Sum Zero - [Modern/Supernatural] (PG-13)

The thick of steel stung, now bathing in red. A harrowing scream echoed off the metallic walls, the man's eye wide and beaming. He only stopped to catch his breath which was now labored and heavy. As second surge of pain struck him as he felt the roots of his hair yanked, his head was pulled upwards facing her. A beautiful, innocent face of pale skin and azure eyes stared into his, however something was different. Those blue eyes were empty. A swipe of her hand swiped the mahogany strands of hair out of her vision, she turned to a tall shrouded man expressionless, "Do the other, then ask again."

The shadowy man without hesitation retracted the knife from victim’s right thigh with a jolt releasing another yelp. He brushed the knife against the ribbed metal wall before hammering the blade into the right leg. The screams were getting weaker due to the exhaustion of the victim. The shady man firmly grasped his hand around his opposite’s jaw, "Understand, you are causing quite the inconvenience to Ms. Sinclair here," he pressured his grip, "You will leave this shipping container, as to whether it is in a body bag or with a beating heart remains to be seen. Where is March?"

The man was cringing in pain, gritting his teeth, "I'm telling the truth! I don't know any guy named M-" he was interrupted by a fist crossing his cheek, blood dripped him his mouth.

Ms. Sinclair spoke arms crossed across her chest, "Your account's payments were traced back to a known dummy cooperation for the broker in Panama and you expect us to believe your hit on Senator Orbán to be, freedom fighting?"

The man hesitated at her words, his breathing intense, “I have no idea, what you’re talking about?”

"You were crossed. You think that strike team arrived so fast just... because? You were supposed to fail and be locked away forever. Your scare tactic made the man look like a hero, this only ended well if you screwed it up.” The girl stared at him with indifference, no, disappointment.

"I don’t know... any," he paused looking to his right then back, "Look, I don't anything he communicated using notes and drop points, that's all, I swear."

A large sigh escaped the girl, "Useless, Richard kill him," she spoke as she turned towards the bolt door.

"Ma'am," a quick confirmation and the shady man withdrew a pistol from his jacket and pressed it into his forehead.

The man panicked, squirming around his ties and shifting his weight, "I don't know an- Marcus! Marcus introduced me, i-in..." he was hyperventilating, "In Brescia! Marcus in Brescia! Please, don't kill me! Don't shoot me!"

Richard pressured the trigger, "Bang," a hard breathe took the man as he prepared then click. A long silence felt in the shipping container, until a mild chuckle escaped Richard. "Good luck," he moved to the door and prepared to lock it.

"I told you everything, you said I'd leave the container alive!" his burst of movement sent him sideways tipping over the chair and falling on his face.

Only a smile wore on the shady man's face, "You will. Those stab wounds didn't hit any arteries so you won't bleed out. You'll be hitching a ride on a local cargo ship, when they find out they have an extra box I'm sure they'll find you. The route says it's only to Barcelona; you can survive a day or two without food and water. Good luck with talking police when you get there; we left your identity and evidence in a bag over in the corner. "

The man yelled in a mix of pain and anger, "That's not human!"

Richard only looked away for a moment then looked in thought, "We're not. Chao!" before he bolted the box's door tight and locking it.

Sinclair was already on the phone as Richard gave quick thumbs up to a crane operator sitting in port. His hand slipped back into his jacket retracting the pistol. He gave it an inspective stare before shifting his body into throwing it into the harbor. “I always hated guns,” he whispered to himself before Ms. Sinclair’s voice was heard behind him.

“What of the mark? …I understand but- Clearly, h-“

Richard poked his head uncomfortably close to her head and the phone, “Is that Cecil?”

The girl looked agitated, giving him a sour expression, “I’m sorry, Commander,” emphasizing the last word as for Richard to distinguish it. “As for our connection?” she returned.

Richard enjoyed provoking her, “Where is he?”

“Dead?” she asked.

“Cecil!?” he countered shocked.

“No, Marcus.” She gave a look of unbelief to his attitude, “Very well, we’ll turn to the states as soon as possible.”

The girl pressed along the screen ending the call and proceeded to move away. Richard followed, “Hold up, what’s that for?”

Sinclair didn’t stop and kept walking, “What are you referring?”

A chuckle came and he ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, I always get stuck with the weird one’s. Alright, I played along so far and you haven’t disappointed but why are you here?”

“I don’t understand the question, our job was find and interrogate the terrorist of the attack on Senator Orbán, we did it, and now we return for our next one.” She responded coldly and quickly.

Richard could only smile at the youth of the girl being so professional; it was almost scary to him, “You can’t be older than 16 and you’re out with an old man like me as an operative. What’s your backstory? Shouldn’t you be learning algebra and making crushes at a lunch table?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant. Age has never affected who can or can’t do the things we do. Why the jobs that correspond should be assigned any different seems illogical.” She once again swiped loose hairs back behind her ears still sounding cold.
Richard took a deep sigh, “Illogical? Fantastic my partner is freaking teenager robot,” he managed to retrieve his phone from his jacket pocket fiddling with the buttons and screen to relax himself. To only have him interrupted by a rude bump; turns out Sinclair had stuck out her arm to stop him as a rustic fork lift took right of way between the towers of metal containers, “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered embarrassed.

A shock hit Richard, feeling something like the sudden come-on of a migraine. The girl turned to check on her partner, who was wincing in pain, “What?”

“Hang on,” he said professionally, “I see…,” his eyes scanned in every direction seeming possessed, “One?”

“There’s just one? Are you sure? I’m insulted,” the girl ran to the adjacent freight and poked her head around the corner on alert.

“Wait,” he ordered. Richard was focusing intensely, “It’s harder for me to locate humans, he’s got,” Richard thought then raised his entire hand all fingers spread, “Five, there are five total but only one of us.”

“What did you do,” the girl scolded giving a harsh glare.

Richard reached for a knife in an ankle holder, “Me? You assume I screwed the pooch on this? Maybe a little Ms. Perfect may have left a trail,” he hinted sarcastically, “stay.”

Richard held his weapon ready before sprinting across the clearing into the next series of colossal stacking. Richard felt a cold sweat, it was not his first choice to engage 5 men, and his ability wasn’t so effective that that seemed like a good idea. “Why couldn’t I have someone to back me up in this situation,” Richard ducked to the next container checking the rows.

“Oh, don’t involve the girl in any combat,” he mocked at his superior’s orders.

He began to focus again attempting to locate, “Absolutely , send the guy who doesn’t use firearms and a pubescent girl to clash with the forces of who-knows-what, sounds brilliant,” his sarcasm was even beginning to annoy himself.

The sound of heavy boots rang on the concrete and even the rattling of clanging metal of their weapons was heard; they were close. He tensed his grip on the blade, they were heading towards Sinclair. “Traced the phone call?” he accidently said out loud.

“Of course,” said a rather unwelcome voice from Richard’s right.

He followed seeing only a fist closing in. A reactionary drop placed him just below the strike. The man was large, no, huge; Richard was in shock being caught by surprise. Move, he told himself as he rolled away from the burly figure. Rising, it seemed he wasn’t in imminent danger as he watched him. Investigation instincts kicked in; 6 and a half feet, East European but perhaps a quarter German, a sleeveless shirt revealed a Heer logo that coupled with the shaved bald head, obviously former German army, age near 30. The brute intervened, “Are you going to stand there looking stupid or give me some entertainment before you die?”

Richard smiled, calmed, and began to circle the soldier, “You learn that English from the Brits or Americans when you were working the Caspian?”

The soldier reached for a set of brass knuckles from his pocket polishing them with his shirt, “Smartass, any schoolboy could tell I was in military.”

“So?”

“Americans,” The man charged forward lurching at surprising speed.

His movements seemed more like a rhino than a human, however years of experience made Richard unusually swift making the blind tackle an easy dodge. However, the soldier wasn’t stupid and pulled a quick follow-up putting his weight into another punch that missed, smashing into the logo of some Chinese company on the freight leaving a crater. A fake laugh of fear escaped Richard as he discovered how much power the man carried.

Thoughts raced, end it fast, Richard dove under his next swing and brought his blade in an uppercut aiming for his pulmonary artery. “Too slow,” Richard muttered as his blade made contact.

A silence enveloped the scenario as Richard held still mortified, the tip of his knife was just above his flesh. He pressed harder, the steel didn’t budge. The soldier began to chuckle before bursting into a full-on laugh. He grasped Richard’s wrist tightly, effortlessly tossing him aside. The soldier double-checked the area aimed, not a cut, wound, or scratch, “I don’t have to be fast, you’re gonna need something a lot bigger than that to hurt me.”

Richard regrouped himself and stood, he was panicked to find out what exactly happened before the soldier spoke, “Scary isn’t it? Having skin as hard as diamonds has always come in handy in my line of work, but as you can imagine, I don’t let anyone live to blab that.”

“Diamond skin?” Richard grit his teeth prepared to dodge another attack.

“You’ve been fun, but I’m done with you,” and the soldier prepared to attack again.

…do not run… falter not f- or ye that does not fear… embraces death-…

“Resonance…” Richard muttered. The hulk charged twice as fast as before, with serious intent to end the fight. A battle cry was called by the soldier as he smashed his fist towards his target. He was stopped. Tight sensation choked the German around the neck, forced a cough. The soldier glared down to Richard who’s eyes were gleaming crimson, “W-what ar- you doi-,” another choke.

Richard tightened, crushing his supposed immortal shell. The soldier in desperation to free himself swung his right fist to hit. His fist was a foot from Richard when an invisible gust sliced off the hand from the remainder of his arm. A scream from the soldier must have echoed through the containers. Richard noticed this, “Damn,” a second attempt of the mercenary’s heart was a success dropping him to the cement, “D-Trash.”

The gem red coloring in his pupils died down and Richard checked the pulse of the man. Suddenly, a revelation hit him, “Sinclair!?”
He had left her alone to prevent her from fighting but he had only been preoccupied with one as the others were heading towards her. The surprise of the Germen had kept his mind from remembering. “Stay alive!” Richard cried as he sprinted back to the spot of their separation.

The labyrinth of freight and equipment seemed to make everyplace seem the same as he searched for the clearing he had left her in. He had begun to give up, thinking he was running in circles. The cell phone, he thought. In a single movement he removed his device and called his partner’s number. The amount of time it took to the rings seemed like an eternity. Then…

De de de, de de de. No answer.

De de de, de de de. No answer.

De de de, de de de. The sound of the ringing was heard off in the distance.

“No,” Richard mumbled.

He kept his phone at hand, and ran in the direction of the tone. Slowly and slowly, it became louder. Richard’s mind raced with panic and scenarios. I’m so sorry, he thought. Time seemed to draw out like a blade, each moment just inching past the next, until finally the clearing came into view. Richard fell to his knees, covering his mouth to prevent himself from vomiting. The clearing was painted red, indistinguishable piece of organic waste littering among the art. The main corpses laid bare and mutilated scattered over the area. Until at least he saw them, empty blue eyes.