Chapter 33: Band of Killers

Chapter 33: Band of Killers

The Marriott was as fancy and grand as James had imagined. Its main tower soared up into the cloudy sky, pale gray stone with hundreds of blue windows embedded seamlessly in its face. The front was snarled with official cars of all stripes, including a hummer and limousine. James guessed they werent the only ones to have noted its helpful proximity to the NYCEM.

Jessica was in her element and guided them through the bustling crowd and into the lobby. It was exactly the kind of place that had been off-limits to him for most of the past decade, everything gleaming, sophisticated, clean, expensive. Despite everything, despite the events of the past week, James found himself hunching his shoulders and waiting for a faux-friendly tap on his elbow as a security guard accosted him.

Jessica retrieved a duffel bag from the front desk and strode back to them both. Clean clothing. Take a moment to freshen up, and then Ill take you to the ballroom. She checked her watch. We have ten minutes.

James washed his face in the echoing restroom, the wall mirror revealing him in all his shabby, worn glory. Shucking the torn and ichor splattered clothing, he used a wad of paper towels to wash behind the neck and under his arms, then pulled on more Bass Pro gear.

Jessica had a good eye for this kind of stuff. Despite himself he looked pretty sharp in the mirror. He raked his fingers through his beard and imagined standing before a thousand new DRC members.

A fucking thousand.

His shoulders slumped. He wasnt an inspiring leader-type. Hed be what? Just a guy helping organize this shit. Hed not put on airs, think himself important. Hed been around the block too many times to think otherwise.

Emerging from the bathroom he saw Serenity had donned a black Adidas tracksuit with white racing stripes down the arms and legs. She was scowling, but couldnt quite hide how pleased she was, and how well the tracksuit fit her newly athletic frame; shed pulled her hair back into a ponytail and was chewing a stick of gum, her eyes narrowed as she studied James in turn.

Look at you, boy. If this whole DRC thing falls through, you could try booking some hobo-chic fashion shoots.

You should talk, track star. He chuckled and realized Jessica was all but tapping her foot. Ready.

This way. Jessica strode down a large hallway, past a bank of elevators, then down another hall to a massive set of double doors. A young man in a suit stood before it with a tablet, and his generic smile came to life at the sight of Jessica.

Ms. Miles. Everybodys inside.

Mark, this is James and Serenity. Marks one of the DRCs latest assistants, used to work out of Budgeting but he was wasted there.

Mark, said James.

Sir. Mark blushed. Its an honor to meet you.

James had no idea how to respond to that, so he just stayed quiet.

Jessica cracked open one of the doors and he followed her inside. The ballroom was indeed massive, the coffered ceiling high above with huge chandeliers made of a thousand crystal rods each, while everything else followed the color scheme of a Tiramisu cake. Endless rows of chairs had been set out in a semicircle around a stage, and for the first time James saw the DRC recruits.

They were as varied as any crowd of New Yorkers. He saw a Hasidic Jew with a massive black felt hat, scrawny homeless types, guys in suits, teenagers, hard-faced older guys, women in athletic gear, a crew of beefy firemen in their navy shirts, a few elderly men and women, and on and on. Every ethnicity, every age, every economic class.

The one thing they all had in common, however, was their weaponry. Whether it was a baseball bat, a cane, a shovel, a rifle, pistols, shotguns, or even swords, theyd all brought their weapons of destruction with them.

Standing on the stage was a balding guy in his late twenties, his eyebrows bright red, his face freckled, his manner energized, engaging.

The rest hed have to earn.

Hello. Thank you for coming. My name is James Kelly, and Im a Supplicant Level 2. A week ago I was living on the streets, just trying to get by. Then a gremlin tried to tear out my throat -

Demon, Serenity called from the stages side.

A demon tried to tear out my throat, and, well, now here I am. You all know what Ive been through. Youve been through it yourself. I guess what we all have in common is a refusal to stand back and do nothing. It doesnt matter who you were, what you did, if you were an upstanding member of society or sleeping on park benches like me. When the moment of truth came, you found it within yourself to kill the enemy, and then keep on killing.

Nods. Some people crossed their arms, leaned back, others sat forward, interest avid.

Now youre here. Wondering what Ive got to say to you. If Im actually a government tool. If youre wasting your time when you could be out there leveling, gaining power, getting ready for Nemesis 3. And Ill tell you this: to me? The Department of Ranking Citizens is a means to an end. A bigger bat. A way to take out more demons, faster, more safely, and nothing more. Were lucky to have good people putting this together, helping this moment happen, but at its core, the reason were all here is because weve found out were good at killing demons and we want to find out ways to do it better.

More nods.

Im no leader. Any one of you could be up here saying this shit. But whatever, Im here now, so lets run with it. The armys going to attack one of those demon symbol blocks in a couple of hours. Were talking Black Hawk helicopters, special ops, miniguns, Rangers, the works. They dont think were worth listening too, so were going to do the same thing, but were going to do it better. The Nemesis 2s are doing some heinous shit in those blocks beneath the symbols, and were going to work together to put a stop to it.

A heavyset guy with a shaved head raised his hand. What the fuck they doin in there, anyways?

We dont know for sure. What weve seen with our own eyes is that theyre taking live people and consuming them, then shitting their bodies out as pink goo with which theyre covering the buildings. We dont know why, but we want to find out if those people are still mentally there and capable of being saved.

A good chunk of the crowd hadnt heard this, and reacted with faces curdled in disgust, some shouting their horror and anger, others rising to their feet before settling again.

I know how you feel. Jamess voice was heavy with resignation. Its how Ive been feeling since we saw it. And its the reason Im willing to stand up here like an idiot and talk like some politician. But what it all comes down to is that the thousand or so people in this room are going to do something about it. The demons think theyre killers? James slowly scanned the crowd. Theyre in for a rude awakening. If our species has proven one thing over the past hundred thousand years its that the one thing we do best is kill things that dont look like us, and sometimes were not even that discriminating. Killing shit is in our blood. Its in our genetic code. And now were going to rise up and show them why they made the wrong move the day they decided to walk into our town and start slaughtering innocents. Were going to head over to that symbol and destroy every Nemesis 2 that we see. Were going to scour that place clean, and then move on to the next symbol, then the next, and were not going to stop till every last demon is dead and this city, this country, this world is ours once more.

James inhaled deeply, pursed his lips, and stared intently at the thousand killers before him. You all with me?

Hoarse shouts of agreement tore themselves from hundreds of throats, and while not everybody seemed as enthused, James knew hed gotten through to a critical mass.

The DRC was up and running.

Bear with me, he said, then dug out his phone and raised it up. Thumbed his way to TikTok, angled the phone just right so that his face and the huge crowd behind him was in focus, and hit record.

Short message here from me, James Kelly. Im standing with a thousand other men and women who have committed to wiping out a nest of Nemesis 2s. Everybody here is at least Level 5, and by the time were done, by the time the sun sets, were all going to be that much stronger. And then were going to find another nest, and another, and keep killing those fuckers till the next wave hits, and then? Well burn Aeviternum and kill those fuckers, too. If this resonates with you, wherever you are, then do this: find other people to stand with. Join forces. Start your own group, your own war band, and start killing. Individually we may be fierce, but together were unstoppable.

He paused.

The hundreds of faces visible on the screen shone with grim determination.

Now if you all will excuse me, its time to get to work.

And he quit recording.