Agenda

"Ma chère mort, how good it is to see you."

His sleek mohawk bristled in the breeze that flowed through the towering structures. He lowered his head slowly. There he sat upon one knee before his liege, his round black glasses slid forward down his nose revealing his devout glare. He said nothing as he waited.

"It is such unusual that I should see you this early, non? Normally you sleep, deux, cinq cents years, non? Not that it matters. What really matters is why you are here. You know exactly why you are here, non?"

17 paused for a moment leaving the silence to the birds. His eyes slowly rolled up to meet the tips of his eye brows. A sinister look formed in his ugly face, yet oddly a silly look gleamed in his eyes. The Merovingian laughed slightly and tapped his cane on the cement before him. He tipped his head back and quickly returned the conversation.

"This is what I love about les morts, always straight to the point. You know exactly why you are here, as do I. You had a dream. A silly peu de rêve. Ah, yes, but in this dream you found something, what was it, do you know? Of course you do, or else you would not be here awaiting your next move. Yes, it is simply obvious you know all about your present time, but tell me dead, have you not forgotten your past? Have you not forgotten how you betrayed me for that silly masked cause?"

His exposed vocal cords began to vibrate beneath his black bandana. His voice was deep. It wasn't in the aspect that his vocal cords let out a shallow shrill, it was mostly from the blood he constantly gargled on that gave his voice this horrid deep appearance. This was undoubtedly one of a hundred reasons why he rarely took the time to speak.

"I have since paid for my actions."

"No. You were my concierge lackey only as a means to, how do you say, put you in your place. The real debt is yet to be paid. Which brings me to your future. Do you know what your future will be, la morte?"

"No."

"Of course you do not. Alas, not even I know precisely what the future will bring us, but we do know whom may have such information on the subject, non? The answer to that is so simple any rouge de pillule could answer it for us. Such a tragedy, the little girl gone, 'er bodyguard indisposed. Ah, yes, it is in your eyes, you now see what it is I want, non?"

Seventeen nodded his head slowly.

"Good. I will hold you no longer. Bring them to me."

Dead stood slowly with his head still lowered. He began to turn his body and take his leave before he was restrained by the Merovingian's hand on his shoulder.

"..And remember, ma chère mort, there will be consequences."

He held to the steel pipe as hard as he could as he slowly slithered his body down it. Turning his head, he looked down to check how far the flat surface was below him. It was made of steel and covered with rocks and debris from fallen ships and inoperable sentinels from battles fought. The floor was much closer now then before. When he first crawled unto the rusty pipe and started down the long tunnel there was nothing but an emptiness below him. Now he could see a landing. Now he could see the end of his journey through the Real. Now he could see the ship.

‘Soon Jonny boy, soon we will be at our destination. Soon the mission will be over. Are you prepared Jonny boy? Are you prepared to do what we wish? What we ask? After this time, this long journey, you are well ready. We have been waiting for this moment, and it is but a few feet below us. Jump Jonny boy, jump.'

He clenched his body closer to the pipe and tensed his muscles just before flinging his body from the pipe and to the base of the sewer. He fell for what could be estimated four-hundred yards before smashing into a pit of glass and shards of metal. Bones snapped and cracked as his body bounced from the impact. He lay for a moment before sitting up, shaking the dirt and glass from his head. He reached down and slowly slid his hands along his body, feeling out each shard that had wedged into his cold flesh. He wrapped his fist around a large piece imbedded into his leg, then another in his lower back. He pulled out a final piece, deep within his ribcage, imbedded so deep it was taking all his effort to remove. The edges scrapped along his bone as each inch raised out, and with a final jerk he pulled it out in front of him.

‘That's it Jonny boy, that's it.'

He examined the brown quagulated blood that slowly oozed down the grimy glass shard. His head then dropped down to his chest and studied the blood that slimed down the open wound a quarter inch before stopping. There was little blood left in his rigor body. He raised to one knee, then planted his hands to the ground and slowly raised to his feet. His limbs were stiff and cracked with every movement. Almost naturally he slid the large shard of glass into the waist line of his tattered shorts and moved forward.

He slowly began to stumble forward, and gazed up at the ship ahead. This was not a standard ship, it was much shorter, smaller then most. He stumbled to the hull and slowly slid his hand along the steel surface, with his fingers he made out an imprint of a brilliant horse standing on it's hind legs with wings like an angel.

‘This is it. We found it.'

"Yessss..."

His tongue flopped out of his mouth and slowly ran along his lips. He could taste the blood already. He kept running his hand along the underbelly of the ship, weaving between hover pads as he made his way to the landing gear. He used the steel strip to prop himself up and slowly began to slither through the gears into the ship. He flaccidly worked his body in and out of the gears, breaking and popping bones as need be to further himself. Without warning the weight of the ship shifted, and his fingers somehow wedged between two large metal pieces of the ships machinery. He pulled a few out with ease, but one was crushed underneath the steel. He began yanking as hard as he could, popping the bone from it's place and stretching the flesh apart until the finger ripped from his hand.

He climbed further up and found his way into the undercarriage. He rolled onto his back and glanced up, noticing a dim green light glowing through the steel platform above him. Reaching up he grasped a hold of the steel caged floorboard and pulled himself to his knees. He observed the deck above for any signs of life before gently lifting the steel and sliding it aside. Hobbling his body up, one limb at a time, he slumped it into the room above. Finally, pulling his body fully into the ship, he laid lifeless on the steel floor.

‘Just wait, Jonny boy, just wait...'

Asamodai pulled the lever and let another pile of goop slop down into his tin bowl. He turned and faced the table where Phrack sat shoveling the same goop into his mouth, hardly taking breathes between gulps. He slumped down in the seat across the table from Phrack and raised his spoon. "Grubs up!" he said as he took a scoop of the synthetic compound they often referred to as tastee wheat. As he poured it into his mouth he began to converse with Phrack.

"So how long will you be staying this time?"

"Just a week or two. Time enough to get my fill of Jonas and Ett before I leave."

Asa nodded softly and took another bite. As unnecessary as it was, he chewed his tastee wheat before gulping it down.

"Is Ett asleep?" Asa asked.

"Yup, so is Jonas. They've had a long day."

Asa nodded. Phrack lifted his bowl and started pouring the gunk into his mouth, finishing off the bowl of slop. He raised from the seat and headed to the dispenser for seconds of the slimy substance. He spoke as he made his way across the room.

"Charlotte was really on my case today about spending time with Jonas. She says I spend more time staring at the Matrix then staring at him."

"That's silly. You can't compare the two."

"That's what I said."

"Yeah, she's been in a naggy mood lately. She's still on my case about repairing the starter. It works, but it could work better. Then there‘s the kick bag I want to put in the supply room. I still haven't gotten around to it yet, but she says if I do I‘ll become her kick bag."

Phrack nodded and chuckled softly as he filled his bowl and turned back around to the table. Asa continued on.

"She's also been on my case about our locations. She says I keep choosing these hot spots to park the ship. Says that if anything were to happen to us it would be all my fault, but, it‘s not as dangerous out here as it used to be. I mean, it‘s not like sentinels are still on the hunt for any sign of life."

"She's just worried about our son." Phrack claimed as he took a seat.

"Yeah, I could see that." Asa agreed.

He raised the spoon to his mouth and stopped half way as a putrid smell streamed up into his nostrils. He slowly put his spoon down, back into the bowl, and began to sniff the air like a hound out on the hunt. Phrack stared at Asa with his head cocked to the side as he wondered what had possessed his friend to start sniffing the air. Suddenly the smell hit Phrack like a ton of bricks and he pushed his body back and pinched his nose.

"You son of a b*tch, you farted!"

Phrack pointed at Asa with a crooked smile on his face from the assumed joke. Asa shook his head violently and pointed right back at Phrack.

"That wasn't me, that was you."

"Nuh-uh!"

The two bickered for a moment like two kids on the playground. They laughed and continued accusing for several minutes. Finally they settled down and began to question the smell.

"Well, if it wasn't me, and wasn't you, then who?"

"Probably Ett, you can smell some of hers a mile off."

The two laughed hysterically for a moment.

"I don't know," Phrack said. "Maybe it's not a fart."

"Yeah, now that you mention it, it is a bit too raunchy to be a fart."

"God, it's getting worse."

"It's so horrible, yet I can't help but think it's something familiar."

"It smells like.." Phrack stopped and inhaled a large whiff of the smell.

"It smells like burning flesh." Asa interrupted.

"You better go check it out."

"Me?!" Asa blurted out, "Why me?"

"Cause it's your ship."

"But.. My tastee wheat is still warm." Asamodai claimed.

"What are you talking about?" Phrack questioned, "That goop is never warm."

"No, the friction from it pouring through the pipes heats it up a little." Asa debated his phony claim.

Phrack and Asa stared at each other for a moment, testing who would break first. Finally, Phrack raised his spoon and quickly dipped it into Asa's bowl, taking a taste of his tastee wheat.

"There," Phrack began, "argument settled. It's cold."

"Bastard." Asa teased as he slowly raised from the seat.

"I'll go check up on Jonas, make sure it wasn't him."

"Right-o"

Asa and Phrack split paths as Phrack went to check up on the baby and his love, while Asa began his search of the ship. After checking the laboratory right quick he felt the upper deck would be better left alone, seeing as how he knew what was in each room. Ettaric and Jonas in one, and his bunk in another. The mess hall, and the bathroom. Always a simple run through. He climbed the ladder down to the main deck and strolled past the operator's station, and through the small rows of chairs that granted their ability to jack into the Matrix. Though dark, he could see no signs of any abnormal activity, nor could he catch on to where the scent was leading him.

He sniffed the air a bit more while looking around the room and pinched his nose.

"God it stinks." He said to himself as he continued on.

He walked slowly to the end of the room, heading to the staircase that lead to the lower deck. When he reached the entrance he lifted the hatch to the stairwell and let out a cloud of stench that flustered its way up into his nose. He knew right then the smell had to be coming from the lower deck. Not wasting any time, he skipped the staircase and simply jumped down to the steel platform below.

The dim green light glistened off the side of his face and he looked around the hallway. His first stop was the supply room. He creaked the door open and gave a look around. It was dark, almost pitch black had it not been for the small lighting that hung above. He walked in and began searching between the stacks of supplies they kept stowed away. It was no surprise he found nothing, for he could tell the stench wasn't nearly as putrid in the room as it would be had he found the source. He slammed the door shut and made his way back into the hall.

"Gah, where is this coming from?!" He exclaimed. The smell was beginning to burn his nostrils.

His next stop was the fuse room. As he opened the door another cloud of stink blasted his face. There and then a chill went up his spine as he realized it must be coming from inside. He crept in slowly and searched the room. In the far back, down the many rows of fuse panels he noticed a shadowy slump laying on the floor.

"Hello?"

He cried out, but there was no response. Fists clenched he moved forward to the object, curiously investigating. One foot in front of the other, he made his way across the room. Finally he reached it, and tapped it softly with his toes. He knelt down, and gagged half way as the smell intoxicated his nostrils, almost making his tastee wheat feel the need to return to his mouth.

"Hello?"

He questioned again as he reached down and laid his hand gently on the shoulder of the cadaver. He slumped it over to reveal the horribly degraded face of what once was a man. Once again he gagged, this time getting a taste of his meal.

"Oh god."He said while examining the rotting flesh.

The body lay lifeless, eyes looking up to its forehead with half a mouth flapping wide open. He examined it further, guessing to himself how this corpse may have found its way into the ship. He stared deeply into one of the wounds, one so deep he could see a small portion of the still beating heart that lay beneath the ribcage. Staring intently he began to lose himself in a delusional dream that possessed his mind. It was a dream of death, one the imagination created of a story that never existed. Suddenly, a booming clank was echoing though the hallways, and Asa whipped his head around violently to inspect the noise, still holding a part of the deceased.

"Phrack?"

He called out, but was left with silence. He waited for a moment, then shrugged, assuming nothing more then his mind playing dirty tricks. As he returned his gaze to the carcass, he quickly noticed the eyes had shifted, and no longer looked up, but instead directly at him. His jaw fell open, and before he could react he was met with the cold hand rapidly grabbing a hold of his temple and smashing the other end of his head into the side wall.

Asamodai's body slumped down and began snoring thunderously. The cadaver raised and stood, hunched over Asa's comatose body. It gave a smile, and blood slowly poured out of it's mouth as gravity slowly took control over it.

‘One down.'

It raised its head with a certain satisfaction and stumbled forward, tripping over Asamodai. Then slowly he made his way across the room, and out into the hallway...

Phrack grazed Jonas slowly across the head with his index. He admired his son sleeping. If Charlotte only knew how much time he really spent watching his child. He glanced over at her sleeping across the room, floating away in some dream world perhaps. He smiled with a certain satisfaction and made his way out of the room, certain that everything was in order. He shut the door softly, and made his way along the catwalk. As he pressed forward toward the mess hall, he heard the soft scrape of footsteps below him.

"Hurry it up Asa, your porridge is getting cold."