Faraway
Table of Contents
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91Chapter 27
Somewhere in secret, Santo Lettieri, a handsome man in a black suit, sat on his comfortable couch as his eyes held no mirth of joy or sadness but the seriousness of a man who was losing control. The living room was elegant and classy, and paintings were hanging behind him like icons of the past, reminding him of the history he's been a part of.
The lingering silence of the room was a grim reminder of what they all got themselves when he accepted the offer to take part in giving the necessary resources to those fools.
Sitting before him is another man, younger than him in appearance, with the name Drake. A man with a face that could charm the skirts off any ladies if they weren't extinct already, his brown hair and blue eyes were a stark contrast to the gloom and darkness that the room seemed to hold.
He wore clothing that was a mix of casual and business, a combination that was both professional and comfortable. His posture was relaxed, his arms resting on the armrests of the chair. However, both of them know they have no time to delay their chat.
"Santo," Drake said with slight nervousness in his voice, "we never have thought that our organization would become at stake by those brats," cursing himself for giving them the weapons and men to Elvis; he shouldn't have trusted them in the first place; "they were wild cards."
He thought letting them do what they please out of the mere kindness of their hearts would help them in the long run, "but it seems they have gone too far," he said, sighing heavily, his eyes narrowing as he tried to think of a solution.
"Those thinking machines will eventually find our operation after their investigation; it is going to be a matter of time until we are forced to disband," he continued, the weight of the words heavy in the air as they both knew the truth in what he said: "We won't be able to process holding a trading business outside of the Ark; the angeloids are going to start hunting us one by one."
Clenching his teeth, Drake is holding the inner turmoil of having to accept this fact. And it is hurting him to his core that it is all coming crashing down because of bunch of morons they found to be amusing and entertaining in aiding their nonsensical ambitions.
All of their trading and collecting of valuable artifacts or items outside of the Ark is going to shambles. Both men were secretly fuming at the thought that their hard work in the past dozens of years was going to waste.
The anger and stress from the situation were recognizable in the room; the tension was so high that it was almost physical. Drake wanted to puke because of it but was unable to when he was having a conversation with his respected superior. Manners are the most important social trait to have.
Letting out a long sigh, Santo briefly closed his eyes for a moment. "Who killed those brats?" Opening them, he asked once more, with his gaze focused on the younger man before him, "Its the Esper. You and I know that when the news broke out, but who is it?"
While their trading operation is going to collapse into pieces, they can at least avenge their organization by finding the person responsible. It will be satisfying revenge in their twisted minds. No one messes with their money and influence over the city.
Drake smiled gleefully at the notion, "You wouldn't believe how happy I am for you to say that." Taking out his photo from his pockets, he handed it over to his superior with a glint in his eye. "Here, someone in Elvis's friends managed to take a photo before the poor kid's demise."
Finding comfort that they would get their revenge of some sort, he let out a small chuckle, a sign of relief from the heavy burden on his shoulders." Once we find him, I will make sure we are going to put a bullet in his brain before we torture him, of course," cackling like a madman.
"Hmm?" Looking at the photo, Santo saw a clear person, Sunny, playing a nonexistent violin in the night."This is him?" Intrigued, he never would have guessed that the wanted criminal responsible for the mass killing was just an ordinary guy who doesn't look out of place; in fact, the brat appears to not mind the chaos around him, enjoying whatever music is playing in those little earphones.
"He must be a psychopath to not even bat an eye to all that death and carnage," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Snickering in response, Drake nodded. "Too bad we have to kill him," he said, slightly saddened by it. "He would have been a good recruit. Some of the Espers in our organization are a little lazy and weak, so to learn he killed them without seemingly no effort is both amazing and terrifying all at once."
The two men shared a knowing glance; the weight of their world had shifted on the slender shoulders of a young man they'd never met. "All of us are more than ready to kill him, but what do you suggest we do with the other groups residing across the city?"
Crumbling the photo in his hands, Santo threw it at the other side of the room. "Has everyone seen the photo?" He asked, his tone of voice dark and dangerous, "Every available body of our organization needs to know who they are going to kill."
The icy chill in his eyes was enough to send a shiver down the spines of those who dare to cross him. "I want them dead first. After that, we kill anyone who associates with that little shit." With a wicked grin forming on his lips, he leaned back in his chair.
Blinking multiple times, Drake nodded with hesitation, "Yeah! The entire organization has seen what he looks like. The only problem is—"
Suddenly, the door leading outside of this room was opened, showing a bloody man dragging himself towards them. The injured subordinate held his ground despite wanting to collapse in front of them, gasping for air as he tried to speak from the horror he had experienced that resulted in his being critically injured out of nowhere, as if some unknown force had taken him down.
Several visible cuts and bruises were evident on his face and body; the blood stained his white shirt and the floor beneath him. "It's coming for us!" The hoarse voice of the man trembled with fear, his eyes wide in terror. "It is going to bring judgment upon us all."
The last word was barely audible, his strength rapidly leaving him as the other two, who were sitting on their couches, quickly stood up from theirs and rushed towards him with confusion as well as worry about what was happening.
"Who?! Who's here?!" Drake demanded, grabbing the injured subordinate without taking care of his fellow colleague's injuries, "Tell us what the hell is going on out there! Is it that Esper?!" He desperately asked, his eyes darting from the wounded man to Santo.
The panic in his eyes was evident as he tried to understand the threat that was looming above them. Just seeing how their peaceful meeting came to an abrupt end was a complete shock to him, including his respected superior, who also shared the same look as himself.
Trying to speak through the pain, the man's voice was a rasp: "Not a Esper...not even human...!" The foreboding sentence echoed in his last few words in a combination of fear.
Drake and Santo exchanged a look of dread and confusion. "Karma...judgement, its coming for us," the man gritted out, his eyes going vacant as he lost consciousness, the life draining from his body before a wide smile formed on his lips, "were all going to fucking die! AHAHAA!" Then his head exploded into a gory mess; the sight itself was gruesome in equal measure.
"SHIT!"
Disgusted by having blood over his clothing, Drake was upset at the fact that he had gotten himself dirty from the mess that was the man's corpse. His eyes went wide in disbelief. "And what the hell is that lunatic mumbling about? Karma coming for us? What a crazy bastard!"
Shaking his head in denial, he tried to focus on the task at hand: "We still have to find and eliminate him first. We can't let that brat continue to bring misfortune upon our organization," he said, his voice laced with anger and determination as he turned to his superior.
"Santo Lettieri?"
Looking down at the corpse, Santo stared at it with his eyes. The immense fear coming from his own heart is beginning to show on his face. Something is wrong, very wrong, and unnatural about the situation. He never would have expected something like this to happen in his presence.
"Drake, we need to get out of here." The fear in his voice was undeniable as he spoke. "Now," he said. The urgency in his voice was evident as he made his way to the door, only to hear more screams coming from the hallway.
Exiting their room, the once elegant hallway was suddenly transformed into a gruesome scene, a stark contrast to the refined atmosphere it had held. The dying men, victims of the merciless hand of Karma, lay scattered throughout the corridor, their bodies twisted in agony and despair.
Their once immaculate suits were now stained with blood, a macabre testament to the brutality of the unknown force. Eyes wide with terror, their faces bore a mixture of shock, disbelief, and resignation.
Some of them were still alive, of course, but badly injured, running away from whatever was coming for them as unusual events began to unravel in front of their eyes. Screams echoed through the once serene halls, each a chilling reminder of the chaos that had erupted within their supposed sanctuary.
Objects suddenly flew off the walls and shattered against the floor. The sound of breaking glass and the scent of dust filled the air. All of them are attacking their men as if they had minds of their own.
Loud howling winds hit nearby groups of three fleeing guys, which caused their limbs and heads to twist painfully, killing them instantly. It was a horrific scene, one that would haunt their dreams for the rest of their lives.
Another guy who was blindly shooting everything had his own pistol shattered before his very eyes, the weapon's pieces flying everywhere as they went through several other scared men like bullets through butter. There were so many of their subordinates dying left and right in ways that shouldn't be impossible.
"What the hell is going on?" Drake was at a loss for words; he couldn't understand the situation he found himself in. The once powerful and influential organization was now reduced to a mere dust in the wind; his reasoning mind was failing him as he couldn't grasp the concept of what was happening around him.
"This must be the Esper's doing!" Horrified by the thought of his own words, he took a step back, his mind racing to find a solution to their current problem: "His somewhere here! I just know it!"
Santo can't understand how they are just dying like this; his mind is screaming at him to run, to escape from the very place that was his base of operations.
Yet no matter what, something tells him he can't run or even escape. Nothing can save them from whatever is coming for them. This was his home, his fortress, and now it was turning against him. He felt betrayed by the very walls he had built and the men that he had trusted. Their beloved belongings are all going against him for reasons unknown to him.
Then he saw something coming towards his partner in crime; it was an ordinary white pillow flying to the conflicted Drake, who was currently busy finding the person in all of this.
Instead of warning him or pushing Drake aside, however, he instead let it happen, as he was too curious about what would transpire if he didn't intervene. He wanted to get a better understanding of how the simplest objects can easily kill people without obeying the laws of logic that he knew. Its better in sacrificing others for the sake of his own interests.
"I think I—"
The pillow swiftly struck Drake's face with a sickening thud. The impact sent his entire body falling on his back, flattening his entire head like a pancake, much to Santo's amazement and surprise at seeing the result of a simple pillow.
The once-loyal henchman was now nothing more than a red pulpy mess, his brains leaking out of the back of his head with no hope of recovery in his state. Seeing a soft object turn into a murderous weapon was extremely disturbing to him, making him question if this was all a dream or not.
Before long, the entire hallway had their lights go off while the screams continued throughout the entire building. Santo, despite being shocked by the turn of events, he had already accepted his fate. He knows he is going to die here, but before he does, all he wanted to know was how any of this was possible.
How is the entire universe are going against them because of one person?
As his own sanity began to slip away, a woman's voice spoke through the darkened hallway he was in while everything was still in the midst of chaos.
"Reality is governed by laws that are systematical bound to them," her voice echoed all around him as he continued to listen in anticipation, "when the balance is disturbed, the laws of nature can be turned on their head."
Lifting his eyes, he widens in disbelief of witnessing an arm dressed in black stocking emerge from the darkness, holding the scales of justice with her finger tips as the object moves left and right like a hypnotizing pendulum.
The image of the sight was fuzzy and indistinct, as if Santo were seeing a ghost from the other side. "And it seems you will pay the price for it, Santo Lettieri," a monstrous giggle escaped her voice, terrifying in its own right when confronted by something otherworldly.
"What are you?"
Brief silence ensued, and the woman's voice returned with a mirthful tone. "The balance has been shifted; Karma is coming, bringing death and destruction to those who provoke him," she said, as the sound of breaking bones and screams of agony continued to fill the air.
"Fare well, human; judgment has finally commenced and it is to late to stop it," she whispered, her voice now a cold whisper in the night, before everything went silent as the entire building collapsed into itself, engulfed in a blinding flash of light, the sound of a thousand tons of rubble crashing down drowning out the last gasping breaths of the dying.
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