Acclaimed archeologist Auron Barton staggered through the empty cubicles of the Dricast capitol building. He lunged towards the nearest desk he could see, its walls were covered in family pictures of the cubicle’s now absent occupant, the thirty-two-year-old man then collapsed into the chair and then careened forward and reached for the power button. The moment the system booted he reached into his pocket and pulled out his AUCES and connected it to the system. Feverishly racing through several files on the system he found a few highly classified files concerning Dricast, upon finding this he copied it over to his AUCES.
Upon completing the transfer of the files he, yanked the AUCES from its cable and stuffed it back into his pocket, and stood up and started walking out of the cubicle only to collapse to the ground clasping the right side of his chest with blood slowly creeping through his fingers.
The Archeologist lay a moment, gasping for breath, taking stock. I am still alive. He crawled away from the desk and scanned the deserted office for a place to hide.
A voice spoke, chillingly close. “Do not move.”
On his hands and knees, the archeologist froze, turning his head slowly.
At the end of the row of cubicles, just twenty feet away, a mountainous silhouette of his attacker stared through the locked glass door. He was broad and tall, with yellow eyes piercing through the dark and flowing black hair. His hand held a long sword that glowed a gentle blue. He raised the blue blade directly in front of him with the edge of the blade towards the glass door, as if ready to burst through the door and to the waiting archeologist. “You should not have run.” His voice sounded with an imposing tone. “Now tell me where it is.”
“I told you already,” the archeologist stammered, kneeling defenseless on the floor of the office. “I have no idea what you are talking about!”
“You are lying.” The man stared at him, perfectly immobile except for the glint in his ghostly eyes.“You have something that is not yours.”
A shiver went through the archeologist’s body. How could he possibly know this?
“Tonight it will be returned to its rightful owners. Tell me where it is hidden, and you will live” The man drew his blade ever closer to the glass door, slowly penetrating the glass until the blade was fully through. The blade then stopped glowing. The man then twitched his wrist and the glass shattered and showered around the room. He then ran up to the archeologist and held the blade against his neck. “Is it a secret you will die for?”
Barton could not breathe.
The man tilted his head, peering down the blade of his sword.
Barton tilted his head down in defeat. “Wait,” he said slowly. “I will tell you what you need to know” The archeologist spoke his next words carefully. The lie he told was one he had rehearsed many times each time praying he would never have to use it.
When the archeologist finished speaking, his assailant smiled smugly. “Yes, the Goliath Club told me you would claim that.”
Barton recoiled. The Goliath Club?
“They knew you wouldn’t tell me the truth,” the man taunted. “They said that the lie you just told me would seal your fate and ensure your eternal silence.”
Ready to accept his fate the archeologist shrugged his body with no will to stave off his would be murderer. As he stared at the carpet of the office an idea rushed through his head. “Did the Goliath Club tell you why they want it?”
The man froze for a second only to continue his chilly demeanor.”I am a high level Goliath Club member, they tell me everything.” The blade then began to glow again and burn away a bit of Barton’s skin along his neck.
Wincing from the pain the archeologist continued. “Then why wouldn’t you want it for yourself?”
The man then withdrew his blade from the archeologist’s neck. “Tell me why the Goliath Club would want such a simple item.”
Knowing the one weakness of a Goliath Club member Barton look up to his assailant. “Promise me something.”
The man smugly sneered. “I have to kill you”
Without a second thought Barton pleads. “Please take care of my son.”
Confused by the request the man snickered. “As you wish.”
Hoping that by telling one of the Goliath Club’s lackeys the truth about the object would put a monkey wrench into their plans the Archeologist told him everything he discovered about the object. Every word he uttered held the possibility of changing the world, so he made sure every word was clear and concise.
Satisfied the man backed up and reached down his hand to the archeologist. “Give me your hand.” After helping Barton stand the man steps forward a bit. He then drew his blade and while looking into Barton’s eyes he looking it into the archeologist’s chest and slowly drew it back out.”Thank you for telling me, I promise he will be looked over.”
Barton collapsed to the floor anticipating death. After ensuring his assailant left the office he reached into his pocket and pulled out his AUCES. Going through his files he pulled up a picture of his young son. With his last breath he uttered aloud to himself. “I hope I remember you…”
© Copyright 2016 Aesop Leuar. All rights reserved.