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It never rains in Babylon. Usually she saw short spells of drizzles, over and done in an hour or less. But some days, like today, the heavens opened and poured out their sorrow and their wrath on the city of the damned.<\/p>\n
Karim Mustafa gripped the cyclic with both hands, gently guiding the armored Sentinel gravtruck between skyscrapers and tenement blocks. The AI screamed proximity warnings in every direction. The Sentinel\u2019s gravity mirror hummed soothingly in the cabin, reflecting the Earth\u2019s gravity field to propel the vehicle through the air.<\/p>\n
To his left and right were massive monoliths of steel and glass and concrete. Above and below him were streams of civilian gravcars screaming past at top speed, keeping a respectful distance from the Sentinel and its side-mounted miniguns. Huge rain drops struck the gravtruck a million times a second, every impact sounding like blunted machinegun fire, and his windshield wipers were barely keeping up.<\/p>\n
Lightning flashed in the distance. Thunder rocked the Sentinel. Karim kept his hands steady, blinking through the jagged scar burned into his sight. His eyeshields, a pair of ballistic-grade smartglasses fitted with a camera, projected a bright green dot and a shrinking range estimate, pointing to his destination. Compass bearings whirled about at the upper edge of his glasses. Slipping between buildings, steering clear of the flyers around him, flying by the illumination of blazing white headlights, he made his final approach.<\/p>\n
The Wren\u2019s Nest was a twenty-story apartment. Large enough to occupy its own city block, so small it seemed the half-formed little brother of the skyscrapers behind it. Just one more high-rise in a city of high-rises, almost completely remarkable save for the dozen police cars parked right outside, their light bars painting the world in chaotic splotches of flashing red and blue.<\/p>\n
Karim gently guided the gravtruck down to an empty space, and landed the vehicle on its road wheels with a soft bump.<\/p>\n
\u201cSmooth flying, rookie,\u201d Kayla Fox remarked over the intercom. \u201cNext time you can work on speed, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n
Karim sighed. No matter where you went, everybody always picked on the new guy. At least until he could prove himself.<\/p>\n
Karim undid the seatbelt and completely switched the engine. The heavy rear doors slid open smoothly, and moments later, slammed shut. Karim unclipped his suppressed M83A1 carbine from the door storage compartment and stepped out into the rain.<\/p>\n
A wall of falling water slapped his helmeted head and exposed face, dripped dripping down his eyeshields and cheeks and chin to chill his neck and gather in the folds of his utilities. He unfolded the carbine\u2019s stock, extended it to the second position, and slung the weapon over his neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cRookie, over here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Yuri Yamamoto beckoned Karim over. The other four members of the team were gathered around him in a loose wedge, weapons held low, eyes scanning out. The uniformed cops, dressed in their rain slicks and soft armor, shied away from them.<\/p>\n
They were the Black Watch. The premier team in Nova Babylonia\u2019s premier police tactical unit. When terrorists and violent offenders stalked the streets, when rogue magics or dangerous cybertech emerged from dark corners of the world, when a psi snapped and let a Dark Power hollow him out into a psychotic Husk, the Special Tasks Section got the call. When a situation was too heavy even for the STS, they called the Black Watch.<\/p>\n
Karim hustled over to Yamamoto. Team leader, ace operator and manslayer with a body count who knew how high. Say what you want about him, but the man had\u00a0presence<\/em>. His blood was mixed, like so many people in Babylon, his genetic inheritance plain in his cold gray eyes and high cheekbones and wide chin. But that wasn\u2019t his most striking feature.<\/p>\n The man had\u00a0three<\/em>\u00a0blades. A folding knife in his right knife pocket. A small fixed blade worn horizontally on his belt buckle. And by his left hip, a huge curved knife, so long it was a short sword.<\/p>\n All this he carried in addition to his regular kit, a suppressed M83A1 carbine, a pistol on a drop leg holster, tactical vest and pouches festooned with magazines and pouches and kit, and combat suit fitted with a full set of plates. Looking at him, standing serenely in the storm, his spine erect, his posture perfectly balanced and neutral, Karim had the strange sensation that he wasn\u2019t seeing a man; he was gazing upon a samurai of the streets.<\/p>\n The six operators strode into the lobby. Karim shivered under the relentless blast of the air conditioning. His utilities kept his body warm, but not his exposed face. Scanning, he saw a pair of uniformed cops standing dejectedly near the reception table, questioning a young woman who kept shaking her head.<\/p>\n They took the elevator up to the eleventh floor. The second he stepped out, the miasma of death hammered him.<\/p>\n It was a tangible force, a\u00a0thing<\/em>\u00a0that permeated the walls and floor and polluted the air. In his mind\u2019s eye he saw black and brown clouds clinging to the cops walking the narrow corridor. The taste of iron infiltrated his tongue.<\/p>\n A soft voice whispered into his mind.\u00a0Beware. Murder lies ahead.<\/em><\/p>\n The operators cut through the crowd, Yamamoto seemingly gliding and flowing around the cops, as though he were a river bypassing rocks. He halted ten paces away from a middle-aged man in a bloodstained white coverall and blue latex gloves and overboots, the hood drawn back to reveal a balding pate, a face mask hanging loosely from around his neck.<\/p>\n \u201cGil?\u201d Yamamoto said.<\/p>\n The man smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cYuri. I figured you\u2019d catch this call.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow bad is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s an abattoir in there. Six vics, best as we can tell from the wetware left behind. Hope you didn\u2019t wear your best suit.\u201d<\/p>\n Karim swallowed. Even from here, he could smell the iron-rich tang of blood.<\/p>\n \u201cAny ID?\u201d Yamamoto asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThe apartment is registered to Mr and Mrs Elias Potter. But the bodies\u2026 well, there\u2019s nothing left to identify.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGod\u00a0damn<\/em>,\u201d an operator muttered.<\/p>\n He was Will Connor, the team\u2019s breacher and heavy weapons specialist.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t disrespect the dead,\u201d Yamamoto chided.<\/p>\n \u201cC\u2019mon, boss, it\u2019s not like they\u2019re still around to care,\u201d Fox replied.<\/p>\n The detective chuckled. \u201cI see you\u2019ve got a new guy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. Rookie, this is Detective John Gilbert, BPD Homicide. Gil, Karim Mustafa. Our new psi. He joined us last month. This is his first callout.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood luck, rookie,\u201d Gilbert said.<\/p>\n \u201cUh\u2026 thanks?\u201d Karim said.<\/p>\n The detective chuckled. \u201cTrust me, after you see what\u2019s inside, you\u2019ll understand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTime of death?\u201d Yamamoto asked.<\/p>\n \u201cUnknown. But the 911 call came in at eight forty-two pm. We\u2019ll work with that until or unless the coroner can narrow it down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s about half an hour ago. Any leads on the killer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNegative. We had a pair of K-9 units working the scene, but the rain\u2019s washed off everything they could use. The dogs are still on the outer perimeter, but I\u2019m not going to hold my breath.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGotcha. One last thing: why is the suspect flagged as a Husk?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTrust me, buddy, once you\u2019ve seen the bodies, you\u2019ll understand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHo boy,\u201d Connor muttered.<\/p>\n Yamamoto ignored the remark. \u201cThanks, Gil. Team, on me.\u201d<\/p>\n The operators huddled around Yamamoto.<\/p>\n \u201cKayla and ZT, link up with the K-9 units, see if they\u2019ve found anything useful. James and Will, talk to the unis and get witness reports. Rookie, you\u2019re with me. We\u2019re going in.\u201d<\/p>\n The team dispersed. Kayla Fox and Zen Tan headed downstairs. James Wood and Will Connor cornered Gilbert.<\/p>\n \u201cYou got everything you need for a crime scene, rookie?\u201d Yamamoto asked.<\/p>\n \u201cYup,\u201d Karim replied. \u201cIt\u2019s in my main pack compartment.\u201d<\/p>\n Karim turned away, presenting his pack to the team leader. The pack itself was clipped to his chest rig; it was easier for someone else to take his stuff than to pull off the pack. Yamamoto unzipped the backpack, pulled out a large packing cube and set it on the floor. Yamamoto patted Karim\u2019s shoulder, and allowed Karim to retrieve his crime scene kit.<\/p>\n Inside Karim\u2019s packing cube was a loose white polymer hooded overall, a pair of floppy overboots and another of overgloves. Karim dug out his gas mask from a hip pouch, doffed his helmet, strapped on the mask, then took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. The mask\u2019s seals held. He put his helmet back on, struggled into the overall, then zipped up, pulled the drawstrings tight, and slipped on the hood. Looking up, he saw his team leader waiting for him, already masked and suited up.<\/p>\n \u201cReady?\u201d Yamamoto asked, his voice muffled.<\/p>\n \u201cYup,\u201d Karim replied.<\/p>\n Yamamoto led the way down the corridor. A cop stood guard outside an open doorway, both sides of the hall sealed off with blue and white crime scene tape.<\/p>\n \u201cOfficer, we\u2019re from STS,\u201d Yamamoto said, his badge appearing in his hand. \u201cWe need access to the crime scene.\u201d<\/p>\n The cop gestured. \u201cHelp yourself. And be careful: it\u2019s wet.\u201d<\/p>\n He chuckled darkly to himself. Nonplussed, Karim ducked under the tape. Through the open doorway, he saw a crime scene technician in a white jumpsuit.<\/p>\n \u201cHey!\u201d Yamamoto said. \u201cYou guys the crime scene techs?\u201d<\/p>\n The techie turned around. \u201cYeah. What about it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSTS. We\u2019re here to help,\u201d Yamamoto replied.<\/p>\n \u201cHelp? How?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re here to find the guy who did this. But we need to borrow your scene for a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA\u2019ight. We\u2019ll take a quick water break. Go get the bastard.\u201d<\/p>\n The techie shouted a few orders. Moments later, three men in coveralls filed out the door. Their boots and gloves and suits were covered in blood.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s go, rookie,\u201d Yamamoto said.<\/p>\n Bracing himself, Karim followed Yamamoto into the death scene.<\/p>\n Blood.<\/p>\n Gallons and gallons of blood, sprayed liberally across the living room, coating the walls and floor and ceiling with a thick red coat, slowly turning brown. Bits of gristle and bone and meat lay everywhere, as though tossed about by a hurricane. Among the gibbets were long stringy ropes spilling strange dark matter, and it took Karim a second to realize they were intestines.<\/p>\n \u201cYa allah<\/em>!\u201d Karim whispered.<\/p>\n \u201cTough scene, isn\u2019t it?\u201d Yamamoto said mildly.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2026 I\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNeed a break?\u201d<\/p>\n Karim swallowed. Hard. In his law enforcement career, he had seen horror upon horror, of all manner of wickedness men visited on men. But this,\u00a0this<\/em>\u00a0was some fresh abomination even he had never seen before.<\/p>\n But he had a job to do.<\/p>\n He gulped down his bile and shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cNegative.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood man,\u201d Yamamoto said. \u201cTell me what you can see.\u201d<\/p>\n Karim forced himself to scrutinize the scene. Evidence markers sat next to every noteworthy object, each a silent testimony to the unspeakable brutality of the scene. At least all he smelled was the inert rubber of his gas mask.<\/p>\n Nestled among the gore piles, Karim saw something with straight lines and sharp angles. Several somethings, in fact. Karim carefully weaved among the markers, grabbed the closest object of interest, and delicately extracted it from wet slippery flesh.<\/p>\n It was an egg. A metallic egg bristling with fine golden tendrils, roughly the size of a large marble. Unusually dense, it was warm to the touch. Not physically warm, no; it was warm in the Aether, in the otherworldly realms neighboring this one, warm in the way only his strangely-wired brain could perceive.<\/p>\n It was the heat of the eldritch.<\/p>\n \u201cGood find,\u201d Yamamoto said.<\/p>\n Karim startled. Somehow Yamamoto had slid up beside him.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d Karim asked.<\/p>\n \u201cMindgem. The brain implant the Singularity Network hands out to its initiated members.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe vic was a member of the SN?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure looks like it,\u201d Yamamoto said. \u201cSee if you can find any more.\u201d<\/p>\n There were six Mindgems. Three adult sized, three smaller ones designed for children. Yamamoto glared at the last.<\/p>\n \u201cSin likes to take them young,\u201d he said, using the SN\u2019s street name. \u201cParents are encouraged to initiate their children into the network.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll religions are like that,\u201d Karim replied.<\/p>\n \u201cSin isn\u2019t a religion.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought the Babylon Accords listed their deity as a New God.\u201d<\/p>\n Yamamoto laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cThey don\u2019t have a god. What they do have is an immensely powerful decentralized supercomputer spread across their Shards. Their notion of worship is to continuously upgrade and expand the supercomputer network until they create a deus ex machina. A god from the machine.<\/p>\n \u201cThat Mindgem over there? It\u2019s a computer. It gives every Sinner access to the Network\u2019s intranet, performs parallel computing on demand, and, for their Elect, enables them to connect with the Will of the Net. A distributed artificial intelligence representing the collective desires of the network. An AI they hope to upgrade to a god.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHuh. I\u2026 I didn\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that info isn\u2019t for public consumption. But this job will take us into regular contact with the New Gods. You need to know this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUnderstood.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEnough yapping. Time to get to work, rookie. What do you need?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI need you to clear the room. It\u2019ll be easier to read the space this way.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGot it.\u201d<\/p>\n Yamamoto retreated, leaving Karim alone with the dead.<\/p>\n Karim clapped his hands, holding them at chest height. Lowering his head, he reached out into the Aether.<\/p>\n Galen, hear my cry. Lend me your eyes, that I may look into the past, find the one who did this, and neutralize him.<\/em><\/p>\n White sparks flashed across his vision. Karim\u2019s eyes throbbed and grew warm. A soothing male voice spoke into Karim\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n You shall have them. Good luck.<\/em><\/p>\n Images and sounds and smells and textures crashed into Karim\u2019s mind. Men shouting and women laughing and children crying and food cooking and a hundred thousand senses. It was the timestream, raw and unfiltered, blasting his head with a complete record of everything that had ever occurred in this patch of space-time.<\/p>\n Karim navigated himself to the point a half hour ago and looked.<\/p>\n The living room was clean and pristine. No blood, no guts, just immaculate parquet. Six people sat at the dining table to Karim\u2019s right. An adult male presided at the head of the table, a younger adult female on his right, another female to his left. The women seemed related, both sporting the same blond hair and blue eyes and soft jaws\u2014sisters, perhaps. Three children occupied the rest of the table, two boys and a girl, the last sitting across the male. A huge pot of roast beef stew dominated the table, surrounded by smaller plates of vegetables and potatoes.<\/p>\n Everyone tucked in. The man was relaxed and unhurried, the women fussing over the children, the children awkwardly manipulating their child-sized forks and spoons and knives.<\/p>\n The door crashed in.<\/p>\n A huge fat man in a black coat ambled into the living room. The women shied away, the children shrieked, the man shot to his feet.<\/p>\n \u201cWho the hell are you?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n The intruder grinned and raised his arms.<\/p>\n The fat man\u2019s skin turned a sickly mottled green. His eyes bulged, covering almost half his face. His teeth reformed into sharp points. The corruption spread down his neck, racing up his arms. His exposed hands turned scaly, his fingers compressed and elongated, more digits sprouted from his hands, and his fingers and hands transformed into tentacles. Tentacles lined with barbs and spikes, terminating in sucker-mouths with inward-pointing teeth.<\/p>\n He was an Elect, a chosen by a god to be a vessel for eldritch powers.<\/p>\n A fallen Elect who had become a Husk.<\/p>\n The tentacles split apart and shot from his arms, seizing the women and children and the man. The children screamed and squirmed and tried to wriggle loose, the women protested and the monster shoved tentacles down their mouths and into their ears and noses, the man grabbed a carving knife and slashed away but the scales turned the blade and a cluster of tentacles latched on to his face.<\/p>\n The intruder dragged his victims out of their chairs and into the living room. Karim heard soft chewing noises and muffled screams and blood dripped on the floor. A pair of smaller tentacles parted the monster\u2019s coat, revealing a naked bloated belly of green flesh. The invader laughed and his belly split open to reveal a mouth. The mouth of a shark, with row upon row upon row of triangular teeth. He reeled the victims in and\u2026<\/p>\n And\u2026<\/p>\n Karim winced. He could not look. He had to look. Bones crunched. Flesh tore. Blood gushed. Now and then the monster spat out a metal object from a tentacle-mouth.<\/p>\n The monster stopped abruptly.<\/p>\n \u201cUh?\u201d the Husk muttered, cocking his head.<\/p>\n For a second, he went completely still.<\/p>\n Then he greedily shoved as much flesh in his belly and tentacles as he could fit in his many, many mouths. He tossed the remaining bits and implants aside and waddled down a hall.<\/p>\n Karim froze the timestream. With his human eyes, he navigated the living room, careful to avoid disturbing the evidence. The blood trail led down the main hall into the master bedroom. Keeping to a corner, Karim continued watching.<\/p>\n The monster shuffled into the room, stifling a yawn. He drew the curtains, flung the windows open, went down on all fours and transformed again.<\/p>\n His neck melted, his head fusing to his torso in a smooth contiguous arc. His face-mouth grew wider, wider, slicing across his cheeks. His legs rippled and twisted, growing huge and muscular. Bright orange horns sprouted from his head. The image reminded Karim of an unholy union of a squid and a frog.<\/p>\n The thing extended its tentacles out the window. Karim followed it, watching it adhere to the roof and clamber down. It paused for a second, and with its powerful hind legs gently closed the window. It looked up, paused again, and jumped.<\/p>\n It leapt clean across the six-lane highway, brushing past a passing skycar, and landed on the roof of the opposite building. It jumped again and again, heading for the horizon, and disappeared into the skyline.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not getting away,\u201d Karim vowed.<\/p>\n Humans assumed that their perspectives were limited only to their mortal senses, but centuries ago the New Gods had revealed the truth: with the right training, guided by a patron deity, a human could access the infinite.<\/p>\n Karim closed out his view of the timestream and projected his consciousness up and out of himself. Now it seemed like he was looking down at himself from the ceiling. He rose through the ceiling, through the apartments above him, out through the roof of the Wren\u2019s Nest. Then he expanded his view and looked into the Aether.<\/p>\n A stream of ugly green light betrayed the monster\u2019s path, tracing its passage from rooftop to rooftop. He sent his consciousness forth, charging upstream, passing into and through buildings and skycars and billboards like a ghost, and presently found himself staring at another high-rise, a fifteen-floor construct. On the top floor, at the leftmost window, right by the fire escape, a window glowed with sickly emerald light.<\/p>\n Raising his hands to eye level, he saw a menu pop up on his eyeshields, represented by blue circles ringing his fingertips, each circle labeled with specific functions.<\/p>\n He folded the finger for navigation, and a street map of Babylon appeared across the glasses.<\/p>\n Karim\u2019s hands flowed through a series of gestures, zooming out and dragging across the map, recreating the monster\u2019s path. The Husk had headed in a straight line south by southwest, an absurdly easy path to trace. He reoriented Galen\u2019s eyes, bringing it to the same elevation and scale as his digital map, and made a few more fine adjustments.<\/p>\n Both visual feeds meshed perfectly.<\/p>\n Karim dropped a pin on the location and closed the display.<\/p>\n Galen, thank you for your aid. I will bring justice to the wicked and avenge the innocent. Please continue to watch over me and my team.<\/em><\/p>\n A deep male chuckle filled his mind.<\/p>\n Evil prowls the streets of Babylon. You shall go forth and destroy them in my name.<\/em><\/p>\n Karim nodded. Understood.<\/p>\n Karim returned to the living room. Yamamoto was waiting by the door.<\/p>\n \u201cWell?\u201d Yamamoto asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI got him,\u201d Karim reported. \u201c18 Harland Boulevard. Top floor, white side, window one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood job, rookie. Let\u2019s get going.\u201d<\/p>\n He turned for the door.<\/p>\n \u201cWait!\u201d Karim said.<\/p>\n Yamamoto swung back with liquid grace. \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want\u2026 I\u00a0need<\/em>\u00a0to be on the entry team.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGalen said so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. I\u2026 He said he wanted me to.\u201d<\/p>\n Gods did not hand out their powers lightly, and the ones they chose must carry out their will on demand. Or suffer the consequences.<\/p>\n Yamamoto\u2019s eyes narrowed behind his eyeshields.<\/p>\n \u201cVery well.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t thank me yet, rookie. We haven\u2019t even gotten to the hard part.\u201d<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n If you like stories that blend sci fi, fantasy, horror and authentic combat, check out my latest novel\u00a0HAMMER OF THE WITCHES<\/a>.<\/p>\n![\"Cheah](\"https:\/\/steemitimages.com\/0x0\/https:\/\/cdn.steemitimages.com\/DQmcSX4MiYdPvqUChc7eBRiaSvNLAb2vT71wFubG75cArg8\/Cheah%20Git%20San%20Red.jpg\")
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