Chapter 39 - 39 - Anger And Annoyance

*THUD!*

With a loud thump, another one of these horrific, nightmarish predators fell to the ground.

Without any care, the old man stepped over the corpse while pulling out another one of those mysterious matches from its holder, lit it, and threw it behind him. He didn't even wait to see as the Garkain was instantly engulfed in the flames of the raging fire.

Instead, he clicked his tongue and frowned with annoyance, as he reached inside the leather bag.

"F*ck… These rats are swarming everywhere! I'm out of bullets… How annoying…"

Realizing that he used up all his prepared ammunition, he flipped his pistols, putting them away in their holsters.

"I am way too old for this…" He grumbled as he raised his arms, crumpling back his sleeves, revealing a pair of metallic bracers shining with the same silvery hue as the bullets before. Whilst most of the wrist looked simple and normal, the section below the wrist suggested some kind of device or a hidden tool. A slight bump, a little silver-like small box was attached, protruding back against his arm for a couple of inches.

"I should get longer weapons. With these small blades, I will be bathed by that disgusting slime before I reach their f*cking nest!"

After a couple more seconds of hushed cursing at how unlucky he was, the old man sighed, and looked forward, the ever-stretching darkness ahead. Although he was crossing deeper and deeper for hours now, leaving behind dozens of corpses, or in this case, piles of ashes, it didn't seem like he made any progress at all.

He was still in the exact same-looking part of the city's sewers. The grimy sewage was still there, as disgusting, and as malodorous as ever. Still, that didn't seem to bother the old man at all. He continued to silently chew on something, as he scanned the darkness ahead. The only difference was that now his arms were raised in front of his body, as his hands bent backward, giving way to the strange bracelet hanging on his wrist.

"If I'm going to be covered with their f*cking slime by the time I reach the core, I will beat that alcoholic priest to the next day!" He grumbled again, resuming his trek.

The eerie darkness and creepy, ominous silence followed him as he slowly but surely ventured towards the deeper sections of this underground urban maze.

Eventually, the familiar shriek and two pairs of yellowish eyes popped up. Not even a second later, two large bodies, the Garkains appeared in front of the man, lounged in the air. Claws in front, jaws snapped ajar, ready to rip the human apart.

However, before they reached their dinner, two simultaneous clicking sounds could be heard. Two arms shot forward, each for one of the Garkains crossing through the air.

The shrieks repeated themselves, this time filled with a gurgling after effect, carrying much less vigor than a moment ago. The two monstrous figures fell down to the ground, just before reaching their delicious-looking target, both reaching towards the bloody incision on their necks.

They cried out, their voices filled with gurgling blood as their throats rapidly got filled with their own dark, thick, viscous blood.

"F*cking flying rats! Pfft!" The old man spat on the one on the right, his grimy, black ball of saliva splashed against the beast's slime-covered torso. He flicked both of his wrists, watching as two small blades snapped back to their hidden, default position.

As the satisfying clicking sound notified him that the hidden blades are back in their position, a small smirk appeared over the man's face. He looked at his bracelets a moment longer before he reached for his matchbox and lit up two matches.

"Gotta admit though… This weapon that priest gave me, does its job perfectly. Two clean strikes, no effort at all!"

Lighting both fresh corpses on fire, and passing by them, the old man couldn't help but shake his head as a wry smile stretched across his silvery, bearded face.

"Jonathan… Jonathan… You really are growing old. Talking to yourself as you casually stroll in sewage full of shit and monsters? Stop playing around, you know why you are here! You have to find her traces!"

As the painful memory of the last month resurfaced in his mind, the old man, Jonathan, resumed his adventure deeper and deeper into this monster-infested urban labyrinth. As the stern outlook, the focus regained its dominance over his aged face, he reached into his left breast pocket and gently caressed a photo safely tucked away in there…

"Don't worry my little princess… I will find you even if I have to clean this entire continent of the filth!" He whispered his promise, clenching his fists with the helpless rage he felt.

—

"Master… We have searched for his traces, but after leaving that city we lost their traces…"

A robust-looking bald man was standing in a white small windowless room. Still, despite the lack of natural light, the room, and the hallway in front of it were brightly lit, basking in a blinding colorless light.

The walls painted bright, pale white, it only added to the discomfort of the bulky man. He was in a bowing, subservient pose standing in front of a similarly white desk, addressing the figure at the other side with a decorous, polite tone.

He was wearing a black, short-sleeved t-shirt that was stretched thin on his bulging chest. Protruding, swollen veins ran across his perfectly worked biceps, all the way towards his elbow. It was clearly visible that the man had no ounce of fat on his perfectly sculpted body. He had no weapon on him, still, it was a mistake to think he was unarmed.

No. There was this strange, unexplainable air about him… something unnatural surrounded his figure, keeping him in its invisible embrace.

A dissatisfied groan could be heard behind the monitors, coming from the other side of the desk.

"What do you mean, you lost their traces? Scan for his signature! They couldn't have gone too far! I want my property back!" The Boss, Mr. Jacobson yelled out in anger hearing the report of his subordinate.

"What's your designation?"

"It is E1N045, Sir!" The bald soldier immediately raised his back, exclaiming his designation, or 'name' whilst throwing a salute.

"Okay, 45, you do know what happens if you fail to complete the assigned task, I presume?" Mr. Jacobson inquired further, with a hint of threat clear in his voice.

"Yes sir! I will be deemed faulty, and recycled, to be processed for the next batch!" The soldier exclaimed a response without a hint of worry or fear in his voice. Even though the picture about the potential future fate he painted was grim, he didn't fear it. He was no longer human, the moment he accepted the contract and took the serum, he was a soldier to his master, a modern toy, a product of the Boss.

"Good. Then tell me, did any of you find traces of that traitorous b*tch at the very least?"

"After leaving the lab, she took off towards the City, Sir! We followed her traces for a while, but lost sight of her after she entered a hostel."

"I see. Did you send out someone to go after her and confirm her position?" The boss man asked, rubbing his stump beard, deep in thought. The betrayal and escape of her trusted aide, Dr. Frida was a huge blow to their work. He could not understand what made her to suddenly pack up and leave with all her research.

Was it related to the boy? It was true that she seemed quite obsessed with him in recent months, but he never expected that it would reach this level. There were several other usable test subjects in the facility after all. Although the data they got from the boy was the clearest, and his samples were what helped them in producing the Serum… but still, they could have continued with the others currently in Holding…

Thinking about that girl, only made Mr. Jacobson furrow his brows. Raising his attention, he came back to reality, looking at the Enhanced Soldier reporting to him once again.

"So? Answer the question!"

"Sir!" The bald soldier nodded, repeating his words he just said a moment ago without hesitation. "E1N015 and E1N006 have been sent out. They should reach the hostel in a few hours! We will know more once they arrive!"

Reaching for his troubled forehead, Mr. Jacobson rubbed trying to ease the chaotic mess of troubling thoughts that clouded his mind. He waved with his other, free hand dismissively.

"Okay, you can leave 45. Resume your search for the boy and for that blonde mutant. I want both of them captured in a week." He waved with his hands towards the door. "Leave now, I need to think."

As the bald soldier left, and the door closed behind him, Mr. Jacobson heaved a pained sigh. He reached for a cane at the side, using it to stand up and walk away from the desk. His steps were wobbly, he seemed to be dragging his left leg, looking much worse than how he looked in their last meeting with the boy and his mysterious guardian angel...

"I will tear that blonde mutant to pieces when I get my hands on her!" He exclaimed in anger as he slowly wobbled towards the door…