Genesis (Man vs Machine #1)

26 | EMERGE THE FABLE

The warehouse seemed to grow darker by the second.

It was nothing wrong with his eyes, of course. Around him the atmosphere was surely dimming, enough for him to start to worry.

In front of him was the mask itself. A strange one, like a face that kept rearranging itself into hundreds of others, flicking to a pure black at regular intervals. Marcel's face recognition went haywire, running through every face he'd ever seen and stored in his memory. With an internal groan, he switched every peripheral function off but one – the one that scanned for the link between the chip in his skull and the chip he had ascertained the other man possessed.

When the mask's lips moved, it was nearly imperceptible. But the voice, low and cutting, undeniably came from behind it. There was nothing scrambling the voice. It was smooth, assured, and strangely youthful – Marcel was sure the man was at least fifty.

'Mister Smith. I understand you come alone.'

Though he thought it was strange that this was the opening of their dialogue, he went along. 'Yes.' Grudgingly, he added, 'sir.'

The man grasped the railing, looking away from Marcel's face. A tension he hadn't noticed faded away; the whole time he had been holding eye contact had put him under painful scrutiny. Marcel hadn't been able to see the man's face, but he could feel the stare from under the mask scavenging for any information.

'And the purpose of this rendezvous is to discuss a certain liability, am I correct?'

'Yes, sir.' LINK SUCCESSFUL. SCANNING DATA. He barreled on. 'His name is Lucas Warner.'

The man's hands tightened the barest amount on the railings. 'Yes.'

Marcel blinked slowly, readying himself. DATA LOCATED. RETRIEVING INFORMATION. 'I have information I can give you. What do you want to know?'

RETRIEVED. He continued, unshaken. He knew it would only descend into chaos from here. 'I can tell you of his whereabouts, his associations, his plans.'

TRANSMITTING. The man's composure did not change. His voice betrayed nothing as he spoke. 'I can assure you, Mister Smith, that whatever you can tell me I already know. You have come to me for a different reason.'

Marcel froze. 'Lucas Warner has located the Core.'

He could feel the man smiling. 'There is no Core.'

Somehow, the air had become even darker. Marcel dared to spare a glance at the milky panes of glass that lined the top of the warehouse. Shadows spilled across – shadows from what? There was a shift. He felt in before any of his sensors did.

Panic.

'Mister Smith.' He was sure behind the mask the man's grin was mirthless, predatory. 'It was nice to meet you.' For an instant Marcel glimpsed his face behind the mask – sharp features, glinting gaze – and then it was gone. He felt like the man saw right through him. He knows.

Marcel closed his eyes.

∞

PRESENT

Cress sought out Warner before they disembarked. She knew he would be discussing the plans with Michaelson and James, but she was surprised that Grant was there as well, bent over the small table in the lower deck with the other three.

'Warner,' she called from the stairs.

He looked up. His face immediately relaxed. Slowly, he left the group and made his way over to her.

She swallowed, tried not to break eye contact. A small smile grew on her lips, involuntarily, and she grasped his hand to lead him around the corner, backing into the weapons room. Nobody would intrude for now - most of the weapons had already been taken upstairs, readied for the inevitable combat. They had all seen what happened in Dallas. They expected nothing less.