Age of Angels -Book 2- The Billion $ Game

By Kevin Flanagan

Imagine a computer game so addictive, so accessible and so real that the whole world is playing it. Now imagine that game is the work of the Devil himself.

In the 2nd book in the series, Sean has survived the plots to kill him in the Paradise HQ in Los Angeles and he enters the Finals watched by a global audience, who are taking bets to see who will ultimately triumph in the virtual games.

The 14 finalists first find themselves in Renaissance Rome where they hone their skills under the watchful eye of one of the most notorious figures in history, Nicolo Machiavelli. Machiavelli has been "electronically regenerated" to appear in the games and is intent on filling the minds of the young finalists with thoughts of murder and mayhem.

Against all odds Sean comes successfully through "training" to win his angel wings before going on a cosmic search to find the sword that will enable him to fight the final battle over the Abyss. It is here that Sean will confront the ultimate evil. An evil so terrible it threatens to unhinge his mind, end his participation in the games; and with it the chance to find true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BeCreative Books
• Release date: Nov 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301814008

Kevin Flanagan

Kevin Flanagan has had six books published, two of which were best-sellers. His love of writing led him to he set up his content creation agency in 2004: BeCreativeMediaGroup. BeCreative manages writers, photographers and designers in creating magazines and features for some of the worlds top publications including: The Wall Street Journal, The Sunday Times, The Washington Post, The Sunday Independent and USA Today. This business continues to move into many new areas and is also experienced in the digital world managing social network campaigns for some of the worlds biggest brands. Kevin has been an Angel enthusiast for most of his life and during this time he has written many successful books but only now has he focused on the amazing subject of Angels. His first Angel book was entitled "Listening to your Angel" and it discussed how using Focusing to channel your energy can help you be a happier person in life. The "Age Of Angels" series of books is being published and will be his first Novel in this genre. The "Angel of New York" is also available and is also a screenplay. Kevin is an avid user of Twitter and would love to hear from people interested in his work. Contact him at www.Twitter.com/AgeOfAngels

Book preview

Age of Angels – Book 2 – The Billion $ Game

By

Kevin Flanagan

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Published by BeCreative Media Group

At Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Kevin Flanagan

www.ageofangels.net

Follow Kevin on Twitter @ageofangels

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission of the publishing company.

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Table of Contents

Author’s note

Start of book

Author’s Note:

The idea for this story came about through a discussion with my writing pal Alan Bruton while walking through Trinity College one night. The premise for the book was simple. Imagine a computer game so addictive, so accessible and so real that the whole world is playing it. Now imagine that game is the work of the Devil himself.

Two years, (and several near nervous breakdowns later), I had finally finished the first and second book in a series of eight. It was by far the most daunting task I had ever taken on. People ask: is it a work of science fiction. I think the better question is: could it be a work of actual fact.

Kevin Flanagan, Dublin, October, 2012

CHAPTER ONE

Let the Games Begin

The blackness was all-engulfing. The giant Paradise computers were engaging the players’ brains, scanning their deepest recesses, searching the billions of synapses.

Then everything changed. The inner jolts became tiny specks of bright light that lit up the centre of Sean’s brain. Then the specks began exploding out of his head and trailing behind him; soon they had formed a giant cone that came out of the back of his head, forming a solid cable of light going somewhere he could not see. He remained rigid in his chair, feeling beads of sweat crawl down his brow. He knew he could no longer control his fear and was about to shout when he found himself suspended in an empty, dark circle. He felt weightless. Looking across the black circle, he saw that there were tiny outlines of the other gamers, the silhouettes of their bodies crackling with blue energy fields. Something moved behind him, catching his eye, and in his mind he swivelled and looked back just in time to see an intense cone of light come thundering back at him. In a nanosecond it had passed him and his companions and he was swept along in its wake, tumbling over as if caught in a giant wave crashing on shore. The tumbling gradually stopped and he found himself standing upright and now in the very heart of the light as it blasted forward.

Then familiar shapes began to emerge, fragments of a building, sections of ground, a portion of the sky above. And in the middle of this world he found himself coming together, parts of his forearms forming first, then muscled legs, an ear, the front of his stomach, two feet, another ear, a shock of hair. Finally he felt a shove in the rear as he realised that the rest of his back had attached itself to his body, wrapping itself around his heaving torso. The final fragments of the buildings landed around him with an ear-splitting crash. Then in a flash it was over. Silence reigned so utterly and completely that it hurt his ears. He heard his breath come in great gulps as the new reality came into sharp focus in front of his eyes.

‘Holy shit!’ murmured Karl Sinke, who was standing five feet to Sean’s right. ‘That was some ride!’ All the gamers seemed to be gathered in a circle

‘What the hell is that?’ asked Brad Sinke, who was standing on Sean’s left, between Sam and Javed Singh; their faces were upturned, their mouths hanging wide open. Sean would have mocked them if he had not been standing open-mouthed himself at the overwhelming reality of their new world.

‘Is this snow?’ Sean asked, reaching out a hand to grasp the white flakes that were descending all around him.

‘It certainly is,’ said Ivan Levanov, examining a snowflake that was on the end of his finger. It melted away even as he spoke, leaving a small transparent film of water. ‘Amazing,’ marvelled the Russian.

‘I’ve never seen snow before,’ said Absalom, jumping up and clapping his hands in the air. ‘Is it real?’

‘Nothing’s real,’ said Sam, turning to her companions, a frown on her face. ‘This is just a game.’ But no one was listening.

‘It’s bloody freezing,’ said Jessica Blair-Smyth, grasping her sister’s arm. ‘Where the bloody hell are we anyway?’

‘Do you always complain?’ asked Karl Sinke.

‘Yeah, enjoy life for once – this place is real cool!’ said Brad.

‘Enjoy what? I’m freezing to death!’ said Laura, ready for a fight, her eyes narrowed.

Karl merely shook his head and sauntered off. ‘Losers,’ he muttered.

The gamers were standing in a hollow and the ground under their feet was white with a thin covering of snow. It was night and the sky above was dark. The stars had disappeared, replaced by low-hanging clouds. Sean took a deep breath.

‘How can they make it so real?’ asked Latika Singh, holding up her hand and catching a snowflake.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Javed. The gamers stood uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot as they tried to keep warm, undecided as to what to do next.

‘What is this place?’ asked Sam, moving forward out of the circle and towards the grey structure of a wall towering above them. On all four sides, they were surrounded by the walls of a giant building.

‘It appears to be some sort ruin,’ said Fa Zen, pointing upwards. ‘Look – the walls are broken.’

Above them the roof had fallen in, allowing the snow free access. Several of the gamers slipped as they attempted to climb the ancient-looking walls that blocked their way. Suddenly, Jessica let out a cry, causing the gamers to jump. Just beside her a torch had spluttered into life, casting long shadows that lit up the cracked grey walls.

‘Whoa!’ said Sean, looking up in wonder at the remains of broken columns that surrounded the roofless room. Another torch then another burst into flames, forcing the gamers to shield their eyes from the blinding brightness. Soon they stood surrounded by a circle of light while the air was filled with a hissing noise.

‘What is that?’ said Olga Pavlova, approaching the torch next to Sean and looking in wonder as the snow melted when it touched the flames. Sean caught the profile of the Russian ballerina and marvelled at it. He felt a jolt as she turned and looked at him with her startling emerald-green eyes. ‘The snow is melting,’ she said.

Ivan reached a hand into the flames then cried out and snatched his fingers back, cradling his hand against his chest. ‘Shit – it burns!’

‘That’s unreal,’ said Sam, going over and placing her hand near the flames. ‘What computer could do that?’

‘A big one,’ laughed Ivan. ‘Look at my skin.’

Sam took Ivan’s hand in hers and examined the burn. Sean felt a sudden irritation as he noticed Ivan’s brown eyes gazing fondly at Sam. ‘Whoa, it’s blistering.’ Sam said, pursing her lips and blowing on Ivan’s fingers. Ivan smiled.

‘You make it better.’

‘Really?’ said Sam. She looked up and, noticing that all eyes were on her, immediately let go of Ivan’s hand – though not before her face coloured. There was another blast of wind that brought a fresh flurry of snow swirling into the hollow and Sean felt a shiver run up his spine. ‘Hey,’ he whispered, almost to himself, ‘that’s weird!’

‘What’s weird?’ asked Sam, thankful for the distraction.

‘My back!’ Sean cried, his voice trembling with excitement. ‘I can feel it.’

‘That’s great, Sean.’

‘Yeah – it is.’ Sean went to take a step forward but his whole body stiffened. He tried again to move his legs but nothing happened. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Sam.

‘I can’t move my legs.’

‘Here – take my arm. Now try,’ Sam encouraged. But Sean only stumbled and would have fallen if Ivan had not caught him by the other arm.

‘Steady,’ said the Russian, hauling Sean to his feet. Sean stood suspended between the two like limp washing hanging on a line.

‘Hey, the Irish boy is drunk!’ cried Jessica Blair-Smyth from the other side of the hollow.

‘That’s not nice, Jess,’ said Brad Sinke.

‘Wasn’t meant to be.’

‘Why do you act like that?’ asked Sam.

‘Like what?’

‘Like an asshole.’

The smile disappeared from Jessica’s face as if she had been slapped hard. She took a step towards Sam. ‘Why don’t you just shut it!’

‘Ladies,’ cried Javed Singh as he stepped between them, ‘enough!’

Sam and Jessica glared at each other until the English girl smiled sourly and, taking her sister by the arm, turned her back and walked away.

‘Hey, I’m still here,’ protested Sean, who had been left standing unsteadily on his own.

‘Sorry,’ said Sam, taking him by the arm.

‘Why do you let her get under your skin?’ asked Ivan, taking Sean’s other arm again. Sam shot the Russian a glance.

‘She’s just too much sometimes,’ she said.

‘Ignore her,’ said Ivan, giving Sam a wink. Sam shook her head but she smiled despite herself. ‘That’s better,’ said Ivan. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful when you smile?’

‘I’m still here!’ Sean snapped again.

‘Sorry,’ said Sam, blushing. ‘Let’s get you walking. Just do as I do – right foot first . . .’ But Sean could barely drag his feet behind him and after three attempts they stopped.

‘What the hell is wrong?’ he asked, his face pale.

‘Sean, you’ve never walked before, right?’ said Ivan.

‘Not since I was four.’

‘Okay – and the Alpha computers take everything from your brain, right?’

‘Right.’

‘So if your brain has no memory of walking – you can’t walk,’ Ivan concluded.

‘That’s right!’ said Sam. ‘It’s not that you can’t walk, Sean – you don’t know how.’

‘So now what?’

‘We’ll have to teach you,’ said Sam.

‘And if that doesn’t work?’

‘Leave you here to die!’ joked Ivan.

‘Some would like that,’ Sean said, glancing over at the English twins. His whole body was now shaking with the cold as the snow continued to fall. The snow was heavier now, covering the ground and filling the air, dousing the torches that surrounded the ruin. Suddenly a strange, gruff voice echoed around them.

‘Non c’è bisogno di morire dal freddo!’ the voice barked in Italian. ‘No need to die from the cold.’

There was a sharp intake of breath as the gamers turned and looked for the voice, but there was nothing save the shadows cast by the torch-flames moving with the wind. Then came another sound, a sharp, grinding noise that put everyone on edge.

‘What is it?’ whispered Olga, her eyes searching the circular hole in the roof, her hand suddenly resting on Sean’s arm.

‘I don’t know,’ said Sean, fearful of the sound but more fearful of Olga taking her hand away. A deeper shadow appeared on the ledge above, blotting out the stars and causing Latika to let out a cry. Javed pulled her into his side and looked up.

‘What‘s going on?’ Javed exclaimed.

The light from the torches flared – revealing a man standing some 30 feet above them on the edge of the hole in the roof, looking down. In his hand was a knife that he was sharpening on a whetstone, the blade making a screeching noise as he ran it this way and that. He wore a rough, stained brown leather jacket over a chainmail vest. He was standing on the very edge of the hole, but he looked remarkably relaxed as he gazed down on them, the only movement being the blade which caught the torchlight as it ran forward and back, forward and back.

‘Ecco!’ his voice rasped. ‘You must come with us.’

‘Who’s us?’ asked Sam, and then the gamers saw them, emerging from the shadows all around, more men dressed for battle. Some bore long pikes, some long muskets balanced nonchalantly on their shoulders, some pointed steel helmets. All had the bored look of soldiers filling in time. They sauntered in from the shadows, nodding with their heads to the rear of the ruin, motioning for the gamers to start moving.

‘Who are you?’ asked Javed, placing both hands on his hips and planting his feet firmly on the ground. There was a sudden noise of something falling through the air and the man who had been standing on the roof landed right in front of Javed, causing the Indian to jump. The soldier slowly rose from his haunches and looked Javed in the eye. ‘Problemi?’ he asked.

The man had a cruel face. A thin scar ran from the base of his nose across both his lips, ending on the bottom of his chin. It looked as though he had been slashed with a sword. The man stepped forward and brought his knife up in his right hand, placing the sharp tip on Javed’s Adam’s apple as the other gamers watched, terrified. ‘Problemi?’ he asked again.

Javed swallowed hard. ‘No problemi,’ he said as his Adam’s apple moved up against the razor-sharp point, drawing a small prick of blood.

‘Uncle!’ cried Latika, but the soldier slapped a rough hand over her mouth, his eyes not straying from Javed’s face. ‘No problemi?’

Javed swallowed again. ‘No problemi,’ he whispered.

‘Bene,’ the soldier smiled. He took his hand from Latika’s mouth and placed it on Javed’s shoulder, turning him around. Then with a sharp prod in the back he pushed Javed forward into the shadows. ‘Andiamo!’ he cried, turning to the others as the nearby soldiers closed in. ‘Let’s move!’

The gamers glanced uncomfortably at one another and began to move to the back of the ruined room. Ivan and Sam lifted Sean and dragged him along, his feet leaving trails in the snow.

‘Who are these guys?’ whispered Sean.

‘Don’t know,’ said Sam. ‘Just keep walking.’

They followed the soldiers. The soldiers had taken the torches from the walls and were leading the gamers by the torch-light. They passed into a long, dark tunnel which was attached to the back of the ruin. The torches billowed thick, black smoke as the gamers and the soldiers plodded along.

Ten minutes later, the group emerged from the shadows and were greeted by a sight that drew gasps. In front of them was a classical palazzo built in the grand style of the Renaissance. It was huge – five stories high and filled with classical pediments and entablatures, all supported by soaring Corinthian columns.

‘Wow – that’s something,’ said Sam as they approached great bronze double doors