Chrono Inquisitor (Gods Be Damned) (12 page)

“Damn, you were right.”

“And still I say, just wait. Kali, how much longer until the sun has completely set?”

‹The official time for sunset occurred 14 minutes and 22 seconds ago.›

“Perfect.”

Even though my scythe gauntlets had been destroyed with the pip, I still had the standard Inquisitor gloves which were just as good, even if they lacked the fear factor. I looked through my drawer at all my choices. I had a dozen pair in various colors and styles to choose from, but altogether there were close to a hundred combinations to consider when you included all the different drugs that one could employ. There was;
Morsizine, Erisizine, Apatizine, Oizysizine, Momosizine, Gerasix, Nemesisizne, and finally Keresizine. I opted for a simple black pair with Gerasix loaded in the right hand, and Keresizine in the left.

‹We have arrived at Hyde’s Ice Creamery & Sweets.›

“Perfect. Kali, reaper the pad.”

The exterior of the pad changed to black with a giant white scythe in the middle on each side.

“Kali, ready the fireworks and fog.”

Paxton nodded his head and began to sort of bounce up and down with excitement. “This is going to be awesome.”

“You’re staying here.”

‹The fireworks and fog are ready, sir.›

“But then why’d you give me the gun?”

“In case shit happens, in the future, and so you won’t have to borrow mine and leave me weaponless.”

“Okay,” Paxton said, and then there was a slight pause as I saw’s the man’s mind working on something clever. “Well in a couple of minutes it’ll be the future. So, you want me to come in then as your backup?”

He sure is a persistent smartass.

“You’re not coming with me, and that’s final.”

“But what if you need me?”

“Then I’m in trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s my point.”

“This is how it’s going to work. We’ll swap C-links. If I run into trouble, I’ll call, and then you can come in gun blazing and get yourself killed. Hopefully I’ll be dead before you make it inside.”

“Fine.”

I nodded.

“Kali, light this hell hole up.”

In over the top theatric style, my pad lit up the surrounding area like it was the 8th of August. Cock-a-doodle-doos, phoenix firebombs, holy gunsmokes, and Mt. St. Helens shattered the silence of the street like it was the end of days. Smoke and ash descended like it was Frosty’s what-the-fuck is happening winter wonderland.

What people there were on the street, hooted and hollered in pleasure at first, but it quickly morphed into fear. When the door to the pad opened, and I in the guise of death, descended down into the dark disturbance, eyes of the mask glowing red, people panicked and ran from the reaper.

‹“Kali, override the security systems using my credentials and patch me in to every speaker within the building.”›

‹Done.›

I flipped the SuperNova around, pointed it at the store, and took a moment to take in the sign outside, which read Hyde’s Ice Creamery & Sweets in glowing cursive letters. I looked through the storefront windows which showed display cases overflowing with all sorts of sugar infused sweets inside. An old fashioned ice cream parlor off to the side looked very similar to the interior of Francine’s with the checkerboard floor and red swivel stools in front of a counter.

Have some fucking originality.

‹Warning. What you intend to do is beyond your legal authority. If you proceed I’ll be required to notify local law enforcement, and file a report with the Inquisitors office.›

I pulled the trigger.

The glass door and windows melted in to a pool. I stepped over it and into Hyde’s.

‹Notifying the authorities.›

Good. It just means I won’t have to ask her to when I’m done with this prick.

I looked at the counters and cases of ice cream, frozen yogurt, cookies, brownies, cakes, and all the other various sugar rich treats with their decadent toppings. Nothing I saw appealed to my wants and desires. At the moment, all I craved was blood and destruction.

“Kali, begin transmitting Chords of Discontent’s ‘Death Comes Knocking.”

‹Transmitting.›

The sounds of a keyboard playing a fun little diddy grew louder and louder, echoing throughout the enclosure. Ten seconds later drums and screaming electric guitar joined the fray.

Like everything else pertaining to the title reaper, I had originally hated the song when the others had played it when presenting me with the Chrono Inquisitor of the year award for the North American division, years ago.

Listening to it now, I imagined myself as a wrestler from the old days coming to the stage. Unaware that I was doing it, my head nodded, bobbed, and rocked back and forth to the beat. Thirty seconds into the song, the overly synthed, otherworldly voice of a man began to sing.

♪The sun sets, sets, sets. It’s the end of the day. You placed your bets, bets, bets. Now it’s time to pay. Going to collect those debts, debts, debts. The reaper’s on his way.♪

I fired several rounds at the display cases. The glass and metal melted, the frozen dairy products vaporized, and the sugar briefly caramelized before scorching, sending a sickly sweet charred aroma into the air that had it not been for the filtration system of my death mask, I would have gagged. I was also glad that my robes were blocking out the heat.

‹“Kali, when I speak, lower the volume of the song and broadcast my voice over it. Keep the song on a loop until I tell you to stop, or until I’m face to face with Mr. Van Horne.”›

‹As you wish.›

I waited for the chorus to finish playing before I spoke.

♪When death comes knocking, he will be rocking, to the BOOM…BOOM…BOOM. Explosions in your room. Breaking ground on your tomb. There’s nothing you can do… but make peace with your maker. Here comes the Grim reaper.♪

“This is Chrono Inquisitor Yan. Dispose of any weapons from your immediate possession now. Compliance is essential for your continued survival. Failure to comply will result in confronting your beliefs without earthly resurrection. I am armed and making my way to your location in the storage room. Stay where you are.”

I reached the door to the storage room and debated whether it would be better to shoot the door down and make an explosive forceful entrance, or to discharge a couple of smoke screens, open the door and enter ominously. I decided on the latter, concluding that if I entered with force, those on the other side would probably respond similarly. Even though I wanted to reestablish a sense of fear of the reaper, I didn’t want to end up getting shot if I could avoid it.

Erring on the side of caution, I brought up the schematics of the building and found another entrance to the room located in the back. I decided I’d set up a distraction at this entrance and then enter through the rear.

My song was still playing in the background. It’d reached the nursery rhyme portion. The children’s voices added a creepy undertone to the whole thing.

♪Run, run, fast as you can. Death is coming, always gets his man. Oh, no, you’re too slow. Death is here, at your door.♪

I mounted a small camera that would allow me to see inside the room once the door was open, placed two smokestacks by the door along with a vapormaker, attached an automatic door opener, and then set a projector on the ground. Hopefully the smoke wouldn’t overpower the vapor and distort the projection. I really hoped that instead it would enhance the image, making me seem more spectral.

Everything placed and ready to go, I made my way to the other door around back.

Just as I reached the door I felt something weird, like a migraine coming on. My vision blurred for a second, but then went back to normal as if nothing had happened. The migraine itself disappeared.

‹“Kali, am I all right?”›

‹You experienced a temporary after effect of the baptism. I have taken care of it. You’ll be fine. Though I do suggest you cease with your plans to confront Mr. Van Horne and instead make your way to Texas.›

‹“Ain’t
gonna happen, darling.”›

I set everything off.

Through one aɪ lens in the mask I watched as the recording of myself walked through the door with smoke encompassing me. Through the normal lens I watched as my actual hand opened the door before me. Through both I could see three figures standing behind a man in a chair. It was a little hard to see through the smoke and the image of myself, but I could tell that everyone was focused on the false me.

The room was quite large and well decorated. It reminded me of Frank and Henry’s lounge on their yacht. In the corner closest to me was a giant desk. On the other side was a decent sized bar. Several leather couches surrounded a table in the center of the room, and off to the side were two pool tables. In the furthest corner was a door which had a sign above it saying, ‘Virtual Viewing Lounge.’

In my mind I thought the words and Kali played them through the speaker of the projector. ‹“I am Inquisitor Yan, put your hands in the air where I can see them.”›

I watched from in front and behind as the three standing men raised their arms, palms out. I now saw that the man in the chair was restrained which was why he didn’t comply.

“Welcome, Inquisitor,” said a slick, southern accented, charismatic male voice. “Please do come in and make yerself comfortable.”

Make myself comfortable? What the fuck? He should be pissing myself.

‹I have taken the liberty of scanning the Chronos of the men. The one who just spoke is Mr. Van Horne. The two to his sides are: Gregory ‘Ghengis Kahn’ Hawthorn, and Conrad Jacobin, whom you’ve already met. The man confined in the chair is Walter ‘Longshot’ Lachlan.›

Looks like Paxton wasn’t lying about that shithead lawyer. But why does Van Horne have his assassin tied up?

‹I do not know, sir. Maybe you should ask.›

Maybe I will, I thought sarcastically

I approached the men from behind and did a weapons scan. According to the scan, all the men were unarmed except Hawthorn, who still had a knife in his possession. All the projectile weapons had been placed on a nearby table just far enough out of reach to not be an immediate threat. Still, I had my Glock in one hand and my scythe at the ready in the other.

I had Kali stop the feed from the camera to my
aɪ,
and watched solely through the mask as the projection of myself came forward towards the men and me. I seemed to float on the smoke and truly appeared as an apparition of death. It was a great effect that looked even better than I had thought it would.

Too bad it didn’t scare them shitless.

With my objective of inducing fear not working, I figured I needed to take a different route.

“Hello, gentlemen,” I said, using the mask’s amplification of my voice, instead of the speaker system.

Jacobin jumped at the sound of my voice behind them. Van Horne on the other hand, simply turned. Hawthorn though, he went for the weapons on the table.

I shot the man without hesitation. It was only in the leg though. I wanted the guy to suffer.

Van Horne didn’t flinch or even turn to see his man fall, but Jacobin did, and watched his comrade fall in a flurry of curses.

‹Warning. You do not have justification to harm Mr. Van Horne.›

‹“For now, maybe, but sooner or later he’ll slip, and then I’m going to fuck him up.”›

“I gave y’all a proper warning,” I said, trying out my voice with a southern gentleman affectation.

Jacobin started to say something, but Van Horne silenced the man with a simple raise of his hand.

Van Horne was the epitome of cliché, with his shiny, black and white, wing tipped shoes, spotless white tux, villainous mustache and goatee. And of course, the look was completed with a black banded white straw hat perched atop his dark, slicked back hair.

Van Horne then nodded and said, “Indeed ya did. And he deserves exactly what he got fer being so foolish and disabeying yer instructions. Just goes to show how hard it is to get good help these days. I’m Derrik Van Horne, the owner of this fine establishment.” He finished it with a smile, tip of his hat, and an extended hand.

‘Old Man’
Olham may have had the voice of an angel, but Van Horne, he had the voice of a male Siren. Hell, if the real Grim had such a voice and presence, souls would be lining up willingly to follow him into the afterlife.

I holstered the Glock within my robes, and extended my hand as well, but I didn’t grasp Van Horne’s hand.

“I know who you are Van Horne. Or do you prefer to go by Satan?”

Van Horne smiled and looked at my gloved hand. He only hesitated for a noticeable second before he took it in a firm handshake. “Please, call me
Derrik.”

I really, really, wanted to extend the needles and give this prick a dose of his own medicine, but for some reason that escaped me, I didn’t, and released my grip on his hand.

“All right, Derrik,” I said, slowly removing my gloves as I continued to speak. “It seems we have a current conflict of interest. As I’m sure you’re aware, this morning I requisitioned Mr. Thrass. Shortly afterwards, several of your associates foolishly attacked us.”

Van Horne shook his head with a disappointed look. “Please accept my humble apologies. I was clueless about what transpired earlier today until just a couple hours ago.” Van Horne motioned me over to one of the leather couches. “Why don’t we get more comfortable while we work this out. Can I get you a drink, cigar maybe?”

“Aren’t you going to see to your man?”

Hawthorn was sitting with his back against the desk while trying to stop the bleeding.

“Ah, yes. Mr. Jacobin, would you escort Mr. Hawthorn to the Peach Pit and have him taken care of. Use the Nobility entrance and ask for Ms. Prickett. She knows how to keep things discreet. Also, notify Captain Reinhardt that he need not disturb us with a visit by his men.”

“Yes, sir,” Jacobin said. He shot me a ‘ha, ha, fuck you’ smile, and then went to help Hawthorn.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I should’ve known she was too good to be true. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy killing these pricks. Thinking they can play me like that.