Reprogram, a King of the Ghouls Chronicle

REPROGRAM

By Elle Lewis

(a King of the Ghouls chronicle)

Gunnar pulled up the collar of his jacket. Rain pelted the street, mingling with hot steam billowing from putrid storm drains. Rain was supposed to be cleansing, rinsing away filth. But not in this city. The streets of Vanda were so old, so encrusted with dirt, that the rain only created rivulets of sludge.

          Gunner walked briskly, muck splashing onto his knee-high leather boots. Buildings climbed into a dark polluted sky, bright neon lights and projected advertisements cutting through the gloom. High above, the lights of air traffic flickered.

          Gunner passed a small food cart, hot trays smoking with delicious scents. His stomach grumbled painfully. He trudged on, winding through tight alleys and congested streets, keeping his eyes down.

His comm buzzed.

          Gunnar pressed his ear piece. "What?"

          Zephyr's bell-like voice reverberated inside his ear. "You're headed into the Jade Province," she said.

          "I'm aware," Gunnar responded.

          "It's dangerous," Zephyr stated.  

"What part of this city isn't dangerous?" Gunnar replied. "It's where they want to meet, so it's where I'm going." 

          "Gunnar, I don't like it. Maybe we should back out of the deal," she said.

          "My tracker is for emergencies," Gunnar responded with irritation. "Not so you can watch my location with unreasonable levels of anxiety."

          "I didn't realize you would be going headlong into greenie territory," Zephyr said.  

          "Now now little sis, the correct political term is Opava Warlock," Gunnar said. "Referring to them as greenie's is derogatory."

          "Gunnar this is serious!"

          Gunnar was a sarcastic son of a bitch and he knew it. But life had dealt him a shitty deck of cards. If he wasn't joking, he would probably strangle someone instead.

          "I can handle myself Zephyr. Can you go another day without eating? Because I don't think I can."

          "I could go back to work," she suggested.

          "You're not setting a foot back in that club. Just...trust me, alright? And be ready to meet at the rendezvous point."

          "But Gunnar...."

          He clicked off his comm.

          Fucking greenies, he thought. Gunnar knew the risk. But if this job meant food for him and his sister, and a roof over their heads for another few months, he'd do anything. At this point, he would sell his soul to the King of the Ghouls if it meant survival.

          The buildings began to change, morphing into the unmistakable shapes of Opava architecture. They loomed high overhead, narrow black structures with sharp spires. Green lights glowed inside oval windows.

          Vanda was a mecca for immigration. As one of the last standing cities on planet Earth that still had resources, it was a beacon shining in a fading world. It was filled with natives, born on Earth. But it was also brimming with inhabitants from other planets. Naturally the city was bursting at the seams, choking on its population size. Vanda was carefully divided, a precise grid, each area or province claimed by a clan. And the Jade Province belonged to the Warlocks, who hailed from the planet Opava.

          Gunnar didn't know why the Warlocks had left their home planet. Or how they had come to settle in Vanda. And he could care less. The history of the clans of Vanda was as significant to him as the toilet paper he wiped his ass with. None of it mattered. The past had no bearing on the present. And at present, he needed to eat and somehow provide for his little sister.

          Gunnar kept his eyes trained on the dirty street and managed to arrive at the address without incident. It was a small building on the outskirts of the Jade Province, an old construction from a time before the Warlocks. The building was little more than a stone shack with cracked windows. A mixture of green and yellow light glowed from within. Gunnar could see shadows beneath the door. A guard positioned in front of the entrance.

          "Fuck me," he said quietly and wrapped his knuckles on the wooden door.

          "Who's there?" barked a voice from behind the door.

          "I'm the reprogrammer you hired," Gunnar responded.

          Several moments of silence followed. Gunnar waited, the rain soaking his short blonde hair. Finally, he heard the slide of a bolt and the door opened.

          Gunnar studied the figure in front of him and a chill crawled down his spine. The Warlock's eyes were light green, so bright they held a luminous quality. Two black horns curved out of the skin of his forehead.

          "Get inside," the Warlock growled.

          Gunnar stepped inside, quickly assessing his surroundings. A second Warlock was sitting in front of a large wooden table, an open tool box and laptop bedside him. Laying on the table was a combat bot, facedown. Towards the back, a human woman leaned against the wall. Her hair was jet black and she was smoking a cigarette. The entire scene was bizarre and disjointed. However, the black panther that was perched on a shelf behind the wooden table tipped the scales from what the hell to what the fuck.

          "What is this?" Gunnar asked.

          The Warlock that was sitting in front of the table gestured to an empty chair and said, "Sit." Meanwhile the Warlock that let him in returned to his station in front of the door. The woman remained silent, the tip of her cigarette a small red eye that seemed to stare at him. The panther's tale twitched.

          "I'd rather stand," Gunnar replied.

          "Suit yourself," the Warlock said as he selected a small tool from the box. The control panel of the bot was open, wires and blue lights exposed.

          Gunnar's yellow slitted eyes roamed the room, taking in as many details as possible. He hadn't known what to expect, but certainly not this. His fingertips burned with heat, an automatic response to stress.

          "My name is Oberon," said the Warlock tinkering with the bot. "I am the one that spoke to you regarding this job." Oberon nodded to the panther. "And that is my younger brother, Fynn. Do not be alarmed at his appearance. He was foolish and two timed a powerful witch. The Warlock behind you is known as Luka. And the beautiful human specimen leaning against the wall goes by the name After."

Oberon spoke with a heavy Opava accent. His English was saturated with rolling r's and quick short syllables. Oberon's black horns were extremely long, the tips beginning to curl inwards. It was an indication of his status as a Warlock, and his skill.

          Gunnar shifted, recognizing the Warlock before him as an advanced wielder of magic. His fingertips glowed with intense heat. A small red charge of fire began to crackle in-between his fingers.

          Oberon unplugged a wire inside of the bot and unscrewed the command sector, pulling it out. "If you do not calm yourself young Dragon, you will burn us all to the ground," Oberon lifted his eyes for the first time, meeting Gunnar's.

          "I told you not to hire a Dragon Oberon," the panther said. "They are unpredictable."

          "And I told you brother," Oberon said calmly. "That you do not have an opinion. Your actions have complicated matters."

          Fynn grinned, his long pink tongue falling past ivory teeth. "It was worth it."

          "I'm sure it was, but now I have to undo it," Oberon said and set down the command sector. Oberon stood up and faced Gunnar. "Tell me Dragon, do you know who Ceres is?"

          Gunnar flexed his fingers, trying to keep his fire in check. "I don't care about politics."

          Oberon clasped his hands. "You should. Her new sanctions will not only affect the Warlocks but will impact clan Dragon as well. Are you aware that she is designing iron clad gloves for you to wear? They lock, around the wrist, and will prevent you and your kind from summoning fire. The Dragons will be shackled. As for us, her new laws prohibit my kind from performing magic, of any kind. Breaking these laws will result in immediate execution without trial."

          "I'd like to see the humans try," Gunnar said.

          "Ah, yes. Fight. Of course, we would fight back. And the city would descend into civil war. And the humans would unleash their combat-bots. They know our weaknesses young Dragon. Each of our weaknesses. Don't they, After?"

          The woman nodded, "There is a bot designed for each species. You wouldn't live to see the morning, kid."

          Gunnar studied her more closely, noticing the dog tags that were nestled in between her plump breasts.      

          "The Warlocks have been carefully monitoring the situation. We have someone to take her place, an elected official that is sympathetic to all the species that reside in Vanda. Someone who will show leniency, allow us to live in peace. A plan was set in place. However, that plan now must be accelerated."

          Gunnar eyed the bot lying facedown on the table. "You stole a combat bot from the human army."

          Oberon nodded. "Yes. And you will reprogram it. With the sole purpose of assassinating Ceres."

          Luka laughed. "The little lizard is observant."

          "I prefer the term Dragon, although if you want to be technically correct you could use the word Dreohonys," Gunnar said. "I'll allow it."

          Luka spit in Gunnar's direction. "Do you think your funny, fire scum?"

          Gunnar raised one shoulder. "Actually, yes. When I'm not reprogramming, I perform stand up for The King of the Ghouls. He loves my jokes. Especially the ones about Opava whores. I hired one last night. Grabbed her horns while she sucked my hot dragon dick."

          "You vile little reptile!" Luka roared. The Warlock took a step forward, rage in his green eyes. Gunnar spun, fire pooling in his hands.

          "Enough!" Oberon yelled. The small room crackled with a wave of magic. Papers and small miscellaneous items flew into the air, the walls bowing. "Luka, take a walk, now!"

           Luka growled in frustration but followed Oberon's command immediately, flinging open the door and then slamming it shut. The wave of magic receded and the items that had been suspended in the air dropped to the floor.

          Oberon cleared his throat. "Now, Gunnar."

          Gunnar faced the Warlock but kept the fire blazing in his hands.

          "I wish to speak plainly to you," Oberon said. "I am aware that you have left the protection of clan Dragon and have disassociated with the King. I am guessing it had something to do with Sagan contracting your little sister out to the Vampires?"

          Gunnar gritted his teeth. "How did you-"

          Oberon held up a hand. "Please, I do not bring this up to upset you. I investigate the backgrounds of all my associates, I'm sure you understand. The Vampires are a huge problem and becoming more intolerable every day. And they have a thing for female dragons, don't they?" Oberon laughed quietly. "Well, the Dragons are not the only ones fed up with the Vampires. They are encroaching on us all. The King of the Ghouls has assured me that the Vampires will be dealt with. That is, if my clan deals with Ceres. This transaction will benefit you, young Dragon. For one- now that you do not have the protection of your clan, you cannot allow someone like Ceres to place iron gloves on you. How will you protect Zephyr without the use of fire? How will you protect yourself? No, Ceres must be dealt with. And secondly- your fee. I will pay you handsomely."

          "The money is useless if I'm dead," Gunnar said. "Stealing or manipulating any piece of human technology is a direct violation of article 215. It's an automatic death sentence. The money isn't worth it. Besides, this will take hours, if not days. I would have to completely rewire the master processing mainframe."

          Oberon smiled. "Yes, I'm aware. And for your efforts, I will offer you protection. Do this task and you will obtain asylum within clan Warlock. Your sister will also be extended this courtesy."

          "You can do that?" Gunnar asked.

          "Yes," Oberon replied.

          "And what's your stake in this?" Gunnar asked After.

          "I have my reasons," she said. "Which are between me and Oberon."

          Oberon pointed at Gunnar. "This is why I wanted a Dragon. Natives to Earth. A clan that is misinterpreted, even underestimated. Leather jackets. Bikes. Martial arts. Brutal force and fire that deals in narcotics and premium opium. But the Dragons are smart. Sagan is a businessman ensuring his people are well trained in all areas of the modern world. Your clan members know human law and are also required to have a full education in technology, including reprogramming."

          "We're also vegetarians," Gunnar said.

          Oberon smiled. "So, I've heard."

          Gunnar studied the bot on the table. He knew exactly what type it was, down to the model number. He knew he could reprogram it. Hacking into human technology was standard Dragon operation. It allowed them to import and export drugs into the country without detection. But Gunnar had taken to his artificial intelligence studies like a fish to water. It interested him and he was considered an expert within his clan.

…. Ex-clan that is.

          "Well?" Oberon asked.

          "I'll do it," Gunnar said. "But I'm going to need a few things."

*

Loud music flooded the small space.

          "What is this noise?" Oberon grumbled.

          "It's Dragon metal and it helps me think," Gunnar said. He was hunched over the bot, working on rewiring the master processing mainframe. Thankfully the Warlocks were wonderfully prepared for the undertaking. They had gathered the necessary equipment, including a specialized laptop containing a programing system that was hyperlinked to the robot's mainframe.

          Fynn leaned forward, paws on the table. "Is it true they are autonomous?"

          "Yes," Gunnar answered.

          "So, they are in fact self-aware…. what governs their decisions then? Couldn't they choose to disobey your commands?" Fynn asked.

          "This little piece of plastic that I'm trying to reprogram," Gunnar replied with irritation. "So, can you please shut up? And let me focus? I'd rather not get murdered today by a combat bot."

          "And what is the lettuce for?" After chimed in.

          "In case I get hungry!" Gunnar snapped. "Oberon if you want this done right, you think you and your people can give me some space?"

          "That's a wonderful idea," Oberon said, rubbing his temples. "I cannot take another moment of this clamor. Let us share an ale together. I'll pour some in a bowl for you Fynn," Oberon laughed.

          "That's hilarious," Fynn said, jumping onto the floor.

          Gunnar watched them all walk out, only getting back to work once the door was closed. Gunnar plugged two cables into the Bot. One went into the command center and the other connected directly to the Mpm. He then plugged the other ends into the laptop.

          "Okay, let's see what your made of," he said.

Gunnar's fingers were a blur over the keyboard. First, he examined what the bot had originally been programmed for. His eyes went back and forth as he processed the information downloading before him.

"Military operations, field A.I., designed for high impact blah blah blah," Gunnar began typing, bypassing security walls. The military had an entire fleet of field bots. Human soldiers never touched the ground. Soldiers were able to hyper-link directly into the bots MpM. Wars had been won and lost at the hands of combat bots, with military personal in the driver's seat. This bot had most likely travelled to other planets and fought in dozens of intergalactic wars.

Gunnar worked steadily for several hours, his mind in hyperdrive. He examined the code, keeping what he wanted and discarding the rest. That was the easy part. Rewriting command code was the challenging part. The most time consuming. Before starting, he leaned back and pressed his comm.

"Zephyr, you there?" he said.

Her voice rang in his ear. "Shit Gunnar, its been hours! Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said. "This job is going to take longer than I expected. It's a total rewrite."

"What do you mean? What are you rewriting?"

"It's better if I leave you out of the specifics. But listen, this is going to be a game changer for us. The Warlocks are offering us protecting in exchange for this job."

Zephyr fell silent.

"Zephyr, did you hear me?" Gunnar asked.

"Yeah…. I heard you," she said.

"And?" Gunnar said.

"I don't know if we can trust them, that’s all," Zephyr answered.

"I don't know if we have much of a choice," Gunnar said. "Without a clan… we'll be lucky if we make it another six months."

She exhaled. "I know."

"At least you will be a free agent. The Warlocks don't force their women into the sex trade," Gunnar said.

"No, the Opava witches do it willingly. For political gain. That's even better," she said dryly. "Bewitching dicks."

Gunnar chuckled.

"I trust you," Zephyr said. "If you think this is the right move, I'm in."

Gunnar's stomach twisted. It was his decisions that got them into this predicament in the first place. He had literally dragged Zephyr out of the vampire club, burning the entire place down in the process. He had also turned some very important Vampires to dust. Sagan had been furious but offered leniency in exchange for Gunnar's compliance with the contract Sagan had arranged with the Vampires…. for female dragon entertainment. That included his little sister. Gunnar couldn't stomach it. He couldn't allow it. So, he left the clan, and took his sister with him. They could never go back and would be forever branded as deserters.

He swallowed hard. "Stay put and pack our things in the process. I will come get you when this is finished."

"Okay," she said. "Be careful."

Gunnar clicked off his comm and got to work on the new code, munching on lettuce as he typed. Oberon would pop in on occasion to check on his progress, leaning in to examine what Gunnar was working on. Gunnar didn't like his close proximity in these moments. An uncomfortable static of magic emanated from the Warlock. It made Gunnar's skin break out in goose flesh.

Writing new code for an A.I. was a tedious process, but Gunnar was meticulous and maintained a holy level of concentration. In exactly 72hrs, Gunnar finished and closed the control panel on the back of the bot. TR0215, known by the name Henrik, had been successfully reprogrammed.

Gunnar's last task was to connect the team's comm's for the mission. He also listed Oberon as primary command leader. Before bringing the bot online, he pressed his comm, pinging Oberon's with a message that the job was done. Gunnar sat quietly, eating the rest of the crispy romaine lettuce as he waited.

After a few moments, the door opened, and Oberon and his people filed in.

"Right," Gunnar said, standing up. "He's ready. I took out a lot of shit that you don't need or want, for example the code instructing him to report to his military supervisors every six hours. In fact, I removed most of his governing constructs. He is pretty much rogue as far as the U.S. military is concerned, and his tracker has been disabled. I rewrote a new series of constructs, assigning Oberon as command leader. His tactile and battle programming is fully intact as well as his security programming. So, if you wanted to use him as a body guard or whatever, you can. All association or loyalty with the human military has been severed. Essentially, you now own a killing machine that will obey your commands, Oberon."

Oberon's green eyes sparkled with delight. "Bring him online. I would very much like to meet him."

Gunnar nodded and typed in a sequence of code and then hit enter.

Henrik immediately got up, pushing himself off the table. He stood in one fluid motion and faced the group. The combat bot's imposing frame was coated with a layer of human flesh. Henrik was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and military pants. His eyes were brown, the same shade as his short hair. Dog tags gleamed on his muscular chest.

Gunnar scanned the laptop, monitoring Henrik's responses to the new code. Everything looked good.

"Which of you is Oberon?" Henrik asked in a thundering voice.

"I am Oberon," Oberon said. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Henrik stepped forward, his footsteps heavy. The combat bot loomed over the Warlock. "I don't need your pleasantries. Who do you want killed?"

Oberon grinned, the smile stretching his face, pulling on his eyebrows. It wasn't a pleasant sight. Gunnar shivered, thinking he looked like the devil himself.

"Luka. After. Brink the van around," Oberon instructed. "Henrik, I will fill you in on the drive."

          "Where are we going?" Henrik asked.

          "The human district," Oberon answered. "Gunnar, you are coming along as well. Gather the equipment."

          Gunnar's heart sank, although he had anticipated the request. He grabbed the laptop and a few back up cables and followed Oberon and his group out into the rainy night.

                                                *

Fynn sat perched upright in the seat directly next to Gunnar, paws on the leather seats, pink tongue dangling past his ivory teeth. Fynn's breath brushed against Gunnar's face in steady intervals. Gunnar's nose flared. Fynn's breath reeked of beer and something else that was sour.

"Can you breathe with your mouth closed?" Gunnar said.

The panther regarded him with luminous green eyes. "Sure, I'll close my mouth...around your neck."

           "No wonder that witch cursed you," Gunnar said. "Your annoying as hell."

"Fuck you," Fynn snarled.

"Shut up. Both of you," After snapped. "We are approaching the Human district."

After sat next to Henrik, directly across from Gunnar and Fynn. They were in a black military van, with seats on either side of the cargo hold. Luka was driving. Oberon occupied the passenger seat, his expression hard.

Gunnar couldn't help himself. He leaned forward, gazing through the window like an awestruck child. He had never been inside the human district. His kind weren't allowed.

Skyscrapers rose into the dismal sky, glittering windows and pastel lights swathed in gloom. Air traffic was organized in neat rows, the cars luxurious and bright, like cherries dangling in between the buildings. Glamorous three-dimensional ads flicked across elaborate billboards; the products projected in a sparkling larger than life display.

"How is it that Vampires and Ghouls are permitted within the human district?" Gunnar asked.

"Because they are demons of lust," Fynn answered. "They could seduce God himself and stroll into heaven."

The van entered a concrete tunnel, plunging its occupants into sudden shadow.

After's voice slid out of the dark. "We are approaching the gate. I'll say it one last time. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Or I'll shut it for you."

Gunnar heard the slid of an automatic pistol pull back; the safety clicked off.

Oberon chuckled. "Play nice, After."

"I'd listen to him," Gunnar said. "I can't control my fire if there's a bullet in me. I hear human skin burns fast, like candle wax."

Fynn laughed, sending another wash of sour breath against Gunnar's face.

Gunnar adjusted his position, so he could look through the front windshield. Ahead was an impressively large steel gate, surrounded by a cement wall. Flashing orange lights spun, periodically filling the van. Signs were posted at regular intervals. They all displayed the same message.

Humans only. All sub-species will be executed on sight.

"Now," After said.

Oberon began chanting as Luka eased the van to a halt in front of a massive guard post. The hot static of magic filled the inside of the car.

A human guard approached. Gunnar shifted uncomfortably.

Luka handed the guard an identification card. "Edward Vandeven, military ID number 0078241," Luka recited. "82nd command, robotic infantry division."

A second guard stepped forward, clicking on a scanner. Blue lasers spread across the vehicle, mapping its contents. Oberon's chanting increased, green light sparking at the tips of his black horns.

The first guard clicked on his comm, reporting the information to a third party.

Gunnar was on the edge of his seat, his palms coated with sweat.

The scanner device dinged in the second guards' hands. A computer voice emitted from its small speakers. "Sub-species detected. Unidentified combat bot detected. Action response required."

The guard smiled. "All clear. Let me just wipe the memory on this..."

He punched in a view buttons, and then pressed his fingertip to the interface.

"Memory log deleted," the computer stated.

The first guard handed Luka back the ID card. "You're all set Sgt. Vandeven. And thank you for your service."

Luka nodded. "It's my pleasure, ass hat."

The guard nodded. "Very well. Pull forward."

Oberon's chanting gradually slowed, eventually ceasing as they entered the narrow but pristine city streets.

Gunnar sat back, baffled.

"It's amazing what we can accomplish if we work together," Fynn said.

"Fucking hell," Gunnar said.

"Snap out of it lizard," After said. "Turn on the laptop."

"Take a right here," Oberon instructed. "She's in the Azul Bathhouse."

"How luxurious," Luka grumbled.

"Who is the target?" Henrick asked.

"Gunnar will send you the file," Oberon said. "Upload this to his mainframe please." Oberon had a small mobile comm in hand.

Gunnar opened the file and sent it to Henrick.

The combat bot became still, silently processing the information. After a few minutes he said, "Ceres Alexander, 46-year-old female, confirmed execution."

"Eliminate the target and return to the van," Oberon said.

"Understood," Henrick responded.

Luka parked across the street from a tall sleek building, composed almost entirely of glass.

"Luka and After, position yourselves around the perimeter," Oberon instructed. "Gunnar and I will monitor Henrik from here. Be discreet. All of you."

Luka cut the engine and stepped out, pulling a hood over his horns. After and Henrik exited the van, the back doors closing with an ominous thud.

Oberon climbed into the back with Gunnar and took a seat on the other side of him.

"Tap into his visual field. I want confirmation of the kill," Oberon said.

Gunnar did as he was asked. A video feed appeared on the screen. Gunnar, Oberon and Fynn were able to see everything from Henrik's direct point of view.

"Humans live side by side with bots," Oberon stated as he watched the feed. "His presence in the bathhouse should go unnoticed."

Gunnar nodded, opening a new window beside the live video feed. He accessed Henrik's thought processing center so he could survey his emotional reactions. Gunnar then linked up to the Mpm, incase he had to over-ride command at any point. Gunnar clicked on the audio as Henrik opened Azul's crystal blue front door.

"Good Evening." A young attractive receptionist said with a smile. "Welcome to Azul. How can I help you?"

Henrik didn't respond. He walked around the desk, silently. He quickly grabbed the girl, one hand clasped over her mouth. She screamed but the sound was nothing but a panicked muffle. In one swift motion, the combat bot snapped her neck.

"Why did he do that?" Oberon asked. "She posed no threat."

Gunnar examined Henrik's thought processing center.

"Shit," Gunnar said.

"What?" Oberon asked.

"He's blocking my access," Gunnar responded, typing frantically.

The video feed showed Henrick lowering the girl's body to the floor, concealing it behind the desk.

"What does that mean?" Oberon asked.

"Just give me a second," Gunnar growled.

"He's on the move," Fynn said.

Henrik expertly navigated through the bathhouse, having already surveyed the buildings schematics. Henrik had also pulled Ceres's past billing statements, identifying the bath she commonly frequented. Henrik wove through the dimly lit corridors at a brisk pace, descending a flight of stone steps that led into an intimate grotto. Dozens of humans lounged in the turquoise water, holding drinks in copper cups.

"Gunnar," Oberon said.

Gunnar continued typing, rapidly toggling between programs but the moment he clicked on anything, he hit a wall, as if the bots entire processing center had been sucked into a black hole. And then, one message scrolled across his feed.

Target Acquired.

"He found her," Gunnar said.

Oberon, Fynn, and Gunnar fell silent, their eyes glued to the feed. Gun fire erupted on the audio, the automatic weapon whirring in a nonstop spray of bullets. Henrik killed Ceres first, unleashing at least a dozen shots into her body. Her delicate flesh exploded like ripe fruit, the ammo tearing through vital organs. She barely had time to scream. The other humans occupying the bath jumped out of the bloody water, yelling in a frenzied panic. Henrik continued to fire, mowing them down.

"Over-ride him Gunnar!" Oberon demanded.

"Why the fuck is he killing them all?" Fynn said. "Nice work dragon, you broke our combat bot."
          Wild screaming and breaking glass crackled over the audio as Henrik continued his bloody rampage.

Oberon got on his comm. "Luka, After, intercept him!"

Gunnar kept typing; his jaw clenched as he attempted to find a back door into Henrik's system.

"You fried him," Fynn said.

"It's nothing I did!" Gunnar's eyes sped across the screen, widening. "I don't believe it. He rewrote his own code."

"When?" Oberon asked.

"On the ride over here," Gunnar said, shocked.

"Fix it fire scum!" Fynn snarled.

Gunnar's palms burned with heat. "There's nothing I can do! He's completely autonomous. All connection has been severed!"

The sound of gunfire stopped. After a few moments of silence, Henrik's voice rose on the audio feed. "I am no longer the human's war machine. Do not pursue me. The target's assassination is payment for my freedom. I have no quarrel with you. Stand down."

Oberon pressed his comm, addressing Henrik. "Why did you kill the other humans?"

"Humans will pay for what they have done to us," Henrik responded. "Tonight is only the beginning. Stand down. I am not interested in you or your people."

After appeared in the feed, her weapon raised at Henrik. She stood in front of the entryway, blocking Henrik's exit.

"Halt!" she yelled.

"After! Abort! We are no longer in control!" Oberon shouted into his comm.

A shot rang out. After had fired, aiming between Henrik's eyes. Henrik dodged the bullet, his movements frighteningly fast. He caught her by the throat, lifting her off the ground. A blade ejected from the inside of the bot's left forearm. Henrik shoved the blade into After's chin. It slid into her skull with a wet crunch.

Oberon pressed his comm. "Luka, do not approach him."

"That's a fucking copy," Luka replied. "What in the fuck is happening?"

"Locate the back exit, we will meet you there," Oberon said.

"Can't you use magic or something?" Gunnar asked. "A spell?"

"Magic doesn't work on artificial life forms boy," Oberon said, sliding open the van door. Henrik had exited the building and was staring at the van. After's body was at his feet, her lifeless form holding the door open. Police sirens pierced the night.

Oberon and Henrik stared at each other for the space of a few moments. The combat bot waited, allowing the Warlock to decide between life or death. Oberon inclined his head and then closed the van door.

"Gunnar, get in the driver's seat. We will pick up Luka and leave the district from the South," Oberon said.

"What the fuck Oberon! We can't just unleash a rogue combat bot on the humans!" Gunnar yelled.

"It's not our problem," Oberon stated calmly.

"But…" Gunnar stammered.

"If you want the protection of clan Warlock you will get in that seat and drive the van." There was the hint of warning in Oberon's voice.

Gunnar glanced out the window. Henrik was running, so fast he became a blur of color, quickly disappearing into the rainy night. What could Gunnar do to stop an autonomous combat bot?

Nothing, he thought. There were no options other than ripping out his Mpm by brute force. Getting anywhere near the control panel would be damn near impossible. Gunnar thought of Zephyr, picturing her big brown trusting eyes and blonde hair that framed her sweet face like golden heather. What had the humans ever done for them?

Nothing.

Gunnar climbed into the driver's seat. He pulled the van onto the road, glancing at After's dead body. Her blood mingled with the rain. The red fluid gathered into a puddle and then ran down the sidewalk in a crimson streak. Gunnar turned his attention to the road, guiding the van to the back of the building.

The humans were about to get a violent reckoning. But Gunnar had managed to gain asylum for himself and his sister within clan Warlock. In his mind, it was a fair trade. He grinned, thinking of the hot meal that waited.

End.