Epilogue: Two Weeks After the Escape

  Silvanus National Forest, West of Vetera

  Ampelius crouched behind a moss-covered tree while Casper drifted ahead, conducting reconnaissance of a large campsite that housed a suspected target, someone who may bring them one step closer to Dr. Vulcan.

  He didn’t wait long when suddenly a baseball-sized device zipped through the trees, its shifting panels glowing faintly like a mechanical Rubik’s cube. It spun in a wide arc, then boomeranged back, stopping just short of striking him in the face.

  “Alright, what’s the verdict? Tell me about this campsite,” Ampelius said.

  “My scan indicates five armed individuals on the perimeter,” Casper replied, his voice even.

  “A sixth is asleep inside a tent. The five are providing security for the sixth, who is highly likely to be our target. Darkness will favor you once the sun sets.”

  Ampelius drew a curved four-inch blade, admiring the edge as he turned it in his hand.

  “Then let’s wake up this sleeping beauty. I’ve been meaning to test out this knife.”

  “I must advise and remind against killing the target,” Casper warned. “If they die, so does the information we need.”

  Ampelius smirked faintly, sliding the blade back into a reverse grip. “Don’t worry. This one’s reserved for his guards.”

  Ampelius emerged from the tree’s cover and moved toward the camp as Casper soared up and vanished overhead. He was careful not to make too much noise as he approached the camp. It didn’t take long for the first armed sentry to appear. His first potential victim was approaching a bush and preparing to urinate.

  Kneeling next to a large tree trunk with several weeds growing out of it, Ampelius waited a moment, ensuring his victim was out of sight and committed before making the fatal strike. When he was confident they were alone, he readied the 4-inch blade and stealthily came up behind them.

  The smell of a smoldering cigarette emanated from their ill-fitting, threadbare clothes as he drove the blade across the man's throat, leaving them to choke on their own blood as it seeped out. To ensure no one could hear the struggle, Ampelius had to cover his victim’s mouth with his other hand and carefully eased the man to the ground. After a brief struggle, the body finally went limp and was tossed aside as a pool of blood formed on the ground.

  Ampelius scowled down at his first kill without a trace of remorse. A sudden crunch of leaves to his left snapped his focus, and he darted into a cluster of trees just as another armed man came into view. The sentry strolled casually, oblivious that his comrade lay dead only a few steps away. He fished out a cigarette and lighter, sparked it, and took a slow drag, scanning the woods without the faintest idea of the danger closing in.

  His second victim, like the first, was alone and well out of sight of the others. While the man lingered on his smoke break, Ampelius slipped through the shadows until he was directly behind him. Then he struck, lunging like a snake, one hand clamping the man’s head as he yanked backward. The sudden motion rammed the cigarette deep into the man’s mouth as they toppled to the ground together.

  The sentry thrashed, muffled cries breaking against his gagged throat. Ampelius twisted hard, muscles straining, until the neck gave a sharp crack. The body sagged limp in his grasp.

  Shoving the corpse aside, Ampelius rose to his feet. Casper shimmered into view beside him, optics whirring as he swept a scan over the body, lingering on the broken spine and neck.

  “My scan indicates the brain remains intact, though the host is deceased,” Casper reported. His lenses pulsed faintly as he studied the body.

  “This subject may serve as a candidate for a secondary trial. The Puppeteer protocols are proven in combat, but applying them here, on a single corpse, in isolation, would test their effectiveness in covert operations.”

  Ampelius’ gaze lingered on the still body, jaw tight.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Let me finish dealing with the rest of the security first. I don’t want to risk a failed attempt drawing attention.”

  Ampelius crouched low and crept toward a dense clump of bushes as Casper shimmered and vanished above the treeline. To his right, two guards chatted idly beside a massive oak; to his left, another stood alone near a narrow creek. Between them sat the camp itself, a shallow hollow in the forest with a few small tents clustered around a larger one, its smoldering fire casting faint trails of smoke into the night.

  He waited, silent, then made his decision: take the loner first, then loop back and dispatch the other two together. Using every scrap of cover, Ampelius moved closer, careful not to draw the others’ attention.

  When he reached striking distance, he paused. The man was murmuring softly to himself, voice carrying low. Ampelius tightened his grip on the blade—

  The guard suddenly raised a revolver, pressed it to his own temple, and fired. The gunshot cracked like thunder in the forest. The body crumpled to the ground. Smoke curled from the revolver’s barrel. And the echo carried, alerting the entire camp.

  The suicide rattled Ampelius for only a heartbeat, just long enough to hear the pounding boots of the remaining two gunmen closing fast. He had seconds before they were on top of him.

  He snatched up the fallen revolver, swung it toward the first shape breaking through the undergrowth, and fired. The shot slammed into the man’s chest, folding him instantly before he could squeeze his own trigger.

  Ampelius pivoted and fired again, but the second round went wide. The final guard’s shotgun boomed in reply, pellets tearing bark and earth dangerously close. Ampelius steadied his aim, teeth clenched, and fired a third time.

  This one hit true. The guard’s skull burst apart in a spray of red mist, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

  Out of nowhere, a third figure burst from his left, swinging a large knife in a wild arc that missed his face by inches. Ampelius recoiled, stumbling backward onto the ground. Heart hammering, he raised the revolver and fired point-blank.

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  The round tore through the man’s throat, ripping out a wet spray as the guard crumpled forward, collapsing face-first between Ampelius’ legs.

  “Damn it, Casper,” Ampelius muttered, brushing blood off his sleeve. “I thought you said the sixth one was in that big tent.”

  “My scans still detect a fast-beating heart inside the tent,” Casper replied evenly. “This sixth person must have been out of range when I checked earlier.”

  Ampelius glared into the shadows. “Oh, so you were here the whole time? You didn’t notice him sneaking up on me? Didn’t think to warn me?”

  “I only arrived moments ago,” Casper said, tone flat as always. “I hadn’t conducted another scan. Fortunate you had cat-like reflexes.”

  “Yeah. All thanks to your overlords.”

  “They’re not my overlords,” Casper corrected calmly. “They are my creators.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Ampelius stood, brushing dirt from his palms, his jaw tightening.

  Ampelius thumbed open the revolver’s cylinder. Five spent chambers stared back at him; only one round remained. He spun it once, then snapped the cylinder shut with a flick of his wrist and strode toward the largest tent.

  At the entrance, he stopped. Revolver raised, finger tight on the trigger, he stood perfectly still, listening.

  A moment later, the flap shifted. A man stepped out slowly, clad in worn pajamas, a holster dangling loosely from his right hand. His movements were cautious and deliberate, like someone already expected death at any moment.

  Ampelius recognized him instantly. Corvinus. The former Legion Legate Commander of Vetera’s city garrison. His beard was wild and unkempt, his hair long gone gray, and the authority he once carried now looked frayed, ragged, almost broken.

  “Wow. Legion Legate Corvinus?” Ampelius drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Or should I say former Legion Legate? Do you remember me?”

  Corvinus squinted at him, confusion cutting through the weariness on his face. “You look familiar, but… no. Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

  “You don’t remember?” Ampelius’ voice rose with scorn. “I’m the one you called a traitor. The one you tried to have killed after that assault on the Vandal stronghold. I was on that train that crashed into the opposite side. Ringing any bells yet?”

  Corvinus stiffened, eyes widening. “Wait… Ampelius? You’re alive? How did you—”

  “You don’t get the luxury of asking me questions,” Ampelius snapped, stepping closer with the revolver raised. “Casper. Do that scan you’re always bragging about, the one that rips secrets straight from a man’s head.”

  Casper’s projection flickered beside him, tone as flat as ever. “It is not that simple.”

  “I don’t care,” Ampelius growled. “Just do it.”

  A bluish ray of light clung to the ex-Legate as soon as Casper initiated the scan. The beam tightened around his skull, energy crawling into him like needles. Corvinus convulsed, his body seizing violently as the probe burrowed through his mind. Then, as suddenly as it began, the light cut off. The man collapsed to the ground in a shuddering heap.

  “Memory probed,” Casper announced, voice flat. “Stand by while I decrypt the data.”

  Ampelius watched him writhe on the floor, lips curling into a smile. “I suppose I could’ve given you the chance to talk. But, I still remember how you branded me a traitor. Not to mention how you tried to kill me. How I never saw Bella again. Consider this a taste of my resentment.”

  Corvinus groaned faintly, still twitching. Ampelius didn’t look away as Casper’s optics pulsed.

  “Deciphering complete. Information extracted, but its fragmented so bear with me. Firstly, it appears your cousin, Emmett, is alive. He is actually being held within a secured facility in Vetera, like the one we just escaped from. The access point is the tallest skyscraper. Exact details of his condition are limited, as Corvinus only overheard fragments from a superior, who happens to be Dr. Vulcan, the inspector in charge. The conversation suggested plans are imminent, and Emmett is central to them.”

  Ampelius’ eyes narrowed.

  “Secondly,” Casper continued, “Bella. Scheduled for execution as reprisal for your actions. But she disappeared before the sentence was carried out. Her current location is unknown, but assumed to be alive.”

  Ampelius exhaled slowly, a cold grin pulling at his lips. “So. A living cousin, a vanished Bella, and Vulcan right in the middle. Looks like we’ve found our next task, and a new target.”

  He gestured to the carnage around them. “Alright, go ahead and inject the chip into the bodies. I want to see this upgrade you mention in action for myself.”

  As Casper flew off, Corvinus attempted to stand up, but Ampelius kicked him in the knee, bringing him back down. A little later, he heard movement to his right and he couldn't help but stare as one of the bodies suddenly got up in an unusual manner. In an instant, every single corpse, aside from the suicide victim and the guard shot in the head, rose to their feet, and liquid metal poured out from the injection hole, molding and covering their entire face.

  “So, what's this new upgrade?” Ampelius asked.

  "It's really just software, so you might not notice much. However, they should be quieter, faster and stronger. In addition to that, they can grab without fusing the nanotech into whoever is touched."

  This gave Ampelius an idea.

  "Corvinus, stand up and run. I’m giving you a chance to live; if you can get away from me, well, actually, if you can get away from my puppets, you will live. Now go! I'll give you a head start.”

  Without hesitation, Corvinus tried to flee but ended up limping. Ampelius gave the indication to pursue with his right hand after counting to ten. The puppets moved quickly and caught up in a matter of seconds, much like cheetahs. They dragged him back and placed him in front of Ampelius, who was now smiling.

  “Back so soon?” he said mockingly.

  Ampelius looked over his newly formed army, his grin carved deep into his face. They were few in number, but little more than the first sparks of a small fire, but he knew how quickly a fire could spread. Numbers were no obstacle. Not anymore.