Chapter Twenty-Seven

Raul - Plaza de Vulcan, Naguela

Watching Paulie, one of his trusted enforcers, twitching on the ground from the immortal’s shock attack, was a sight Raul would never forget. The image seared into his memory. Paulie, ever the guardian, had thrown himself into the fray to shield Raul. In his last moments, Raul sensed, Paulie yearned to etch his legacy in an act of valor, confronting the assassin of President Secada. The TV said it was a heart attack, but the streets knew better.

Finnigan Watts, the man standing before them with a mean glower, was the same man the President shook hands with at the briefing. Watts looked more intimidating in the flesh. He was in his early twenties with a rugged, yet charismatic appearance, standing at around 6 feet tall with a lean, athletic build. His hair was dark brown, styled in a casual, slightly tousled manner.

Another loud thud came from the top floor of the warehouse. Come on, Zella! Don’t die. Please!

Raul took a glance at the briefcase that was now across the room, underneath a fallen stack of shelves. It would take a stretch of the arm to retrieve it. He sent up a silent prayer, hoping that the briefcase would remain undisturbed, a hidden treasure amidst the chaos. He also prayed that Watts wouldn’t bring any harm to his Xopren ally.

“What do you keep looking at?” Watts asked. The immortal followed Raul’s gaze. “It’s the third time you looked in that direction. You got a weapon stashed or something? Eh? You think it’s gonna help you?”

“Just assessing the damage,” Raul said.

Watts quickly glanced between him and the fallen shelves, not buying the story. Slowly, he trailed across the room, stepping around scattered objects. Raul’s heart pounded. If he spotted the briefcase, surely he’d look inside. “Why’d you kill the president?” Raul boldly asked.

Finnigan Watts stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling back to Raul. “Come again?” Watts stepped slowly towards Raul now.

If he had to take a beating in order to keep possession of the EnigmaCore, then so be it. He couldn’t let it fall into the hands of an American. Certainly not an immortal. “You killed President Secada. I know it. Everyone does.”

“Is that the propaganda you’re spreading in this shitbag country?” Watts snapped. “Well, let’s say I killed your president. What are you planning on doing about it? You can’t even deal with your neighbors across the border.”

“I wasn’t born a Naguelean,” said Raul. “But this country is my second home. And I can tell you that Naguelean’s never forget a foul deed. You will pay for your crimes.” Raul watched the immortal’s expression turn darker.

Several gasps escaped the men behind Raul as they saw Watts' hair raising, his eyes flashing and focused, his face concentrated. He looked ready to unleash an attack on them. “Guess what? I did kill the president. Why don’t you make me pay for my crimes right now?”

“Coño!” yelled one of Raul’s Naguelean associates. Raul raised a hand to silence him.

Finnigan Watts spread his feet, clearly getting ready for something. Raul turned his gaze to his new Xopren ally, the man who would oversee production on the EnigmaCore’s last phase. Raul nudged his head, urging the man to flee.

When Raul looked back, Finnigan Watts was now facing away from them and seemingly talking to himself. “Yes. What’s the problem?” he said, speaking into some form of wireless communicator. Watts gazed at the upper room as he said his next words. “Might be too late for that, Webster.”

Slowly, Raul slipped his hand around to the handle poking out of his waistband. It would only do so much against an immortal, but it was some form of protection. He let his hand rest on the handle for a moment, listening to Watts’ conversation.

“Pictures? But… From where? How?” Watts was saying. He shot a venom glance back at Raul and all of his mean, his eyes searching their hands. “I’m going to search everyone I can see, but I don’t think it came from where I am.” And then Watts held his palm towards them, forming small sparks around his fingers. “Hands in the air, all of you.”

*

Amina Dark - Plaza de Vulcan, Naguela

Amina watched the redhead woman and the stocky Southeast Asian dude as they stood beside the vehicle with their hands up. Their weapons were spread on the ground beside them. Obedient little puppies, aren’t you?

She shifted the barrel of the desert eagle between them. Usually, she wouldn’t resort to guns, but this ensured they wouldn’t be brave enough to try something. Watts and Masha were elsewhere; she couldn’t take chances. She recognized these two from the car park skirmish. This dude had cried about her, blinding him again, suggesting that she’d done it before. She’d blinded hundreds of people in her lifetime, so it was difficult to place the incident.

The man stopped around twenty feet from the drop of the hill. “This far enough?” he asked. The woman stopped next to him.

“Give me your names,” Amina said. “Both of you.” She aimed the gun at the man’s crotch to urge him on.

“Joe,” he said.

“Full name.”

“Joe Casela.”

The name didn’t sound familiar to her.

“Candace Jenkins,” said the redhead.

“You think I don’t know that you’re giving phony names?” Amina said. “You,” she said, eying Joe again. “You mentioned me blinding you before. When we fought in the car park. Tell me when I blinded you the first time.”

Candace, with her fiery red locks, shot a cautionary glance towards Joe, silently urging discretion. But Joe's eyes, ablaze with loathing, remained fixated on Amina. “You mean you assholes killed my mother and you don’t even remember? Too many ruined lives to keep track of, huh?”

Mother? We killed his mother. Hmmm…. But who? She searched her memory for their many hit jobs. Thinking of Asian targets. And then it hit her. The scientist! The one with the water purification breakthrough.

“Your mother was a scientist, am I right?” Amina asked. Joe’s chilling silence was enough confirmation. “Nothing personal, Joe. COG doesn’t like miracle inventions unless their own scientists are working on them. Fixing the water crisis in America would hit the capitalists too hard.”

Joe was shaking, his eyes fixated on her. She sneered in return, keeping the gun aimed at him.

“How does it feel to be so powerful and still be a COG slave?” Candace asked.

Amina pointed the desert eagle at her chest. “You’ve got it all wrong, Mary Sue. We aren’t slaves. We’re part of the inner circle. We call shots too.”

Amina heard ringing in her ears right as she considered putting a hole in Candace. She tapped her earpiece to patch the call through. “What is it?”

She had been expecting to hear the voice of either Masha or Watts. When she heard General Webster, her jaw fell. “I don’t care what you went there for, but I need all of you to pull out of Naguela right this minute,” he said. “Someone has photographed the three of you. Elaine Rowe has already published images online. This could lead to a political disaster, being that it’s so close to the Secada hit. Get out of there immediately, or I guarantee you, the Seers will fall on the sword.”

Amina Dark lowered the desert eagle.

-Mere Immortal. a creation of Gary Swift, unfolds exclusively on mereimmortal.com. Should you encounter it under a different name on other platforms, it's a case of plagiarism. Dive into the authentic chapters at our official site. Elevate your experience and get new chapter releases faster by subscribing to our Substack paid tier — your support fuels the swift and efficient unfolding of this project.

-This edition of 'Mere Immortal' is written in US English.