Tevun-Krus #72 - Anti-Villain SF

The Holy Oak - A Short Story by @MadMikeMarsbergen

1

Agent 0071 held the wafer under his tongue. He disabled the ship's autopilot and returned his white-knuckled grip to the steering wheel. In about thirty seconds, once the wafer had dissolved, he would suddenly find himself in touch with the Holy Oak: a psychospiritual entity—and royal cunt—worshipped by him and every other citizen of the Royal Empire.

That's how it was supposed to go. And up until this morning he'd been a good little boy who Blessed the Holy fucking Oak ninety-nine billion fucking times a day. Frankly, he was sick of it.

For other reasons. Of course, of course.

The first indication the Holy Oak was coming was the slight prickling in his forearms. He scanned ahead of him while he still could, made sure it was open space before him, enough room to fly—and then he wasn't in his ship any longer, wasn't even in space at all.

She'd taken him to a vast field of tilled soil that went on forever, patches of small green plants growing down each and every turned row. The centre of the entire universe was this massive, knotted, pulsating oak tree in the centre of the field. Its top went up into everything else, became one with all of outer-space. The ground quaked, glowing green through each of the newly made, ever-widening cracks.

0071 headed for the Holy Oak.

"Uh-uh, slow your roll, pal," a woman said from behind.

He turned, preparing his best lady-killing Name's Bland, John Bland, 0071 smirk, eye-fucking the redhead from the toes of her ruby-red shoes to her previously mentioned red head.

"Can the interstellar-spy routine," she said. "I'm Holly, head of Customer Outreach for Holy Oak Enterprises. We understand you have some kind of complaint?"

"Yeah," 0071 said, pulling out his heavily modified pistol. "Tell the Holy Oak She can fuck off. The Royal Empire isn't interested in Her rule any longer."

"Is this about Karter?" Holly asked.

"A wee bit. He was my best mate, after all. Good bloke, black. And because he was black, he couldn't become 0071—despite getting scores twice as high as mine. How is that right? Our boss, I, he said he couldn't do tinker's dick because he had a boss of his own who wrote all the rules. Your boss. The Holy fucking Oak."

"We understand your complaint, John, and We hear you. But this is about more than a job for Karter, isn't it?"

0071 laughed, scratched his stubbled cheek with the extended barrel of his unparalleled sidearm. "You would say that, wouldn't you. Well, yes, as a matter of fact, Karter was fucking killed on the ride over here! A carjacking! In broad daylight on a Saturday, while stuck in traffic in downtown London! Right after we both got bloody promotions, too... That fucking alien with the giant nose-ring opened the passenger door, shot Karter in the fucking chest and said, 'Gimme yer car, mate,' then did a fucking runner! He didn't even try to steal the car! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" His scream echoed out in visible soundwaves, alternating blue and pink with the changing frequencies of their vibrations.

"We understand your complaint, John, and We hear you. Holy Oak Enterprises always strives to—"

"No," 0071 said, "you don't understand," and he shot Holly in the head.

The world changed for him then.

It flipped.

He wasn't in the field any longer, but he wasn't in his ship, either.