The Ancient's Vendetta

Chapter 1: Pyotr

Photo by Andrew Tom on Unsplash

Pytor

Pytor’s fingers wrapped the steering wheel in a vice-like grip. The state of his flexed forearms expressed the tension he felt in his clenched jaw. He muttered in annoyance, “why does everything take so long?”, as he began tapping on the steering wheel and revving the car’s engine. 

He impatiently glanced at the wrist watch on his left arm when a calm voice spoke in his earpiece, “you’ve been waiting all of three minutes.”

Pyotr sighed, “has it really only been three minutes?”

Another voice, more jovial, joined the duo’s conversation, with a laugh. “You have no chill, at all.”

Pyotr replied, “I’m the one in the car…bored. I’m sick of sitting, waiting,  and watching. Next time someone else is doing this part. If it were up to me we would have done this job, day one.”

Pyotr, is action incarnate, if the noun had a face, it would be his. He hated waiting. As far as he was concerned, patience was a vice, not a virtue. Especially when the things he wanted were right there for the taking. He didn’t even try to empathize with all these people in the habit of ‘enjoying’ their day. Opportunities weren’t for admiring; if you didn’t take your chance, then you had no right to complain when someone else did.

You eat first, or you don’t eat.

The calmer voice spoke, “three seconds, your timing has to be precise, we won’t get another shot at this.”

The third voice joked, “let’s see how fast you can do this!”

Pyotr counted down from three and then reached over to start the timer on his wrist watch. Then he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car lurched, the engine growled, and the tires shrieked as they skinned the surface of the asphalt. 

“Finally!” Pyotr screamed into his comms. 

He knew the route, he’d driven it a dozen times, and mentally rehearsed it 100 times more. This was a big job and the risk reflected the reward. This was the most expedient way to the building with the vault. There was usually no traffic and there were only two turns, which was perfect, because turns slowed you down. Plus everyone knows, the shortest distance between two points isn’t just a straight line, it’s a straight line and a fast car.  

He accelerated up to 60 mph only slowing slightly to take his first left hand turn. The tires on the right side of the car lifted a few inches off the ground and buzzed lowly, the sound of rubber’s frictionless rotation through the air. 

There was a one mile strip before his right turn, but ¾ of the way there Pyotr slammed on the brakes. A queue of cars blocked his path, and it looked like there were sirens up ahead. He quickly put the car in reverse, went back one street and turned right.

Pyotr stopped the car and slammed the steering wheel in annoyance. He yelled into the comms, “Dead end! Can I get a little help down here…please?”

“What’s going on?”

Pyotr relayed the details about the accident and traffic jam, and how he was now staring at a brick wall, then he waited. He hated waiting.

“Well, let’s go! We’re running out of time, this is taking too long!”, he growled.

The calm voice expressed a hint of frustration, “do you see an alley to your left?”

“Yeah, so…”

“Take it.”

Pyotr complied, but as he took the left hand turn he realized just how tight a fit this alley was for the rigged out Jeep they’d chosen for this little…expedition

“This is a little tight” he spoke into the comms as his face distorted into an image of worry. 

“It’s the best we can do to keep our timing”, the calmer voice spoke, with a recaptured sense of zen. 

Then the third voice cracked a joke, “looks like this will be one of your slowest times yet, P.”

Pyotr delivered an icy retort, “do you have anything helpful to add? If not, do shut up.”

There was no wise crack in return. “So what now?”, he asked.

“Leave the jeep, you’ll have to get into the building through a different entrance, I believe there should be one in sight.”

Pyotr looked and then muttered, “got it”. He exited the jeep through the top and grimaced a bit as he heard the hood of the car groaning under the weight of his boots. He jumped down and made his way to the building. When he reached the door he grabbed the handle, but it wouldn’t budge, “this door’s locked fellas.”

The two men on the other end of the comms shared a glance, then the witty one said, “okay all joking aside, that door isn’t alarmed, I figured that out during recon the other day, bonus points for contingency planning. You’re good to go.”

Pyotr shrugged, took a deep breath and quietly crunched the metal handle as he exhaled.

He slowly opened the door to reveal the silhouette of a guard looking the opposite direction. He silently crept up behind the man and gave him a gentle, but effective, hammer punch to the back of the head. 

As he lowered the body to the ground he quietly spoke into his comms, “so far so good”. Pyotr stepped into the building and quietly closed the door behind him. He clicked a button on his watch and a projection of the building’s blueprint flashed into the air in front of him.

Pyotr’s position was highlighted by a blinking red dot, and his objective was plotted in green. 

“Looks like it's almost a straight shot only a couple of turns ahead. Am I doing good on time, are there any updates on your end?”

There was no reply. Pyotr cursed and then started slowly down the hall. The deeper he moved into the building the more his projection flickered. Which was a little disconcerting, he wasn’t certain which way he was going, if he lost his map… 

When the projection flipped off completely the hallway went pitch black and Pyotr’s cadence slowed as he tried to navigate the darkness. There must have been a hallway off to his right and for some reason there seemed to be less light down that direction. Pyotr stared for a moment looking for something he sensed, but couldn’t see. Concerned for time, he shook his head and continued down the hall.

Ping, the sound of metal on bone resonated through the building's chambers.

A sharp pain on the back of his head, was immediately followed by dizziness and a throbbing sensation. He stood there dazed as a warm liquid dripped on the back of his collar and worked its way around the neckline of his shirt. He knew he was bleeding. 

In a grimace, with his eyes fixed on the floor he dropped to one knee. This vantage point spared him the horror of watching the metal pipe descend like an executioner’s axe for the nape of his neck. As the assailant’s weapon sliced through the air an imperceptible blue hue engulfed Pyotr’s body. His bleeding stopped, the wound’s throbbing subsided, and its pain diminished.

In one motion, Pyotr stood, snatched the pipe, and then grabbed his attacker by their shirt. He lifted the man a foot into the air, and hurled them into a wall that stood 10 feet away. 

Then, Pyotr sprinted. 

The glow increased his natural speed, he reached an intersection of hallways and turned right then screeched to a dead stop. Two hulking figures stood before him, physically menacing, their aura’s corrupting the surrounding air and space. These two possessed an indiscernible glow as well, but theirs was orange. 

A crackle from his comms grabbed his attention, “Pyotr, what’s your status?”

He could hear the other two talking.

“This isn’t good, there’s been way too much silence on his end. We should have tested this new equipment before we sent him down there.”

“Well we’re in the thick of it now, until we hear back from him we have to believe everything is working out.”

Pyotr scrambled to respond, “Hey! All of our tech is glitching down here. Just so you know I’ve had some visitors, and not the ones we expected. Uhh, not really sure what to do here guys?…”

Pyotr curled his hands into fists as the two massive figures lumbered his way.