Shadows of Penumbra

By Margaret Alexander

Seven sins. Seven souls. Seven weapons.

Something sinful resides in Diane's memories, she's certain of it. That's why she traded them in to protect her father and her best friend.

Trained in the task of erasing criminal masterminds' memories, Diane yawns at the notion of converting yet another Rebel. But when her target turns out to be a little less than human and a bit more than demon, a whole new breed of beings invade Diane's world and lure her into another dimension, where the world is a ruined, enchanted mirror of reality.

Some of them are ideal doppelgangers of humans called Shadows; others are hybrids with sinister intentions. And they're about to reveal a lot more than the reason for the trauma in her past or why the world is ending. Like who are the biggest pawns in a conspiracy to "perfect" mankind. Diane must push her mind past all limits and master a set of elements no human has ever controlled to stand any chance of confronting the organization responsible.

After they’re through with her, the Shadows give her a choice: to live the life she's always wanted or conquer seven powerful devices that will even the odds. Good thing Diane always has a trick up her sleeve, and a partner in crime...

This New Adult (ages 18-35) urban fantasy thriller series is a story of a fight for independence and control, love and loss, and a search for one's place in the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Margaret Alexander
• Release date: Feb 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301677580

Margaret Alexander

Margaret has always gone after creative, thought-provoking books with deep characters. When she didn't find too many with that exact blend, she decided to try and write some of her own. She explored her creative side with a major in engineering and a minor in studio art, and traveled half-way across the globe, from Bulgaria to the tropics, and finally the California desert. Maybe that's why her characters never sit still. She loves to read, illustrate, watch historical movies, ice skate, and dream, and has a high regard for culture, martial arts, and the French and Japanese languages. At the end of the day, there's nothing she enjoys more than a good story.

Book preview

A P O C A L Y P S E • E X A L T E D

Shadows of Penumbra

First Evolution

SMASHWORDS 2013 EDITION

Copyright 2009 by Margaret E. Alexander.

www.apocalypseexalted.com

All rights reserved.

Cover illustration Copyright Ron Guyatt.

Book design by Margaret E. Alexander

and Ron Guyatt

This is a work of fiction.

ISBN: 978-0-9883357-0-7 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-0-9883357-1-4 (eBook)

License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other individuals. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For my mother, the brightest star in the Penumbra sky

Introduction

Seven sins. Seven souls. Seven weapons.

GREED WANTS THE WORLD ALL TO HIMSELF.

Liberty is power.

VANITY SHIELDS ONLY THE WORTHY.

The past will judge.

LUST CRAVES DOMINION.

Obsession overrules.

DECEPTION FOOLS ITS CLOSEST FRIENDS.

Truth can be poison.

INDIFFERENCE TURNS ITS HEAD AWAY.

Until there's nowhere to turn.

WRATH DESTROYS ALL SINNERS.

Forgiveness transforms.

ENVY NEVER SACRIFICES.

A life for a life.

You only need to control one.

SHE HAS TO MASTER ALL SEVEN.

PROLOGUE

A man crouched before a void that laughed at his misery. His fists were clenched and he muttered something under his breath. An aura of nothingness condensed the empty space, choking the very little of it that there was, as if to squeeze it into a space ten sizes too small. The energy it gave off was alien to anyone who could have felt it, for none had done so before. And there he appeared, a being composed of dark matter over which fluttered a pristine white hood. He spoke in no audible tongue, yet his intentions were clear. He demanded obedience and surrender.

You have failed, Alasdair. After so many lives, you’d think you could protect just one human. He might be in Hell right now, but I’ll bring him back. Too bad you won’t be around to see it.

Liar! the man on the ground spat.

The void stopped its laughter. My brother was a failure, like you. To lie is to cheat. It’s so much more interesting to see how much damage you can do with the truth.

The weakened man struggled once more. His visage was ageless, but he grew weary. As he attempted to bring his fingers into a triangular shape, a white arrow pierced his hands and he began to bleed, although he didn’t even flinch from the painful wound.

He scoffed instead. You’re just a coward. A bored, useless—

Oh, please. Insults only work on humans. You’re no better than me. You tossed away the sword when you couldn’t handle its power. He’ll use it to a much better end. Now it’s time for our loyal partnership to begin.

A single drop of blue fell on the man’s head. Whatever strength remained in him failed and his struggling ceased. He grew stiff and empty; his head lifted only by force. His scarlet eyes became shallow and dark and his hair hung toward the ground as if heavy with water. The skin on his face turned a pale gray and a silver vapor escaped from his mouth, into the ground. His body turned rigid and collapsed, clutching itself as if to keep from breaking.

Heh. Pathetic. And here I thought you’d put up more of a fight. Now even you…serve me!

NO!

A child no older than nine woke up panting from her nightmare, her covers tightly clutched in her small hands. She wrapped her arms around herself and tears began to slip quietly from her deep green eyes. She’d had the dream before, but it was never like this. The man with the red eyes had never failed before, always able to stop the darkness. This was the first time he failed, and in so doing, there was a good chance she would never see him again.

What was that?… Why now?… She sobbed as golden curls fell and covered her face like a curtain. Whoever he was…I believed in him…

Lightning flashed outside the girl’s bedroom and briefly illuminated the room, which glittered with a deep blue, a color that made her drown in desolation.

Diane…

The girl’s wet face lifted to look up at the woman leaning against the wall by the window. This woman, too, was ageless, and looked very similar to Diane. Were her eyes not a hazel brown, she could easily pass for the girl’s older self. Flawless, the woman’s curly hair glowed in the darkness, wound about a crescent-shaped ornament as stray locks fell on her back.

Celestine! You’re here again! Does that…does that mean…?

I came because I knew you needed me—right? The woman cast her eyes upon the girl. Her voice comforted Diane. It rang out melodiously, as if she spoke in a resonant chamber.

Diane nodded and clutched a golden necklace made of three large pearls that hung at her neck.

I remember you said in my dreams…I could see things…why?

"Hmm…I remember saying they were not dreams."

Diane’s eyes narrowed. I wish Mom was here.

The woman softened. She walked up to the girl and placed a hand on her head. You have me, though.

Thank you, Diane said faintly. Celestine, if you knew what really happened to her, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you? You’d tell me why—?

Stop it. You know it is not in my right to say.

Diane pulled away from her and snapped, You’re a liar!

I never lie, Diane.

Sadness built up in the young girl’s voice. I wish you would. Then…Then it wouldn’t hurt so much!

The woman cast down her eyes. You’re on about that again. Don’t say such things.

I’ll say whatever I want! Diane dried her eyes and turned to look back at the woman.

She was gone.

Celestine…can I ask you something?

Of course, the woman’s voice responded in her mind.

Will you sing me a song? I’ve never heard you sing before.

At first the woman was silent. Then she sighed in submission and responded, "I only know of one. It is not meant for your ears, but I will try to translate it as best I can. A song of destiny. I believe…it goes like this:

With the dawn of the spirit

The sepulcher breaks

And the crescent moon waning awakes

Since that morn to each evening

I would lie awake

To recite and remember your name

Just to always recall your true name

Though I am now lost forever

I will search and love you the same

And I won’t let go, never

No matter how far you have strayed

Giving hope to the darkness

And strength to the light

There is balance between black and white

Our souls are like one

And I love you the same

So I’ll always remember your name

Though it’s been far too long since you came—"

It’s…beautiful, but also…so sad…, Diane whispered as she yawned.

"—But the heart doesn’t answer

What it wants to say

It just keeps on fading away

Soon you’ll know what I’ve held to

You’ll find it too late

But I’ve never forgotten your name

Even though you’ve abandoned that name

At last I will rejoice forever

You’re here with me, we cannot refrain

And finally we’re bound together

How bittersweet this journey has been

Despite the loss, you’re with me until

We are both prepared for the kill."

Once the fading song finished, the young girl was sound asleep, one of the pearls from her necklace in hand.

The woman stood by the young girl’s bed and frowned. She intertwined her fingers, and closed her eyes in prayer.

The Seraphim of Destiny wrote those lyrics. It is said the song was written in celebration of our birth…and also, as the prophecy of our end.

A male voice mumbled from outside the door. It burst open and a man looked inside frantically. He wore a gray business suit and had short sandy hair. The most uncommon thing about him was a classifiable scar shaped like a semicircle that protruded past the side of his hairline. What the hell was that noise? I could have sworn I heard music coming from here, but it looks like the brat’s already sleep.

Celestine’s eyes widened. He…heard? she thought. That’s not possible! What is that man?

The man did not leave immediately, and instead hovered above Diane’s sleeping form while Celestine observed him warily. It’s only a matter of time. Hmph…

Diane’s back was turned to him, her eyes shot wide open. She grasped the knife she kept under her pillow at all times ever since her mother went away. Not once had he touched her, even in a fatherly way, but Celestine told her to have it there just in case. In case of what? What plans could he possibly have for her when he barely acknowledged her existence?

His head suddenly turned in Celestine’s direction and she stared him in the eye. What a corrupt man, she thought. May his Shadow spend the rest of eternity in Solitude.

Huh? Strange. He snatched the air briskly. His fingers coiled around Celestine’s neck, but only caught a handful of air. He scoffed and walked out.

A heavy air of uneasiness lifted when the door shut behind him, and Diane let go of a long-held breath.

I hate him, said Diane in a strained voice, her back still to Celestine. He killed her. I know he did.

The woman did not reply, and simply turned to look out the window at the night. The stars were so far away from this world. And even so, the mere glimpse of their beauty was undeserved.

Please don’t leave me alone with him.

She looked at the girl, who rolled onto her back and stared at her.

Sleep already, said the woman and the girl attempted to obey.

She turned back to look at the sky. Her thoughts drifted to Diane’s vision and she said under her breath, I promise not to leave you, Diane, for now. And, in return, promise me you at least won’t concern yourself over the likes of a Shadow again.

With the arrival of the following day, Lucas informed Diane he would leave town for a week. A familiar routine, during which she would once again be left to care for herself. He never left a key for her, or taught her how to decode the alarm, so she was not allowed out of the house. Not now or ever did he show a care or concern for her in his custody, no more than for a leftover pet he would rather tie down to a rock and throw in a lake.

As strong as Diane felt with Celestine by her side, she feared loneliness, though she wouldn’t admit it. To her, night seemed to fall slower than the passing of the day; the last glimpse of sun strained to linger, as if afraid of where it was being taken.

You sure look worried. Any reason for it?

Diane lifted her eyes to look at Celestine, who sat next to her on the stairs.

The girl sighed and smiled softly; the very image of Celestine, let alone her presence, was so welcoming and serene that it calmed her.

I’m not worried. I simply get tired knowing I wait alone for no one. My mother is never coming back and I haven’t even met my father. I’m a prisoner, Celestine, can’t you take me away from here? Anyplace is better than this.

Sorry, not yet. There are prices to be paid, I fear, and I am not one to grant you wishes. I’m only here to guide and protect, you should know that.

Diane nodded. Maybe she should play video games or watch TV, but such entertainment did not excite her senses. She would not return to the bleak building they called school until summer’s end. How could anyone possibly enjoy doing nothing for such a long time?

A sudden jolt ran through her stomach as someone moved up the stairs. Lucas was long gone.

Diane gasped and whispered, Someone’s there, Celes— She turned her head, but the familiar entity had vanished.

There came an echo of footsteps from the dark end of the winding stairwell. A rapid heart rate replaced the calmness that had been instilled by the being. Diane swallowed slowly; silence leered from beyond the balusters. Below, the form of a man ascended with a weapon that had to be a gun. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The man could either be a burglar or a murderer, but she wouldn’t stand around to try to figure out which. She ran to Lucas’s office on the same floor, broke open the lock, as she had learned to do long before, closed the door behind her, and ran to his desk. Sure enough, in the third drawer lay the pistol she discovered in her boredom.

I may not know how to use this, thought Diane, but I’d first go to Hell before I die willingly.

The silver gun fit clumsily in her small hand, and she panted while attempting to figure out how to hold it right at the least, and at last stuck her finger in the loop assumed to be the trigger.

Diane’s heart jumped in place when the doorknob clicked and the stranger walked in.

Kid? Heh, no sense in hiding. I know you’re here.

The voice was maddening, but with a freezing calm, as if he had done this so many times before, without getting caught, he lost count.

Diane gathered her strength and sprung up to point the gun at the man, though slightly shaking, to meet his dark brown eyes and sullen face. He was dressed in a black coat and grinned like a lunatic. A large white map of the world spanned the wall of the office between them. Without hesitation, he extended the gun in her direction and they stood pistol to pistol.

Will this man really shoot me? What good would that do?

She got her answer as he frowned and said in a hoarse whisper, Sorry, kid.

Without a second’s hesitation, he fired three shots directly at her. She closed her eyes and expected to fall over in pain.

When her eyes opened, the man looked amused and Celestine stood in front of her, three gaping holes through her chest.

Do not call my name.

Tears flowed in the young girl’s eyes.

Do not show fear.

A silvery mist escaped through the holes, reforming the damage on Celestine’s body like a seal. Diane blinked several times and staggered.

Do not concern yourself over me.

Amazing, the man hissed. Hahaha. I don’t know what you just did, but you must be one special kid, you know that?

This man, whoever he was, was entirely insane. As soon as those words reached her ears, adrenaline drove every muscle in her body. She fired at his shoulder. Similarly, it deflected.

Heh, don’t even bother. I have a force field. Can’t penetrate that, kid. But don’t worry. I didn’t mean to startle you.

"An anarchist and force field are like one,

Prepare a magnet and you’re done.

Their left wrist carries what they need,

Disable that and you are freed."

As the rhyme resounded through Diane’s mind, her eyes widened and she retreated slowly, gun still firmly in hand.

Hey, don’t be scared now. Look, I know I musta freaked ya out, but I swear I’m not here to hurt ya. Court’s orders, you know? Listen, I’m gonna—

Despite his words, as he took several steps toward the retreating girl, she shot at his wrist to prevent him from enabling his force field again.

How the hell—?

"So long as you avoid head, gut, and heart,

A flesh wound guarantees a running start."

She shot him in the leg and the man looked down at the hole in his pants, but he didn’t scream or fall over despite the bleeding. Her body shook with uncertainty. What was happening? One thing was for sure: her father’s silly rhymes, from the few letters he had sent her, had proven useful.

Damn, that wasn’t very nice. The man looked up again.

That’s right, said Diane, the voice emerging from her mouth so contradictory to her young body it was as though she channeled a future version of herself. My father is an FBI agent. He taught me how to take care of myself. Magnets beneath the floorboards. They break all kinds of force fields. Guess you didn’t account for that. Don’t think for a second—

The man began to laugh. FBI, huh? Well, there’s an interesting thought; I wouldn’t have guessed they knew about our methods.

"Persist on what you want to know.

You won’t survive unless you grow."

Shut up, she hissed, the gun kept firmly aimed at him. And who exactly is…‘us’?

His laughter ceased. Listen, you aren’t actually serious, are you, kid? I can explain—

Do you work for Lucas? Diane questioned in a stern but shaken tone. Did he kill my mother?! she screamed.

The man stared at her blankly, as if he had forgotten about the leaking hole in his leg. Well, I don’t kn—

Diane gritted her teeth in anger. Answer ‘Yes’ or ‘No’! The gun jerked with each word.

He observed it warily and her curiously.

No.

What? Then who?

Your mother was in the way. She thought we were acting too soon and didn’t want to cooperate, so Lucas figured out a way to take care of all that. Don’t worry, kid, you’ll see your mother real soon. Just…put down the gun…and I’ll call him right…now. I’m sure we can sort this whole thing out…

Diane’s jaw dropped slightly, but she didn’t say a word. Then her head turned away from him.

What will happen if he dies now, Celestine?

Celestine? The man turned in the same direction and gaped. What the—? B-but you’re th-there and…you can’t be in two places at once! What…What the hell are you?! Where’d you c-come from! You weren’t there before!

The life or death of this man will not affect the destiny of any other soul on this Earth but his own, Celestine spoke, and stared as though through his very essence.

The man began to breathe heavily and muttered to himself, I wasn’t told of any of this! I must be losing my mind…I’m-I’m seeing things! I’m hearing things!

Diane’s eyes turned back to him and the expression on her face changed to that of blatant indifference. The tension in her body loosened and she stood tall.

He finally yelled, WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON?!

The girl looked at him condescendingly as if to say, You should beg for your life right about now.

His eyes widened even more at the notion, threatening to rip at the corners, and his tone changed. Wait, wait! Your mother! She’s alive, I swear. She’s still alive! And I didn’t try to kill you either! She’s—

"One way to tell apart the truth and lie

Comes from a direct look in the eye."

Diane’s eyes widened in anger and she tightened her grip on the gun as she looked into the eyes of the discontented man before her.

"Life is the one game you make sure to win,

Even when winning is a sin."

She refused to die, refused to be killed in this place before she got to live in the outside world. Before she had a chance to learn the truth.

Her finger pulled back slowly on the trigger.

Liar.

CHAPTER 1 | The Final Era

I.

| 10 years later |

This world…it’s almost difficult to believe…how calm it can appear from up here. This must be the way the angels see it, and why it’s so easy for them to accept us…how naive. From far away, anything can appear perfect. But up close, if you dig deep enough…that’s where the real filth lies. Like an infection, gnawing from within. It exists in every creature, especially humans. No, it’s more like a disease. That which kills, some sooner than others. No matter how you look at it, sometimes it’s better to ignore it and pretend it isn’t there. To go about your life as if the darkness in your heart doesn’t exist. As if the infection is a delusion. That way, you can cope a while longer. I wonder…if we choose that path, do the angels care?

A young woman sat on the railing of a balcony. Her legs dangled over the edge, towards hundreds of stories beneath her. The sleeves of her black jacket were rolled up to her elbows. A small metallic contraption clamped onto her left wrist gave off a bright glare from the sun. Her hair, a pale blonde, curled down to her shoulders. Three thin strands traced down both sides of her face, sharply contrasting her deep green eyes.

A song hummed in her throat, but otherwise, she sat quietly, immovably, as if waiting for something, perched like a hawk above the skyscrapers. Their numbers no longer allowed for a glimpse of the horizon between them.

Diane’s eyes darted as they caught sight of an object moving above the metropolis at a speed that rivaled a bullet’s. It was black and silver, with a crimson emblem on its side she did not need to see clearly to identify, and now disappeared and reappeared as though phasing through invisible clouds. Diane frowned. Now she would have to tell her father they were here, lest he suspect anything.

She got up and walked into the apartment, her eyes quickly adjusting to the difference in lighting. It was entirely dark in contrast to the brightness outside. Only the infrared lights enabled her sight inside through night-vision lenses. It was necessary this way, for the sake of anyone who might spy on her, but mainly for her father.

Through a corridor and down several steps, it was even darker, nearly black. A shady figure sat in the darkness, clearly deep in thought, and worked on something.

A jet 3-K8? Why didn’t you tell me they were monitoring this city? She attempted to sound as clueless as possible. Of course, she couldn’t tell him they were there for her.

The middle-aged man breathed out heavily and halted the work he was hunched over. The Anarchists have their ways. It’s best we stay out of them.

Diane scoffed slightly. That is exactly what’s gonna get us killed.

Sometimes her father seemed to know nothing at all about the Anarchists, people who had once committed serious crimes, but had had their memories erased for a chance at new lives. Oft times, he knew too much.

Anarchists used to live among other humans and were allowed within the rest of society, fully aware of their pasts. Very soon that ideal turned into a nightmare. People began to resent the Anarchists. Why should they be given a chance while other people endured punishment, they said. It’s not fair, they said. If anyone deserved such forgiveness, it was least of all them.

In fact, Anarchists had not been ordinary criminals, but masterminds.

Patience, ‘Ane, he told her absentmindedly.

Yeah, I know, she replied, quick to change the subject. Dad, you promised to tell me what you were working on today. That new project of yours, it’s about time, isn’t it?

‘Ane, you’re finished early, aren’t you? Your lessons are programmed for several more hours. He now gave her only a fraction of his attention.

On the stairway, her hands kept off the railing. Those law courses were such a waste of time. She already had all the material committed to memory since before her pretend classes began. Now she spent a few hours writing essays on criminal cases to quell her father and spent the rest of her time on his investigations. Unless she had an assignment, one he didn’t need to know about. I boosted the database to amplify the information application rate—

Despite the number of times I’ve told you not to? You know that’s dangerous.

It’s never been proven to be. I can keep up.

But you don’t have to. I hate to say this, ‘Ane, but I’ll keep you out of this one for your own sake.

But you—

Please, ‘Ane, her father asserted. Not this time.

—promised.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I’ve put far too much effort into this project.

Once he left, Diane settled herself behind the mainframe computer and gained access effortlessly. A million thoughts began to run through her head as she gazed at the screen:

Verifying and…

Wait a second, this file, it wasn’t here before. And yet…I checked this information yesterday… When did he?…

Locked? You never lock your files. Unless…no. He wouldn’t know I’ve seen this. But then why would he?… Extra security measures? He already has a five ring code encryption on this account. The other projects are all unlocked and this was hidden…he must have left it visible because he didn’t expect me to look through it today. That means…he’s working on something else. Then…could that mafia’s third order be a decoy to his actual assignment? Although, he’s always informed me of his work. Then what…is it? LM.701-CF…that could stand for anything. CF, that’s definitely Case File, but what of the rest of it?

No matter. I have my own sources. Don’t count me out just yet, Dad.

Indeed, of all the formidable sources of intelligence in the world, none was more formidable in the Final Era than that of the Anarchists, the Double A. It distinguished criminals into three sorts: the Manipulators, the Rebels, and the Sinners. The Rebels were the primeval stage of Anarchists; the Manipulators, people who used the law to their personal advantage, the ultimate opposite and rivals of Anarchists; and the Sinners, minor criminals unworthy of the Double A’s attention.

The entire mess began with a single man. A scientist and genius. His name was Leopold Aggrandiziér, or, more commonly to those who respected him, Diziér the Great. He had received several Nobel prizes for his renowned research and was acknowledged by every country in the world. He was an icon. Soon, something went wrong. Nobody found out what caused him to do it, but he committed a severe crime and was given the death penalty. The day he was killed, he was allowed one last speech to the world. He made the announcement that, had he made certain choices differently in his life, he would not face the scaffold, and would have helped more people. Then, everything would be different.

If only I could forget everything that happened in the past several years, I know my decisions would not have led me here. But something must not be right with the world if a turn of events can influence the path a man will take. Man’s will should be stronger than that, but it isn’t. Rather, it is incredibly weak. Yet if I could have a last dying wish, it would be this: to find the solution. The answer…to the sequence of life. The fourth dimension of time, that which allows the world to keep spinning, must be erased. Only thus can the world be saved.

Those were his last words. Surely they would replay again today. Every now and then, the Anarchists would hack the television networks just to broadcast them. They left the world baffled. Some scratched their heads, while others talked of lunacy. Another faction held a different view. Much of the media attempted to curtain the speech, but what was done was done, and the message was sent. An organization of his followers began to form. A man of great wealth guaranteed them all the funding they would need to organize the world’s greatest team of researchers, agents, scientists, and theologians. To take all necessary measures to answer his request. They believed his statement to be the beginning of a revolution they had long waited for, and took the initiative to form the the Association of Anarchists, the greatest secret organization outside of government affiliation in the world, also known as the Double A.

Diane lifted her wrist closer to her face. A turn of the knob to a forty-five degree angle on what looked like a metallic wristwatch initialized a transmission.

Rina, I need you to decode something for me.

I thought you’d never ask, a bewitching voice emerged from the small earpiece invisible behind Diane’s loose hair. Rina was a skilled code breaker, equipped with an archive of every cipher known to mankind. She was also Diane’s coworker. But I only do this for you because you’re my favorite.

Diane laughed. I know. Hurry up, I don’t have much time until the old man comes back.

After several seconds passed, Rina said, Sorry, it’s no good, Archenson.

What? she said in a sharp whisper. Rina was able to break any kind of encryption.

Whoever made this one, he outdid himself. I can get background memory on the file, but breaking it is another story. Are you sure it isn’t a fake?

Damn it. Yeah.

Diane still wouldn’t give up. The existence of that file had implanted itself into her mind and she refused to let it rest. Not until the very last bit of information it contained got extracted. There was someone else who could hack into it, but she’d only ask for his help as a last resort.

Don’t bother yourself too much over it. I’ll run it by some other Links; they might know something I don’t. Which reminds me, you have your next mission. You ready?

Diane scratched her forehead with her thumb and replied, Yeah, I’ve already received all the necessary instructions and equipment. Just send me the time and date.

No problem. Take care of yourself.

Got it. You too.

End transmission.

Diane checked the date on her communicator. It read 10/12/2020. Her mission was tomorrow. She sighed through taut lips, turned off the computer, and went to prepare.

Even she must have committed a wrong in the past. Something that caused them to gain an interest in her. For, although she did not like to think of herself as such, she too was an Anarchist, and there was a part of her life she remembered absolutely nothing about.

II.

Lightning was the only thing to illuminate the dark gray buildings as rain poured down and people scurried into their cars. Streets emptied.

Diane stared up and sighed at the descending rain. Perfect timing, she muttered. Her clothes bore a glossy coating that repelled the water. She pulled the hood of her black jacket over her head.

The rain was so heavy and blinding, she may as well have not been standing there. No one noticed a young woman suddenly walk into the wall of a building, as if she were a phantom.

An argument between two men, one of which had a heavy French accent, echoed throughout the halls inside the building.

That’s ridiculous. I can’t do the job if it’s not feasible, the first man spat.

Are you insinuating that I’m lying? snarled the Frenchman. He already told you: do whatever it takes to find his body.

I’m insinuating that you’re a moron! A man with no personal background? Without even a name or a face? No physical trail? What the hell does that even mean?

"Damn it! You drive me up the wall! I gave you the criteria. Go talk to my boss if you have a problem with it, bastard!"

The French pronunciation made it sound like butter. Diane held in a laugh.

Silence intervened and Diane quickly regained her composure. The argumentative man seemed to have lost his bark, and not from the insult.

No, I think…I think I’ll go. Tell your boss— the man gulped, —tell your boss I’m on it.

"Heh. Thought so. Take care now! And don’t take your precious time, detective," the Frenchman quipped.

He placed on a hat to shadow his face and growled, Shut the hell up, as he made his way out.

Diane waited for the other man to leave the area before walking into the hall. This was the very core of their organization. High-end gangs, slave traders, drug dealers, pirates, assassins, and terrorists incorporated. While their families assumed they went to work at a fine white-collar company, they came to this place instead. And so did their leader.

She smirked to herself and proceeded down the hallway. What a joke. A job like that…Room 21 could do it in thirty minutes flat.

Her eyes traveled to observe the place. The walls were made of thick titanium; regular modern technology could hardly break this kind of security.

Who are they trying to fool? she thought. Hiding like this—like cowards—it’s unforgivable! Damn them. Still…why they want this one is beyond me.

She pulled out a pair of green glasses from her pocket and slipped them over her eyes. Immediately, a bright violet target appeared before them.

And there you are. A target of the Double A…none can escape that fate.

The activation of one of the switches on her wrist-communicator would get her to where she needed to be. Modification was a task practically anyone with any practice of the discipline could accomplish, and Diane had gotten rather bored of it. In approach of her destination, she disabled her force field ahead of time, a habit recently acquired. The thrill of even the slightest danger made the job a little more satisfying. After all, virtually every country and individual on the planet revered the Double A as a source of unmatched technology and manpower. This didn’t leave her with too many intelligent people who put up a fight.

As a Modifier, her job for the Double A was not much more than to recruit Anarchists, something that required little communication or convincing. In fact, it wasn’t even a matter of will. A target of the Double