Mathias: And the Golden Phoenix

By Matthew Robinson

It takes one great mind to create the greatest weapon, but one even greater to become its host. This weaponised technology allows one man above all, to become indestructible, due to an extremely rare and virtually unheard of ability to control the beat of his heart, however terrifying or adrenaline-fuelled any given situation, forcing his brain to operate beyond intelligence, making a super computer appear as a childs toy. Its enemy, however, is an army built of perfected robotic technology of the twenty-third century. This nation of drones are controlled by children who are trained to believe its a game and will only go without punishment if they treat it as such. One childs passion and respect for the game means he fights only for revenge and what he believes is right.
The United Kingdom, like the rest of the world, has a common enemy as the USA face Britain as their last assault, that will finally allow the president to be the first to achieve world domination. Only, the unforeseen force of this tiny country proves to be too much of a task. As they have a unique defence that only pure royal blood can control, leaving the queen with the power of the phoenix to unleash the fury of long-forgotten ancient warriors from myth and legend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Feb 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493140527

Matthew Robinson

Matthew Robinson is a novelist who writes adventure, fantasy, and science fiction stories. He has a Associates of Arts degree and he is earning a Bachelor in Fine Arts in Creative Writing.

Book preview

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Acknowledgements

My beautiful wife—Nicola Robinson

For her love and support.

Her patience, understanding and joint care for my project

means so much to me.

Sharing this experience with her has been fun and memorable.

For this I am most thankful.

I love you

Abdul & Margaret

For their encouragement and generosity as without whom,

this publication would not have been possible

Andrew

His ideas and input of my book,

has lead to improving the original story line.

Barry

For his knowledge of history, mythology and exciting facts.

Danielle

For the small section of my book she typed up.

Kem Enon

His exceptional composition of this powerful Cover Art

pushed my vision beyond expectation.

Noel Callego

For composing my book brilliantly

with his compelling interior design

Rachel Burns

This friendly lady made the submission process

easy and understandable

Carla Cobar

For insuring my plans and ideas for the exterior designs

were followed

Shalini Rathna

For her exceptional editing of the manuscript

Mary Lopez

For making myself and family feel welcome and at ease.

She is an asset to the Xlibris team

and a pleasure to work with.

Prologue

The year is 2099. After nearly a century of war, terror, murder, and death, millions upon millions of innocent people all round the world have been killed by gunfire, bombs, and brutal inhumane attacks, including chemical weaponry, rape, child abuse, and slavery. Hundreds of thousands more have died from poverty and starvation.

The reason for this sudden change from a once-not-perfect-but-acceptable society, lies with the greed of the world’s current leaders, who nearly a century ago headed the most corrupt governments to have ever been recorded in the pages of history.

It began in the year 2015, when the technology to build the very first self-sustaining robot was discovered and stolen by the USA.

And so began… the Drone Race.

This obviously, yet regrettably, led to World War III. Every country on Earth fought for their own survival to protect their countries and regain full control of their land, leaving America high and dry, having survived that long as a nation that relied purely on foreign resources. However, the members of the U.S. Senate, in the position of unquestionable power, decided to force the entire world to fight in this war, having imprisoned the UN members that opposed them.

USA claimed the long-awaited and perfected robotic technology for their own gain by flooding the world with American citizens with nothing but violence and hate in their souls, sending the entire U.S. military to all foreign countries to maintain full control and put a stop to any proud leaders around the world who would dare to attempt invasion of America, leaving the protection of the USA in the hands of its children and young adults, all employed as drivers of the radio-controlled drones, better known as… gamers.

The USA finally expanded its empire and overran every country on Earth… bar one… the United Kingdom, from becoming the first to perfect the drone and to create in great numbers the technological wonder by building an entire nation of drones, that when questioned, would attack with an apparently unstoppable force.

Plans for the invasion of the United Kingdom were finalised and the attack was due to begin any day.

The United Kingdom was unprepared for the attack, but ancient prophecies that existed through a secret and secure gateway from parallel worlds within our own atmosphere to Earth as we know it was hidden deep in the land of Great Britain and were untouchable by those not pure of heart or a member of the blue blood family line, in true power, basing his or her own life on virtue and respect, defending the lives of the Great British public.

In further defence, the United Kingdom had a secret weapon that was unknown by the USA and had never been seen before in all human history.

It had no trigger, no remorse, and had the ability to make its own decisions in any situation… My name is Mathias and this is my story…

Chapter 1

It is a dark, dull, rainy, and eerie morning. The sound of silence fills the air, accompanied by the smell of wet soil and rotting corpses that have filled the streets with a stink that is an assault on the senses.

Matthew is tossing and turning in bed, fully clothed, in a room that is dark, damp, and quiet.

The only noise is the sound of rain hitting the window and splashing off a sheet of plastic that looks like a black bin liner gaffer taped to the frame as one appears to be smashed through, accompanied by wind whistling through a small open gap in the bottom corner.

Matthew lies alone in bed, still turning, shaking, and sweating, muttering words like, ‘It’s OK. Don’t worry. I’m here now. Follow me and keep low.’ The wind begins to whistle louder and louder, rushing through the whole flat; the cat flap swings back and forth, and by the state of it, it’s clearly not in use.

There is a handgun next to a glass of water, almost balancing on the edge of a table next to the bed, with an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and a newspaper.

The sudden wind turns the pages vigorously, stopping on the middle page spread, which has a picture of a stealth bomber, fully armed in mid-flight.

The page is titled ‘The USA will attack not why or where, but when’. Meanwhile, the whistling is still getting louder.

Wallpaper is peeling off with mould in every corner of every room; carpets are torn and stained with vomit, urine, and blood.

The wind rushes through fast, leaving the bedroom door swinging and creaking, echoing through the emptiness of the corridor and other rooms.

The door begins closing slowly while Matthew continues muttering; it closes faster and faster until it finally slams, making an almighty bang that shakes the windows, walls, and even the floorboards.

Mathew suddenly wakes up covered in sweat, sitting in an upright position with his hands on his head, shouting at the top of his voice, ‘Rrruuuuuuuuuuun!’

Realising he was dreaming, he drops his hands to his lap, looks up at the filthy ceiling, takes a deep breath, and drops his head forward. Sweat runs down his forehead and cheeks, dripping off the end of his nose and chin. Feeling thankful that it was just a dream, he wipes his hands down his face, then back through his hair while lying back and dropping on to his dusty, smelly pillow.

He rolls over, looking at the window that is still whistling, takes a deep breath, and sighs, looking bored and depressed. He looks at the table, and his gun is pointing directly at his head, so he can see right down the dark hollow barrel. His imagination begins to play with his mind, thinking to himself that if the gun was to go off, he wouldn’t have a chance. He gives himself a small chuckle out of fear and glares in deep thought with a completely blank look on his face… bang.

Matthew jumps out of his skin and falls off the bed, clutching the duvet to try and stay up, but drops to the floor, landing on his back in God-knows-what, and rubs his shoulder.

He whispers to himself, ‘Fucker!’ in an angry tone and takes another deep breath with a look of anger covering his face. He tries to sit up, but the ceiling suddenly starts dripping rainwater on him, landing in his eye and on his cheek next to his nose; he clenches his fists and tenses every muscle in his body, growling to himself, exposing his teeth while biting down as hard as possible.

He stands up remaining tense and walks over to the window. Like being zapped by a stun gun, he rips the curtains open and shouts at the top of his voice, ‘You fucking wankers, keep the fucking noise down!’ But before he could finish what he was going to say, the glass smashes through, and a rock the size of a fist flies right past him, so close to his head that he feels the wind, leaving a small scratch on his ear, making him drop to the floor in shock. ‘For fuck’s sake, it’s too early for this shit!’

Matthew stands up slowly and calmly, poking his head up from the bottom of the frame, looks out the window, and sees two young children, a boy and girl no older than thirteen by the looks of them, both with hoodie jackets on, standing in the middle of the road about ten feet apart facing each other. The young girl drops her hood to her shoulders, almost like she intentionally wants the young boy to see who she is.

She slowly raises a handgun, aiming at him with an uncontrollably shaky hand.

The boy starts shouting, ‘You won’t do it. You ain’t got the bottle… your nuffin’!’

The girl’s entire body starts to shake vigorously, trying not to cry, but she couldn’t stop the tears running down her face.

‘See? Look at you, crying like a baby!’ he sneers. ‘Just like your little sister did, right before I shot her.’

The girl screams at the top of her voice, ‘Baastaaard!’ and pulls the trigger continuously whilst walking towards him, forcing his blood to spurt out from his back.

Matthew can see that the bullets have gone straight through and the boy has no chance of living; the girl then leans over the young boy who is now lying on the road spitting blood and struggling to breathe while holding his chest and neck. She points the gun at his head, pushing it deep in his eye, forcing the boy to release a terrifying scream of pain.

The girl leans forward, placing her mouth centimetres from his ear, holding the gun steady, pushing it even deeper in his eye. ‘I forgive you,’ she says calmly, with a shake in her voice, and pulls the trigger one final time, making a deafening bang.

She slowly stands up with a completely blank expression on her face and looks straight at the window where Matthew is standing; she looks like she has seen a ghost or is hypnotised or something. Matthew cannot explain the look.

She begins moving her lips like she is saying something. Matthew can’t be certain what it is, but could almost swear she said, ‘They’re coming.’ She then lifts the gun slowly to her head and without hesitation, pulls the trigger; blood spurts out from the other side of her head and the power of the bullet takes her off her feet.

Matthew closes his eyes, feeling useless, unable to do anything to help the poor girl. He drops his head in what looks like shame, as society continues to crumble around him. He turns around, and sits down slowly, sliding his back down the wall beneath the smashed window.

As he reaches the floor, his legs are bent and his forearms are resting on his knees. He drops his gun to the floor and puts his hands on his head, wondering what that girl meant by saying, ‘They’re coming.’ He knows the attack on Britain is in fact overdue to the country, but this seemed like it was meant directly for him. Beginning to feel worried, he grabs his gun, pointing it around the room, thinking that no one could touch him as long as he held it near him. A loud bang rumbles through the whole flat, sounding like it is the communal front door of the building being kicked through, followed by a man’s voice sounding like the military in a sticky situation, ‘Go, go, go, go!’ A rumble of footsteps rushes through the entire building.

Matthew, who is now stuck in his room not knowing what is going on, begins to panic and grips his gun tight with both hands, pointing it directly at the door. The footsteps finally come to stop right outside; then all of a sudden, complete silence… Matthew can hear whispers so quiet that no word could be made out and that end with a loud ‘Sshhhhhhh!’ Matthew steps back slowly, trying not to make a sound, almost creeping, but accidently creates a very slight cracking sound in the floorboards. His face clenches up, squinting like he’s just sucked on a lemon, gripping his gun even tighter, still aiming at the door. He takes a final step back as slow as he can while gulping involuntarily and, to his shock, accidently nudges the table with the side of his leg.

The glass of water pretty much balancing on the edge falls to the ground. He watches it fall. His face looks terrified, thinking this is the end for him. His gun still aiming at the door, sweat dripping off his chin, the glass hits the floor and smashes, echoing through the silence of the room.

The door suddenly bursts open with a loud bang almost smashing it off its hinges; there’s not enough time to count how many men there are as they flood through, dressed in black with masks on and what looks like night vision goggles shining a green laser from the top of their guns all around the room.

One laser aims directly at Matthew’s head, filling his vision with a blinding florescent green glow.

Out of fear and shock, he shoots into the crowd of black suits, stepping back towards the window.

His vision that is still full of green light is blinded, forcing his pupils to expand from the strain of his focus. Then, right in the centre of the surrounding green glow, he spots a flash of white light and instantly throws himself backwards to the floor faster than he ever knew he could move.

The window behind him smashes and shatters completely as a bullet zooms up his face, leaving a burn mark on his forehead; he lands on his back, puts his hands on the floor just above his shoulders, raises his legs into a handstand, and pushes himself up feet first towards the window, his entire body in mid-flight, facing the floor, heading for the window like a man-shaped javelin smashes through the shattered glass with bullets flashing by him.

Matthew, realising he is three floors up, prepares himself for the landing.

As he nears the floor, he braces himself, hits the ground feet first, and hits it hard.

Upon landing, he curls up and rolls backwards three times, then rolls again straight on to his feet with a look on his face of shock, thinking, ‘How the fuck did I do that?!’ shaking unstoppably, checking his body, making sure all of his limbs were still intact. He glances around at where the two dead children’s bodies should be, but they are nowhere to be seen.

‘Fuck me!’ he says, breathing uncontrollably, looking at himself in a state of shock, then notices those green laser lights moving all around him.

‘Shit!’ he says to himself in blind panic. He turns quickly and runs as fast as he can, gunfire flashing and echoing through the street, running and avoiding getting shot, dodging the sparks on the floor, shifting his body left, right, left, and right. The sound of gunfire and deflecting bullets off the road are deafening. He holds his hands over his head, covering his ears, runs past a lamp post; bullets deflect off it with uncountable sparks and do so off all the surrounding objects, smashing car windows and setting off the alarms.

He finally makes it round the corner of a building and keeps running as fast as he can, breathing so fast and heavily that he’s surprised he is still awake, still running and struggling more than ever to do so. He finally comes to a stop, leaving him physically unable to take even one more step.

He leans over, placing his hands on his knees, still breathing fast, opening his mouth wide while breathing in as his body naturally demands more air and finally, with great difficulty, stands up straight. The adrenaline begins to wear off and he discovers he has hurt his leg; he limps off down a dark alleyway growling in pain, spitting and dribbling, holding the walls to keep balance, then stops without choice and breathes slowly. All of a sudden, he is calm, drops his hands and shoulders and starts swaying like a rag doll on strings, breathes out like he’s not going to breathe again, and falls face first into a pile of black bin bags.

A dozen rats evacuate the disturbed area, and Matthew sinks into deep sleep with his face right next to a mouldy tin of beans covered in flies and maggots, snoring like a baby.

Chapter 2

Meanwhile, back at the flat, the men in black argue amongst themselves, bickering with different opinions about how that man did what he did.

One of the armed men, still aiming his gun and shining his laser in the street, searching for Matthew, breathing heavily and looking shocked, whispers to himself, ‘That’s impossible.’

One of the other men walks to his side with his gun at his waist, and barrel facing the floor. ‘Kyle… he’s gone, mate.’ Then he puts his hand on top of the barrel of Kyle’s gun, pushing it down, forcing him to lower his weapon, at the same time switches off his laser and flicks the safety on.

He willingly lowers his firearm and takes a deep breath.

‘We are supposed to be the threatening ones, but that shit was crazy. How the fuck did he get away from our bullets?!’ Then, he shivers, breathing out and shaking his head, making his lips wobble, ‘Scary bastard!’

The other man, still with his hand on top of Kyle’s gun, continues, ‘Relax… you told us before to keep our eyes open for things like this, so this could be exactly what you’ve been looking for.’

Kyle, taking one final look in to the street with a disturbed look on his face, thinks, ‘I’m going to find you.’ He squints his eyes and is now determined to find out who he is.

One of the men inside behind Kyle also looking shocked speaks up with a tremble in his voice, ‘So… what now?’

Kyle lifts his gun to the side of his face with the barrel