Data file R-13: “Simulacrum Project”

  [According to data captured in the field by Revenant Squad, and through analysis of Flakstorm’s mainframe (shout-out to Virus for leaving some of it intact), we’ve learned that Flameye has attempted on multiple occasions to create a mechanized replica of a human, usually using equipment based off of the Terran Knights. Although Flameye’s word is likely meaningless, Rasil believes that the Terran Knights scared Flameye so much over the years that he determined no racazoid could beat them unless it could use the best aspects of humanity.

  Flakstorm’s files contained, under an entry marked Localdata/Simulacrum_Deployment/Operatives, a list of previous replicas. The first ten are code named “Paradigm” and are currently listed for active combat in Embershard. As of the creation of this file, Revenant Squad’s top priority is to locate these Paradigms and destroy them.

  Note from Rasil: “Guys, I got a lead. I’m meeting someone soon who says he’s seen them. Keep you posted, deal?”

  Note from Helios: “This is basically just a chat room now. Deal, boss.”

  Note from Alyssa: “Deal.”

  Note from Gears: “Deal.”]

  ***

  Rasil walked into the right tavern and kept a hand on his gun. Without Virus, the environment was a lot less volatile, but a fight could still break out. The crowd was calm, and Rasil could instantly spot the one person he was looking for. That guy sure does stand out.

  The mercenary known as “Blue Jay” sat in a corner, surveying the rest of the room. He wore a shambled-together outfit consisting of dark blue and black robes; a long, black coat with a hood; silver gauntlets with glowing tubes, functionally power wires, connecting them to an energy pack on his back; and his distinct face mask, covering his nose and mouth in a smooth but vaguely avian visage. His demeanor reminded Rasil, in a way, of Alyssa when he first saw her, except there was a burning desperation in Blue Jay’s eyes. A chaotic, rebellious need that would take anything it needed to survive. Rasil shuddered and wondered if Flameye ever gave him that ravenous look.

  “Blue Jay,” Rasil acknowledged as he walked over.

  Blue Jay gave an initially respectful nod and said, “Rasil, a pleasure to actually meet you face to face.” This time, however, respectful sentiments were not genuine or mutual.

  “Good attempt," Rasil curtly replied.

  “What?”

  “I found a timed grenade in my room the night we opened Flakstorm’s archives. Good timing, decent weapon choice, terrible execution. I know it was you.”

  Blue Jay chuckled. “What can I say? At least I only attack other killers.” Making eye contact with a sudden and fierce glare, eyes widening, he emphasized his distaste clearly. “And I’m hardly lucky enough for a single grenade to take you down.”

  “You wanted me silenced, right? I’m going deep into projects Flameye has hidden for half a century.”

  “Digging in a minefield. You keep going, and the only red left on your face will be your own blood.”

  “And yet, I didn’t call in the imperial army after your little assassination attempt. I’m willing to negotiate.”

  “With what? What can you give me that hasn’t been taken already? What is it that you even possess?”

  “I’m offering you Flameye’s simulacrum data," Rasil said.

  “What?" Blue Jay breathed quietly. Rasil internally smiled at having piqued the mercenary’s attention.

  “If you care so much, then that’s the deal. You tell me what you know, and I give you the file, every copy. No one will ever again die for that information, except maybe me.”

  “You may be the prince, but even you can’t just hand over confidential files.”

  “Confidential? This data is from Flameye, not someone deserving of secrecy.”

  “You still can’t offer that.”

  “Or I can tell the entire kingdom that you tried to kill me. Do we have a deal?” Rasil growled. His patience was wearing thin. Why couldn’t this mercenary just say yes? It was a selfish decision with no consequences to him! Surely there was no need for haggling or mild conversation!

  “Deal," Blue Jay finally agreed. He shook hands with Rasil in a slow and deliberate manner, searching for any sign of a bluff. Mercenaries normally play by their own rules, but Rasil had just rejected that and shown his entire hand, even after hostility. He really was his father’s son...

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Blue Jay leaned back in his chair and began, “The Simulacrum project briefly neared completion about thirty years ago. The Western expansion efforts by the monarchy pushed hard into Slick Jones’s little empire, and Flameye watched as they both opened up holes in their defenses, created dysfunctional failsafes, and sold out to whoever they could for victory. His advancements lead to the creation of the V-2 Paradigm model. They’re tall, fast, and capable of gutting twelve people in as many seconds. He already had ten of the base model from the original racazoid war, but the upgrades made them combat-viable.”

  “They weren’t already?” Rasil questioned.

  “Hardly. They had an ability to scan time energy levels, so he used them to sniff out hotspots—”

  “—In hope of finding the Shadowbane Amulet," Rasil finished.

  “Yep. He was really bitter about Icarus yanking the thing away and burying it somewhere, so priority one was finding it. The Paradigms, upgraded for combat, sniffed out signals in Embershard. Flameye had a hunch, I guess. About two years ago, during the final year of your father’s reign, they found an exact match to the Amulet’s frequency. Flameye deduced that Icarus and the other Terran Knights had hidden it in a vault beneath the keep, and he decided to destroy Embershard to take it back.” Blue Jay sighed. “A seismic cannon. He brought in a seismic cannon and readied it to fire on the city from three miles away, flattening it completely. Only the mercenaries knew; the imperials didn't have the recon data for anything definitive.”

  “And?” Rasil pressed. If this story were true, the city had almost been destroyed several years ago. He needed to know what had happened there.

  “Well,” Blue Jay said as he looked at the table, "that's where I came into the story.”

  ***

  Two years ago...

  Embershard Outskirts...

  Blue Jay walked down the road, clutching his fists. One of them hurt where he had punched that thug who had threatened him, but he didn’t care. You don’t insult a mercenary unless you can handle a punch. Take what you can get, and spit in the face of those who doubt you. That’s what Blue Jay knew, and it was all he needed. His gauntlets were glowing slightly now, deep blue energy flowing from inside the mounted cannon barrels.

  Great. His emotions were setting it off again. He angrily huffed and reached behind him to switch on his energy pack’s limiter. After a second, the flow stopped and the glowing dissipated. He couldn’t let that happen again; it never ended well when he lost control.

  Looking up, he saw rain clouds forming and felt a drop of water hit the mask that covered his mouth and nose. Because, of course, that was just what he needed. “Hey, kid!” Blue Jay heard a familiar voice call. He followed it, and saw a red-haired woman dressed in a blue gown waving to him from inside the street’s clothing shop. “Get in here before you get soaked!” she called.

  Blue Jay sighed and ran for the door, accepting her affectionate pat on his shoulder as he entered the building. The lights were dimmed, as the shop had closed for the evening, and the clean racks of cloaks and jackets were front and center.

  “Priorities," the woman chuckled. “Every time it rains, someone comes running in, completely wet and needing something urgently. Offering a dry coat is the least I can do with the weather in this blasted city.”

  “You give them out for free?” Blue Jay groaned, sitting by the register. The woman nodded. She flicked Blue Jay’s dark hood off and ruffled his brown hair.

  She then gazed into his eyes and lectured in a dramatic voice, “Every wronged person deserves a helping hand, and it hardly matters who provides it.” Blue Jay thought about that for a moment, not buying her Samaritan attitude. She saw his look and laughed. “Loosen up, kid! I’m not speaking for everyone, just my opinion, you know?”

  “Why not leave this place? Those ideals don’t matter to most here," Blue Jay asked. The woman turned and gave a light slap to his face, not painful, but evocative.

  “Leave? And abandon the good people here to fend for themselves without their Shadow Veil? Do you even know why I got this name?”

  “Because it sounds cool?”

  “Grow up.”

  “I’m twenty.”

  “And I’m thirty-three. Gotcha there," Shadow Veil chuckled. She crossed her arms and continued, pacing through the shop. “You should know, mercenary names are bestowed by others based on your attitude, skill, and weapons. Sounding cool is secondary.”

  ”What does it mean, then?” Blue Jay’s interest was piqued now.

  “Shadow Veil is the same as the veil of shadows, right? I veil, cover, and support those who live in the shadows. Case in point, I leave, and the mercenaries of Embershard are down one ally and a thousand outfits.”

  “You really make that many mercenary outfits?”

  “Yep. I even made the prince’s outfit, kid. You should’ve heard the little squirt that day, asking for a cape that could block firebolts and was resistant to blades. Ambitious... He’s one of my favorite customers aside from Sand Strider, or you, frankly...” Shadow Veil trailed off and began rearranging one of her shelves, while Blue Jay looked in a mirror by the entrance.

  His black coat was torn slightly, its hood ripped where it met his cheek. Meanwhile, his energy pack was fine, and the tubes that connected it to his gauntlets on his left and right were miraculously intact. He had gone a month without repairs, which was fortunate. He didn’t have the money for them anyway. “Take that off," Shadow Veil said without looking away from her work.

  “What?”

  “The energy pack. Take it off and let me fix up that coat of yours.”

  “I can’t pay for that," Blue Jay curtly refused. He, to some extent, appreciated Shadow Veil’s charity, but she’d been supporting him since he was thirteen. The coddling was starting to frustrate him.

  “Chin up, and don’t refuse a gift, ever," Shadow Veil lectured, slipping the straps of the pack off of his arms. She took his jacket off forcibly, whispering, “Yoink.” Blue Jay just stayed where he was, content to sulk and wait for her to repair the torn fabric.

  Credit to her wherever it was due; her policy of opening her door to anyone meant she knew the exact outfit details of most Embershard mercenaries. If it weren’t for her silent confidentiality, people would come after her constantly for valuable information about opponents’ weaknesses. Brave, he considered, to risk it all like that, but such was her way.

  A knock on the door stirred them both from their thoughts. Shadow Veil shouted, “Get the door! I’ll be done with this in a few minutes.”

  “But what if—”

  “I trained you to run the shop already. See what they want, and for gosh sakes, get them out of the rain!” Shadow Veil ordered. Blue Jay nodded silently and walked to the door, swinging it open. The face that greeted him was one he didn’t recognize, but he’d soon be haunted by it nonetheless.