The King's Creed Ch.01

***

I wove through traffic with near supernatural aplomb.

My chip had somehow rendered a detailed map of New York City within my mind. I knew all the side streets I needed to use, and I could calculate the probability of traffic on each road spontaneously.

But it wasn't enough. My brain ran through the calculations over and over again . . . and each time it spat out the same answer. I only had a 16.432 percent chance of preventing Carol from handing those files off to KNI.

I opened my phone and dialed the KNI number from memory. I had used it before as an FBI agent; yet for some reason I didn't need to look it up. My memory all too readily supplied the information.

They picked up on the first ring. "Hello, this is Knowledge, News, and Investigation, home of the Afternoon News with Sam Young. This is Debra speaking."

"Debra, this is Supervisory Agent Jonathan Creed with the FBI, stationed in New York Federal Plaza. My supervisor is Samuel Jones. I urgently need to speak with whoever handles your information acceptances."

"This is highly unusual, Agent Creed," she said. "Let me transfer you to our legal counsel. He will want to ask you why you're not calling from a government number."

I pressed the solar pedal hard, and my car's engine thrummed as I shot through an intersection just as the light turned red. I was just five minutes out. I had made better time than I'd anticipated. My chances of success rose to 21.3 percent.

"Hello, this is Jeff Connors, head legal counsel here at KNI. What is your call concerning, Agent Creed?"

I launched right into my explanation. "Listen closely," I said. "In about five minutes or less, I'll be arriving at your headquarters. A woman named Carol Pearson is suspected of being in possession of some sensitive documents belonging to an ongoing FBI investigation. I would be very appreciative if you would have your building's security detain her, and then turn her over into my custody."

There was a pause.

I made a sharp right turn. Two minutes away.

"Agent Creed," began Jeff Connors, "does this woman in question want to turn over documents to our organization? Does she have a story for us?"

"Counselor Connors, you would have the sincere appreciation of the FBI if you would refuse to take the documents from Ms. Pearson and turn her over to my custody."

"Look, since 2055 under Tomilson v. USA, the media is not obligated to censor itself at the discretion of the federal government unless it directly affects an ongoing military operation, and only then if it poses a direct threat to the lives of servicemen. Do these documents fall under that purview?"

I grit my teeth.

"It is a possibility," I hedged.

"We will see when we get the papers then," said Connors. "See you soon, Agent Creed."

I pulled into the parking lot, my fingers white and trembling on the steering wheel as I clutched it in anger. I didn't see Carol's car in the parking lot, but that could mean anything.

I slammed the door as I got out.

Chapter 6

KNI News emblazoned the heavy glass door leading into the lobby. The entire facility was constructed with modern architecture in mind, straight lines and shined steel making up the bones of the place. The smell of a thousand cups of coffee was masked by the smell of an acrid lemon sanitizer.

I frantically looked around the lobby hoping beyond hope to see Carol waiting in one of the chairs. No such luck.

A blonde woman was sitting behind a minimalistic front desk. Just past her was a row of metal detectors and a security guard. On the other side was a bank of elevators. The woman had a name tag on that read "Candice."

I pulled my FBI tag out and showed it to her.

"Hello," I said. I was surprised to hear that my normal mild professional tones had been replaced by the frigid terseness of my beast.

"I am Supervisory Agent Creed. I was in contact with your legal advisor, Mr. Connors, five minutes ago. Did he call down mentioning my arrival?"

Candice flashed me a small, vapid smile.

"Mr. Connors has informed me that he will be coming down to talk with you. Please, have a seat. I'm sure he'll be down shortly."

I looked around one last time. Carol wasn't in the lobby, and I couldn't get past security without a warrant. 2.002 percent chance of success.

***

Ten minutes later, Jeff Connors strode through the metal detectors with a giant shit-eating smile on his face. He was a bald man dressed in an immaculate gray suit and purple tie.

"Ah, Agent Creed," he said as he extended a hand to shake, "sorry to keep you waiting."

I ignored his hand and stood up. A deep primal part of myself grinned manically when I realized I was taller than him.

I gazed into his eyes with an unflinching calm. Even I could tell that I was holding myself unnaturally still. Most people move simply as a by-product of being alive. People breathe. They fidget. They blink.

I stood stone-still. Like a statue.

My outward stillness was a mask. I was like a thin bed of ice, over an endlessly cold sea of water. One slip, and my flat surface would break . . . and then there would be nothing to hide my dark, biting anger.

"Where is she?" I asked emotionlessly.

Connors blinked once. He seemed shaken. Like he had been thrown off his stride.

"Uh . . . right," he said, straightening himself up to his full height. "Well, the lady in question had already been through my office by the time you called. I had cleared her submissions to go ahead and be given to the acquisitions department."

Zero percent.

Connors eyed me closely.

"I also called your branch office. I asked if there was currently a warrant for Carol Pearson's arrest. There wasn't."

I could tell he was feeling back in his element. My mind was already reeling with new calculations and algorithms. I still needed to locate Carol. The Bureau would need to know about this information breech.

Connors was still talking.

"I also asked about you, Agent Creed. Apparently, you are currently using your vacation time and aren't currently acting as a member of any FBI field mission."

He was smiling now, clearly enjoying his shining moment of defeating the big, bad federal government. I didn't have time to take him down a few notches. I was too busy focusing on Carol. My mind was dredging up everything I knew about her attempting to figure out what she would do next.

In my mind's eye, I could envision every detail of her person . . . as if she were standing directly in front of me. Then, I felt a small moment of awareness flash brightly in my mind.

"You let her out some sort of back entrance," I said aloud without meaning to.

Connor's eyes widened in momentary shock. Then they narrowed suspiciously.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Now, since I think we are done here, I would suggest you vacate the premises until you return with a warrant."

I wasn't listening to him anymore. He was halfway through his sentence, and I was already busy striding back out the glass door to the parking lot. I was following the little small dot of awareness that I sensed moving through an alleyway next to the building.

***

Carol's car was parked in a small alcove next to the building's industrial-sized dumpsters. The place reeked of stale food and the warm ventilation updraft that New York is famous for. She was fiddling with her key and her purse while she tried to balance on her crutches. Her back was to me.

I didn't make a sound. I didn't say a word. I spent all my energy trying to conquer the anger inside me. This kind of anger wasn't natural to me. I recognized it as possessing that same artificial feel that heralded my chip's influence.

But that didn't make the feelings any less potent.

The thin layer of ice was splintering . . . and I didn't know if I could hold back the flood.

Carol's back stiffened suddenly, and her entire body quaked in a noiseless shiver. Very slowly, she turned around and faced me. Her eyes were hard and fixed. She looked like a woman who had come to a decision that she couldn't be shaken from.

"You're too late, Jonathan," she said, an ugly venom in her voice.

"I know," I said emotionlessly.

"The entire world will know about these technological abominations. They will know my story."

I remained silent.

It is time to dominate this one. Her free will has done nothing but harm.

Carol continued, half shouting.

"I can feel your anger . . . thanks to this THING inside my mind. It can detect all that rage that is rolling off you like smoke from a flame. I shouldn't be able to feel that. I don't WANT to feel that!"

"Be silent," I said. My voice cracked like the first ice of a spring thaw, loud and terrible.

Carol's face scrunched up, and beads of sweat began to dot her brow. With a fast motion, she plunged her hand into her purse and removed a small revolver. She put it to her head, the metal of the gun pressing a divot at the side of her temple.

Her hand was trembling.

"Don't . . . say . . . another . . . word . . . Jonathan," she said in a rough staccato. "I will... kill... myself if you do." She paused. "I won't...be a... slave."

Her entire body seemed to be spasming under the supreme effort of disobeying my commands.

We stared at each other for a moment that seemed to span both an eternity... and the smallest fraction of a moment. This was a battle of wills. There was a sense, deep in my gut, that Carol would indeed pull that trigger.

She took a breath.

"Did you really think I could just quietly live with the man who ruined my father? Who shattered my knee?"

Her words sounded distraught, but I wasn't listening. My mind was idling, drifting. Carol had ruined everything. The FBI would review me for leaking those documents. They might arrest me. They would almost certainly fire me. They might even take us all away to study the hardware in our heads...

They might separate me from Sarah.

My melancholic mind drifted fondly over thoughts of my redhead. I loved her. Down to the very marrow of my bones. I smiled gently to myself as I remembered her bursting awake to an imagined command. Was it really such a short time ago?

Not an imagined command. A mental command.

Suddenly, my daydreams disappeared . . . and I knew what I could do.

Would it really be right? I asked myself.

Would it be right to take away her free will? So far . . . nothing that has happened has been my fault. If I were to do this, I would be the one taking everything from her.

From somewhere deep in the dark of my mind, a voice replied.

'She already belongs to Rex. You must simply show her what is already true.'

Then, I felt the energy that I associated with my chip trickling down my spine. My hesitation was suddenly replaced with a wide, sharp smile.

I took a step forward, smiling at Carol like a maniac. In an instant, she made her decision. She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. The last one she ever planned to take. Then she tried to pull the trigger.

But her finger didn't move.

***

I'm rather evil aren't I?

If I managed to entertain, why not leave me a comment or send me a message? It gladdens me to know I'm not just writing these stories to an empty room.

-Noble Truth