

Jadis raised a hard stare. You would have no doubly committed the same act, I myself hastened to do if it were Anna out there in the Lieutenant’s stead… he lowered his head and turned.

Son of a bitch! Marcos leapt up and tackled the man; he slammed Jadis facedown into the mud. Damn you, don’t you dare speak her name! Ever, you hear me! Marcos seethed angrily.

Suddenly, Jadis rolled onto his back; a strange cerulean miasma swirled around in his eyes, he punched Marcos across the face. The man then gripped Marcos’s shoulders tightly, yanked him forward and rolled backwards. Jadis launched Marcos off him with a powerful kick. Jadis grunted, and rolled to the side.

Marcos flew through the air and landed on his back, skidded through the mud and slammed into a stack of cargo crates. The man groaned and slowly sat upright, he wiped the blood from his lip. You’re a fool, Bix! Marcos grunted.

No Gower, Jadis leapt to his feet and walked passed Marcos; he stopped and he turned slightly; he did not even look at his offender. You’re the fool, for ever having lost the will to hope. Jadis turned, and slipped one hand into his pant pocket and left; his steps waned in the distance.

Marcos sat there, head bowed. The rain rushed down against him, the sound of indistinct thunder resonanced not too far off. Dark, billowing clouds descended overhead. Marcos fell back onto the muddy ground, arms spread out; he looked up. Take me now, away from this hell; I’ve done my time! he shouted; his sprawled out form drenched.

Chapter Four

Forsaken Angel

Part. One

Dante Danbury stood silently; she stared at the vaguely familiar military uniform that had been laid out on the hospital bed. The blonde slowly turned and looked at herself in the full length mirror. Dante was tall and thin, barely in her late twenties. The woman possessed long tawny hair and submissive amber eyes; she dressed in a pair of watery blue scrubs. Dante turned and picked up the blue jacket; she looked at the jacket, and then set it back down on the bed.

Jadis walked down the long corridor quietly; his military-issue boots clicked against the stone grey tile. The Major kept a strict, rigid pace; his dark, tense gaze fixed forward. An extra uniform delicately draped his forearm; the Major carried a pair of small black combat boots at his side.

Jadis’s uniform was similar to that of his funeral wear, without the remnants of the dress hat, gloves, sash and sword; he drew a deep breath as he reached the door at the hall’s end, an uneasy feeling slowly swelled within him. Jadis slowly reached for the brass knob, he paused for a moment, and a look of hesitancy crossed his subtle face. The Major grabbed the knob, gradually turned it and quietly pushed open the door; he entered the small room and walked across the floor over to a large window.

Major Bix! A young dark-haired soldier jumped to his feet, and knocked over his chair; he dropped his book.

How long has she been in there? Jadis turned slightly; his eyes downcast.

The Lieutenant’s been detained for some time now, Sir. Three hours at the most. The young Officer stammered, and looked directly at the daunting Major.

As you were, Private. Jadis gestured; his voice was numb, as he kept his gaze on the woman through the one-sided glass.

Yes, Sir. The officer fixed his chair upright and then dropped to one knee; he reached for his book. I bet it’ll be nice to speak with her again, huh, Sir? Cabit raised a light gaze and smiled; he stood and set his book back down onto his desk.

Jadis nodded; his eyes glazed-over. Yeah. he breathed; his voice low and nervy.

How long has it been since you two have spoken, Sir? Cabit turned slightly and looked at Jadis curiously.

Jadis’s eyes narrowed. Too long… he drew in another deep breath. Jadis sighed and folded his arms. As the Major looked through the window again; his palms started to sweat and his heart rate accelerated.

Jay! A familiar female voice cried frantically.

Jadis shook his head, as he saw a silhouetted figure run towards him, followed by the indistinct sound of a pistol. Jadis clamped a hand to his forehead and grimaced.

Sir, are you all right? Cabit asked anxiously.

Jadis shut his eyes and groaned. Yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing. The man opened his eyes again; he breathed deep, a brew of nauseating emotions churned around in his stomach.

I can call Lieutenant Kelley, Sir? Cabit stepped forward. You don’t look well, Sir.

No damn it, I said I’m fine! Jadis seethed, as he tasted the bile forcing its way up and coated the inside of his mouth; he swallowed hard and sighed.

Cabit stepped back, and looked through the window again.

Jadis straightened and looked through the window, too; he breathed deep, and watched the blonde intently. Forgive me, Dante. Jadis whispered to himself.

Cabit looked at Jadis and blinked; the expression of curiosity and confusion crossed his face, he stared a moment, before he returned his sight frontward.

The room in which the woman occupied was small; a thick, blue matt covered the floor. Several exercise machines inhabited the diminutive, plain white room; but Dante’s favorite was the pull-up bar and balancing beam. The adolescent woman dressed in a black sports-bra top and shorts. A long, sweat matted mane draped her emaciated shoulders. With each straining pull-up, a memory flashed through her mind in the mannerism of lightening, swift and sharp. Dante’s dreams were always the same, fragmented images, muted words and a shroud of perplexity.

The first image that appeared was of her, she dressed in a vaguely recognizable military uniform, a rifle slung across her back. A cool breeze trailed through Dante’s long blond mane. Clipped into a bun, a small tuff of hair peeked up from behind her head. A massive German Shepard, that appeared more wolf then dog sat at her side. The blonde saluted, and stepped into formation with her fellow Officers.

Jadis continued to watch Dante, and noticed a disfiguring burn across the low of her back.

Interesting brand don’t you think, Sir? The young officer looked at Jadis, and handed him a small white clothes box.

Hmm… Jadis turned, and looked at the young man. What’s this? he raised an eyebrow coolly.

It’s for the Lieutenant… Cabit replied softly.

Jadis nodded and took the box. Thank-you.

Dante pulled herself up again, and held her position; her empty russet eyes fixed forward, she stared blankly at the wall, as wisps of flaxen hair strayed into her eyes. Another image lapsed the first; Dante stood at attention, this time she wore a black poncho over her uniform, she raised her hand sharply, and struck a shadowed face; tears welled in her angry, sad gaze. Dante’s right palm stung fiercely; a slapping sound resonanced her mind.

After a moment’s pause Jadis turned and headed for another door, he reached for the knob and turned it, but did not open the door. Jadis swallowed hard, sweat trickled down his brow; he then slowly opened the door and entered the second room, as he still watched Dante doing her pull-ups.

A blur of images rushed passed her mind, so quick that Dante herself could barely make sense of them.

Jadis stood quiet, and closed the door behind him; he watched the flaxen-haired woman a while longer.

Hearing Jadis’s almost subtle steps, Dante dropped down from the bar, and landed onto the matt like a cat. May I help you? Dante rose to a stand, her back faced Jadis.

Jadis stepped forward and tried to speak, but the numbness of Dante’s voice stunned him.

After a moment, she leisurely turned; her monotonous gaze pierced Jadis’s heart.

Jadis cleared his throat. Lieutenant Danbury. he stammered. Jadis’s heart pounded in his throat.

Yes?" A tone of uncertainty lingered on her voice.

The Fuhrer wishes to see you. Jadis stepped forward and gave Dante her belongings.

No sooner, did Dante take the uniform, a white light flashed in her mind; indistinct shouting and gunfire surround her.

Jadis noticed Dante’s eyes had glazed-over. Lieutenant? Jadis tilted his head slightly.

Dante shook her head; she took the box and boots, she bowed slightly. Thank-you, Sir. I will take my leave now. Dante looked at her uniform.

Jadis stepped back and nodded. Alright, I’ll be outside then. he turned and left the room.

Dante turned and walked through another small door; on the other side was a shower room.

Jadis stood in the other room; he paced back and forth, head bowed and arms folded.

Well, that went well, huh? A voice issued behind Jadis.

Jadis looked up, greeted by a stocky, medium-sized man with sandy colored hair and dark green eyes. Lieutenant Kelley? Jadis blinked. Where’s Cabit? he inquired curiously.

Kelley rose from his chair. I sent Cabit for some grub, figured you might be hungry…

Jadis frowned, the bile was pushing its way up again and the revolting savor was enough to make Jadis spew. I think I’m going to be sick. Jadis murmured numbly.

She didn’t remember you, did she? Kelley looked at Jadis, and raised a condoling look.

Jadis looked away briefly; he stood quiet with his head bowed; he looked like a boy who has just lost his last baseball over a high fence. Jadis grimaced, folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

The room quickly filled with steam, she stood there, eyes closed and head bowed. Dante allowed the hot water to rush down her hair and body. More mangled images raced through her mind.

Who am I? Dante raised a dull gaze, and directly in front of her stood a woman identical to herself; she dressed in military attire. Who are y-you? Dante asked in a low tone. Dark, confident eyes met dark, timid eyes.

I am you…and you are me… The ghostly woman voiced.

Dante blinked, the water still cascaded down her body.

The ghostly woman turned and closed her eyes, her back faced Dante; she stepped backwards into the woman’s physical body, her image dissipated like steam.

Dante breathed deep, a strange and heavy weight overcame her.

If you want my opinion; I still think Dr. Windolf should have kept her a bit longer… Kelley breathed, and sat back down.

Jadis looked at Kelley. Think so?

Kelley nodded. Yeah man. Enduring such a trauma, there’s bound to still be psychological damage, why it’s only been what…? he looked Jadis full in the face.

Two years… Jadis breathed; his eyes downcast.

You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened, Sir. Kelley said coolly.

Jadis looked at Kelley; he grimaced.

Dante turned off the water; she dried off and slipped into her uniform; she averted back towards the mirror, and saw the burn on her back. Dante slipped on a grey tank top and then her military coat, Dante fastened the gold buttons along the front. After, she slipped into her boots; she tucked the cuffs of her pant legs inside. Dante stood and smoothed out any wrinkles in her uniform, she then walked over to the counter and opened the white box.

Inside the box was a brush, a small round tin and a jade butterfly barrette. Dante looked at the somewhat familiar effects, she took the brush and brushed her hair to a smooth feel, a lock of pure white hair strayed into her face. Dante then took the butterfly clip and looked at it a while; she gently ran her thumb across it, the clip was soft and painfully detailed.

After a moment, Dante put the clip in her mouth; she ran both hands through her long mane; she pulled her hair back and took the clip with one hand, Dante then started to clip her hair. Darkness slowly surrounded her, the room gradually fading away. Dante stood in a deep obsidian void; she stared forward, and dropped her arms at her side.

A shadowed figure appeared before her.

Who are you? Dante asked curiously; a slight fear evident in her voice; she dropped her hair clip; it hit the floor with a clank.

The silhouetted form leisurely walked towards Dante, a series of butterflies made of pure golden light gracefully glided past them, a trail of golden sparkles gently rained down.

Dante stared awestruck at the dazzling sight.

A giant butterfly floated across the shadow’s face; a pair of angry, crazed yellow eyes emerged from behind the butterfly.

Watch them as they approach… A raspy voice whispered. The eyes widened in a madding rage.

The golden butterflies swarmed down, and whirled around Dante; the flap of their wings sounded like autumn leaves crackling. From the darkness, an eerie hand shot out and reached for Dante.

The woman watched; an unseen force paralyzed her.

A frightened shriek caught Jadis and Kelley’s attention. Jadis shot Kelley a concerned look and ran for the door. Glass shattering resonated through the room; the Major winced. Dante! he called and sprinted through the room.

Dear God. Kelley huffed. That can’t be good! he hurried after Jadis.

Jadis grabbed the doorknob quickly and ripped the door to the gym open, and smacked Kelley right in the face. The Major bolted in, sprinted across the floor and stopped short at the shower room door.

Kelley skidded to a stop, and almost knocked into Jadis. Damn Jadis, I think you broke my nose. Kelley held his nose; his voice nasally.

Jadis ignored Kelley and reached for the doorknob.

Dude, what are you doing? Kelley asked anxiously.

Jadis looked back at Kelley. What the hell does it look like? Jadis seethed.

Kelley rolled his eyes. She could be naked, man! Kelley exclaimed excitedly.

Then she can reprimand me later! Jadis barked, and opened the door quickly; he looked inside, and found Dante on the floor.

The confused woman was propped up in the corner against the wall, her nose bled. The mirror above the sink was broken and the small round tin lay