Dread

Aries was an infinite horizon of supreme technological eye candy; towering skyscrapers covered in holographic advertisements of top-selling products and brands were riddled across the bustling districts of the city. Spanning across twelve uniquely designed districts, the most prominent and popular of them all was the Taurus District. As the cornerstone and birthplace of Aries's wealth and economy, the Taurus District bolstered supporting fashion, technology, and e-commerce systems across the continent.

The majority of people from the Taurus District were wealthy fanatics who were the complete opposite of frugal; they spent their riches day and night decking out their fashion with extravagant and excessive colors and styles while gambling in underground casinos. Most people were dressed in bright, rich colors with stylishly ragged hairstyles to make them stand out; yet with more people imitating each other's style and life choices, the more it struck as a commonality to the public. The urge to stand out among other civilians had lost its definition over time, with copycat ill-tempered individuals becoming part of the cycle.

The birth of wealth from Taurus came from myriads of special goods and services to help civilians. Most of their inventions and services were backed by multi-million companies, with the most influential and economically advanced being Polycyclone Industries.

Polycyclone was a peculiar company, in that it rarely sold any particular inventive goods that changed people's lifestyles; the convenience of all citizens was a primary marketing strategy slogan to convince them to stay. The company's goals were to market other inventions and goods to mass-produce them for everyone on a global market. Their wealthy success traced back years ago, where rumors of them partaking in illegal and illicit activity were widely known among the people.

More rumors of Polycyclone Industries spread, where they would extort their clients' inventions to steal the ownership of their goods and services. Several clients and citizens retaliated back with lawsuits and death threats, but their sizable efforts were forlorn due to the industry's capabilities. However, ever since the CEO of Polycyclone Industries retired a month prior from these rumors for safety purposes, everything about the company's marketing and supply chains was in a state of flux. Without a leadership role to take over, Polycyclone's significance in mass production and commerce were plunging dramatically and immutably.

In a last-ditch effort to regain control of the company, Polycyclone's capricious decision was to begin taxing and requesting money from Taurus civilians to secure a hold of their financial downpour. Ongoing riots and protests organized by humans continue to break out in Taurus, leaving the area as the most hostile area out of all twelve districts to settle in. Violent looting situations in second-hand stores were made as an effort to send a message. Advertisement signs and neon-lit lights spanning across the city were vandalized and destroyed. Humans were treacherous in their decisions, causing the mass destruction of the Taurus District.

However, amid a star-riddled evening in the Taurus District, one unknown individual had massive plans for the future of Polycyclone Industries after revealing he would donate thirty billion dollars to support the company. As the full moon reflected and graced upon the crystal-clear oceans next to Polycyclone's headquarters with its holy light, several bodyguards and company traders situated themselves outside of the headquarters entrance waiting for the arrival of their savior. These suit-wearing bodyguards were highly skilled in close-quarters combat and were meant to protect rioters and looters from entering Polycyclone's headquarters. Yet many of them were filled to the brim with arrogance and disdain from their training, finding themselves superior above all civilians.

A spiky-haired bodyguard rotated his left arm to check his smartwatch, clicking his tongue in impatience when their designated meeting time surpassed itself. "Goddamn it. Where the hell is Vang? He was supposed to show up with the client a half-hour ago. He sure loves wasting our fucking time."

"Thirty billion dollars," Another rowdy suit-wearing bodyguard chuckled at the client's request. "Am I the only one who doubts that? Feels like our man chickened out trying to surprise us with that money. Never thought he'd be that kind of person."

"Any word from Vang? He was supposed to message us when he picked up the client."

"No, nothing just yet..."

A jet-black minivan's frontal headlines flashed against the entrance of Polycyclone's headquarters, catching the attention of the distraught and confused bodyguards. An ivory-white and golden trimmed elongated limousine followed its wake, trailing behind slowly. The spiky-haired bodyguard double tapped his smartwatch and approached the figure-eight styled road it drove on, searching for any incoming messages from his comrade Vang.

"Is that him?" The bodyguard asked with an ingenuous expression. "He never said he was gonna bring any kind of backup. Must be the client's backup, but that wasn't part of the deal."

"Yeah, let's see what this is all about..."

The white limousine parked behind a silver water-spewing fountain a few feet away from the main entrance. The minivan parked passenger side forward in front of the headquarters with the bewildered bodyguards approaching it at a snail's pace. The vehicle's engine and frontal headlights powered off, leaving the area in pure silence. They had been waiting for the minivan's dark tinted windows to roll down, as none of the passengers could be perceived in the dead of the night.

Seconds later, the passenger seat opened, revealing a slender suit-wearing man's lifeless body crumbling to the bricked sidewalk. It was Vang. His suit's dense and malleable fabric was torn open with a deep wound injected into his heart. Dark scarlet blood spewed from his wound like a broken fountain, and his jaws were ripped wide open from the side revealing the muscle fibers keeping his skin intact from within. Large tufts of Vang's hair were ripped off to show muscular slabs of his scalp hanging by his temples. Vang's eyes were rolled back, veiny, and pure white as a product of his agonizing death. His humerus and radius arm bones were openly fractured, piercing his elbows as if some benevolent force yanked it down without remorse. His mangled and bruised knuckles indicated that he had been in a tight scuffle, but from his tortured state, none of the bodyguards knew of the unknown trouble he had stepped into.

"Holy fuck, fuck!" The spiky-haired bodyguard's cowardice controlled his emotions, prompting him to draw his silver pistol. His hands shook and fumbled while his comrades did the same, wishing they could bolt out in despair. "What's going on?"

"Who's there? Who's driving? Can you see anything?" Another insufferable bodyguard whimpered behind him with his hands quivering.

The spiky-haired guard stumbled forward, shivering at the bitterness of his reaction to Vang's corpse. A massive sticky blood puddle formed after Vang slumped down to the sidewalk, and its salty aroma struck absolute terror into his body and soul. His sedulous feet stumbled towards the darkened minivan with a flashlight pointing towards the passenger and driver's seat. No one was inside, but a flash of a moving figure stunned him.

"Open fire!" The spiky-haired guard commanded.

In one dramatic swoop, the minivan toppled over on the side Vang was situated upon, crushing his lifeless body. Guts and organs popped out like balloons on a birthday party. The spiky-haired bodyguard stepped back and nearly tripped in terror. Without a single second to react or evade, the minivan launched itself towards the guard, slamming against him and another behind him to instantly kill and crush their lives. The wreckage produced a cloud of tear-jerking dust that obscured the vision of the other paranoid guards, forcing them to evade out of their way while unloading their bullets at the launch site. Their bullets had struck something metallic, but they were repelled and reflected without any effort.

A hollow, rhythmic modulated, and mechanical breathing sound sequence played after the guards had unloaded their bullets. Its leaden mechanical voice was filtered as if it was a failed respiratory unit in a hospital attempting to revive a deceased patient from death. As soon as the cloud of dust brushed away from the midnight's natural winds, a thin shrouded figure of an augmented humanoid robot, standing mighty and robust behind where the minivan was slugged. With its breathing still shocking the guards who quivered in fear, the robot took several steps forward. Its mechanized ligaments and joints built and altered on its legs squeaked with the sound of metal slamming onto one another.

The moon's prowling light shined against the machine, revealing its heavily augmented chassis and body structure. The death-calling savagery of the humanoid machine came into view. Faded white and onyx colored alloy made up a majority of its wired muscular structure. Its metallic and dense material appeared impenetrable and resilient enough to withstand even the most powerful blows of all.

Red surges of powered energy trimmed across its arms, shoulders, and legs, mimicking blood traveling across arteries and veins. Its cybernetic head was round and augmented to enhance its visionary capabilities and appeared as two rotating vermillion-glowing pools of eyes. It effortlessly stepped forward and breathed menacingly as a cybernetic mask attached itself to its face to shroud its eyes, like a robotic assassin.

"Who the fuck are you? Stay back!" The cowardly bodyguards cried.

One of the guards approached the assassin, attempting to slug his face in retaliation. In one swift movement, the machine evaded the blow, grabbed the man's arm, and snapped it off with great force. The man's bones jutted out at the extreme force of the blow, leaving him shrieking in absolute pain. As the assassin began approaching the stairs fearlessly, many of the other guards desperately attempted to disarm and attack him. The assassin's hands formed a sharp edge, stabbing many of them in the heart while dodging their punches and swings. Cries and screams of pain and torment echoed through the entrance of the headquarters, with nothing but death approaching the main gate of Polycyclone Industries. As a twenty-story tall building, the assassin gazed up into the skyscraper to examine the best way to tackle its infiltration.

"Where is the meeting being held?" The assassin went straight to the point with its direct question. "Don't think this is as simple as it looks. If you were the one here, you would be gone. It'll be my pleasure if you make my job much easier for me."

"Fifteen." A voice echoed in its ear.

"Fine," The assassin quipped back as it approached the glass door. He watched as bodyguard reinforcements armed with rifles defended the first floor. "As soon as I'm done with them, you'll be next, sooner or later..." With a single jab through the glass, the assassin entered the skyscraper. Bullets unloaded onto his mechanical body, but its dense alloy material deflected all of them without a single dent in his skin. Utilizing a projectile arm launcher, the assassin locked onto all seven of the guards and launched seven homing bullets straight through their foreheads to murder them with ease. The assassin stepped through to the entrance of the elevator, crunching on broken glass underneath its heels.

With brute force and his bare hands, the assassin pried open the elevator's entrance. He gazed above and caught the elevator descending onto the first floor with more reinforcements. With one leap, the assassin clung onto the walls inside, transmogrifying into a four-legged spider-like atrocity with finger and foot grips to seize its position tightly. With its red eyes closed, the assassin entered a state of invisibility with a camouflaging ability, making its skin transparent and translucent. As the elevator touched down, the assassin poked its finger through the elevator, subsequently gaining the ability to phase through solid matter. With three bodyguards inside preparing their weapons for combat, the assassin snuck inside with them without being spotted.

"Our goal is to protect the meeting chamber and eliminate our target," A burly bodyguard reloaded an assault rifle, jamming its clip inside its compartment. "That thing already killed our traders. It's only a matter of time before - hey, wait, what's going-"

During his explanation, the guard's loaded assault rifle mysteriously floated in the air with its barrel pointed directly at his forehead. The two other bodyguards froze in absolute disbelief until the rifle opened fire. Brains gushed and splattered across the elevator walls while a stray bullet struck the lighting fixture above, causing the broken glass to shatter and fall below them.

"What the hell!?" One of the two bodyguards cried.

In the darkness, the assassin reappeared before their eyes, stabbing its hand through one of their throats with its sharpened metallic hands. Blood-curdling sounds of cries and choking came from the half-deceased man, crumbling to the floor with his hands attempting to blockade the blood gushing from his throat. Before the final bodyguard could fire back at him, the assassin snatched his rifle barrel and seized control of his head, bashing it against the elevator's walls repeatedly until death. The man's face was mutilated beyond recognition.

The assassin wiped its blood-riddled hands on one of the fallen guard's suits to clean it. Its anomalous skeleton-like hands rotated to cleanse itself of the scarlet-colored liquid. "Disgusting." It revoltingly muttered underneath its mask. It slammed against the fifteenth-floor button on the elevator. With the bodies crumbled against the sensors of the elevator, the assassin had to kick them out to get the elevator moving upwards.

"Drop the grenades!" The guards on the fifteenth floor hounded, hoping to stop the assassin's murderous rampage by destroying the elevator. Three frag grenades were tossed down below in the elevator shaft, entering the assassin's space. Upon impact, the elevator exploded and its structure collapsed into the dark depths.

Believing the assassin to be dead, the guards lowered their presence by backing off from the elevator. In reality, the assassin phased through the wall and clung onto the walls of the shaft with its four-legged transformation. It speedily crawled up maneuvering its machine-like exoskeleton, ascending to the fifteenth floor with no mercy. As it slipped through the opening of the floor, it snatched one of the unsuspecting bodyguards and used it as a bullet shield.

"Open fire!" A cry commanded every other guard to unload their bullets. The assassin covered its body with the meat shield before snatching a pistol holstered on his belt buckle. With extreme precision and accuracy, the assassin fired at their foreheads and murdered them all. Tossing his shield away, he approached a protective metallic gate and punctured through it with his fists.

On the opposing side, the executive board of Polycyclone Industries sheltered themselves underneath a widely massive conference table in their meeting chamber The eventual elected CEO of Polycyclone was a famous politician. He stood his ground, fearless to the bitter end regardless of his eventual death. Endless bashing on their protective door eventually broke through, but silence followed after. Each chairman of the company fearfully peeked up to check their surroundings.

The door burst open, shattering the protective casing surrounding it as the assassin hurled a mangled and deceased bodyguard through. The guard launched on their conference table with broken glass pierced through his skin. Two more bodyguards attempted to seize the assassin, but they were made quick work of with two instantaneous gunshots to the head. Every chair member sprawling on the floor whimpered in utter fear, anticipating their deaths. One of the young women shivering on all fours prayed to God to keep her safe, while another elderly man's heart could not take the bitter stress of death knocking on his door.

The eventually elected politician remained calm and collected as the assassin dramatically entered the room while lowering his cybernetic mask. His menacing red eyes met with the politician and he remained unpredictable. The politician's eyes quivered as sweat dripped down his forehead; his skin was clammy and bitter as he remained still like a scarecrow.

"P-please... don't kill us..." The young female board member cried, thinking about her family.

"I have a family. Please don't..." Another male board member begged.

"Heh," The assassin chuckled, approaching the conference table. With a deep and voluminous voice, it spoke with its flanged filtered voice. "Which one of you is the elect?"

"Me," The politician on the far side of the conference table spoke firmly. His hands gripped his royal chair's armrests tightly in confidence. "If you're here to kill me, spare the others. They have nothing to do with this."

"Me? Kill them?" The assassin asked with a questionable tone. "Now, why would I do that? I'm only here to serve as the welcoming committee for your new company deal. I just wanted to make a grand entrance because I was hired to."

"Hired to?" The politician couldn't fathom his morals. "A 'grand entrance?' How could you do this? You're our client, are you not? Well, you can kiss your deal goodbye. You murdered innocent people today just to send this message-"

The assassin vanished in a shroud of mist in a mere millisecond, reappearing behind the politician's chair with his sharpened blade against his neck. It gently poked the surface of his skin, piercing it and creating a minor scratch as a warning. "And I would do it again, preferably this entire room if you're not careful with your next words, Mr. CEO." He threatened.

"You bastard..."

"Sadly, I do need you alive, for now. I am not the client you are looking for, but because your birdbrained guards bombed your elevator, it'll take him quite a while to get up here. So sit back, and enjoy the show..."

A minute passed seemed like an hour for the entire room. The client arrived after climbing fifteen flights of stairs, passing through a rusty door that hadn't been used in a decade. The client was a white-suited wealthy man strutting effortlessly with an acrylic rhinestone, quartz, and pearl walking cane. The grip was a mosaic design made out of lapis-lazuli, mixed with gleaming white translucent quartz, while the shaft was rhinestone carbon-fiber. His slicked-back long brown hair and confident smile radiated with an appealing attractiveness for his appearance and soul. His chiseled shaven light-skinned face mixed with his iron spectacles was classy and sophisticated. His darkened hazelnut eyes and tall stature was like a statue crafted spectacularly out of pure gold.

"My grandfather once said," The man voiced out with a rambunctious, French-accented tone. "The strength to amass a fortune grants you the strength to amass all life," He paced toward the side of the room and gazed out the shattered glass windows breathing wind through his body. The room's silence filled the hostages with ringing ears. "He said... it was the gift of man. We are brought into this world to succeed, not fail."

One of his taller and robust bodyguards approached the conference table where the deceased lifeless body remained, placing a polished aluminum briefcase on the glass shard-riddled table. As his fingers spun the combination code on the briefcase, the client approached the table while using his cane for support. However, it didn't appear that he was physically impaired; the cane was just for show.

The briefcase opened up, and the client spun it around revealing thirty-billion pounds stacked neatly on top of each other in a rich goldenrod interior. The money shined from a distance and was glazed with temptation. The client, playing with his diamond and golden ring by twiddling his fingers, glanced at the politician with enchanting and mesmerizing eyes.

"And here is your fortune," The client stated. "Now go. Take it and leave behind what you have made."

"I don't understand," The politician exclaimed, feeling hesitation in his throat. "What are you offering?"

"A second chance," The client corrected. "If you believe in rules, then you shall take them. The opportunity to walk away does not come free," He began pacing back and forth around the conference table, breathing down each executive board members' necks with humorous diligence. His impertinent attitude and tone were mixed with sarcasm. "So, I am buying all of your lives. Taking this money is not only a mere purchase, but a gesture of good faith and future."

The executive board members cowered in fear, shivering from the assassin's threatening presence. The politician remained still. "And if we reject?" He asked.

"Sir!" One of his employees exclaimed at the astounding response to sacrifice their lives.

The client chuckled. "How foolish of you to gamble their lives for your company," His accented tone increased in vigor, mixed with a hint of disappointment. "You will find that I am not a patient man. Rejection of my gesture, is not a rejection of an offer. It is a spit in my face of dishonor and pride." He leaned his head in to the politician and whispered to his ear. "Life or death. Your choice."

"Okay," The politician accepted, bowing in false respect for their client. "O-okay. We... we accept. Please. Just let us go. Release them... please."

"Excellent!" The client clapped jubilantly, skipping with his quartz cane while the meeting room observed his shift in behavior. "But I was wondering... if you knew something that we don't."

"Anything." The politician gave into his demands.

The client smirked. "The Stormfields believe that you know the location of one of our greatest rivals, and we have evidence to believe that you are keeping it away from us. Your plus ones. The names of their leader. We have been keeping a close eye on you after all."

"Stormfields...?" The politician steered his face toward the client with a complete demeanor change. The assassin who held him down by the neck released him, allow him to offer his full commitment into the conversation. His face wrinkled up in disgust as he rotated his chair to face the client with devilish eyes. "So you are him." He began. "Vayne."

The client named Vayne smirked and tapped his cane on the floor. "And you know where that pathetic old man is, don't you, Mr. Politician?"

"I do," The politician replied. "But I would rather be kissing his feet rather than following the commands of a greedy bastard sellout such as yourself, inserting your head into places where you are not welcome. Look where your foolishness has steered Polycyclone, and for what!? We never wanted you here, goddamn it!"

Vayne chuckled in excitement. "That was never your decision to make!" He teased. "You show your true colors, even in the face of death, and I am impressed. But know this. I will find him even if you do not let us."

With an impish smirk and nod, the assassin grabbed the politician and hurled him on top of the conference table with a single hand. The entire board's fearful vicissitudes exploded in agony and fear after the assassin leaped on the table, shaking the entire structure.

"No!" A young female board member demurred with mucus leaked down her noses. Her face was paler than a vampire's skin and her eyes were drained from tears like a dried-up corpse. "P-please don't hurt him! If you want to kill him, kill me instead!"

The assassin's eyes fixated on the young board member without moving a muscle.

"Last chance," Vayne said while clapping in awe. "Your board members are begging for their lives, Mr. Politician." He approached the young woman and snatched her scalp. He dragged her towards the table and tossed her against the glass shards, watching her bloodied hands pile upon the shards that pierced her skin. "We have indulged your lies for far too fucking long."

"M-Mr... Stahl..." The young board member's eyes quivered at the politician, revealing his last name. "He's a kind-hearted p-person. He truly cares about the company and he'll steer it to success once he becomes elected. S-so, you see, he wants nothing but the best of-"

"No, no, no, that's not what I wanted," Vayne said. He positioned his foot precisely enough so that he was able to stomp on the female board member's hands against the shards of glass, puncturing her skin even further. She shrieked in absolute pain while the other board members cowered in terror. The assassin grinned in pleasure. "I want a name."

"Please! Don't hurt him!" The board member's voice nearly cracked at the intense volume of her pleads. "Kill me if you have to! Take my family! My dedication to this company is with you! Please! I beg of you! Please..." She whimpered and repeatedly begged him to spare Mr. Stahl's life in a hushed tone after her strength was waning. "Please..."

"It's Dyrden!" Mr. Stahl cried, cracking from the pressure. "Dyrden Fuma!"

"Dyrden Fuma," Vayne repeated while he paced towards the entrance of the conference room. He struck his cane against the bloody floor and glanced over at his assassin bodyguard. "So he is involved. After everything we had done to clean up this atrocity."

The assassin released Mr. Stahl from his mechanical grasp and remained still, glaring at the others who quivered in fear. The client's smirk returned once more, and the assassin bent down against Mr. Stahl, who remained facedown with blood seeping down his forehead.

"Very well. Your name is valid." Vayne's sorrowful and sarcastic remark concluded the night. He approached the entrance and sharply rose his accented voice. "My grandfather never believed in second chances. In an eat or be eaten world, either you do, or you don't. Apologies, Mr. Politician."

The assassin placed his left hand on Mr. Stahl's head while his right transformed into a dense sharpened blade.

"NO!" The young female board member cried as she closed her eyes. All that was heard from the night were the desperate cries for the assassin and the client to spare his life, but it was substituted instead for the uncontrollably strangulation cries from blood seeping into the throat. More repeated slamming noises against the conference table echoed on the fifteenth floor of Polycyclone Industries. Blood spurted across the opened briefcase, staining the goldenrod interior and the billions of stacked pounds.

For a brief moment, the blood moon illuminated the Taurus District to signal a lunar eclipse.