Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) (9 page)

The additional vulgarities locked his mind straight to the source. Meryl had completely enveloped herself in this Onyx character that she couldn’t stop speaking like her even with her partner’s life on the line. Michael shook off the cobwebs coating his brain and began to realize the tone Meryl used was off, or rather, different. Her next words confirmed his hypothesis.

“So help me God if you lose this fight, I’ll never fucking forgive you.”

Those words took a beat out of Michael’s heart. It wasn’t what she said; it was how she said it. That level of concern masked behind vulgarity could only come from one place. Meryl had stepped into the driver’s seat that time, not Onyx. The added risk of blowing their cover wasn’t even a concern. Her soft brown eyes were locked onto his beaten frame trying to inspire confidence and hope. That was exactly what he needed to hear.

Infused with his partner’s lavish sentiments, Michael picked himself off the ground and prepared to continue this fight. He couldn’t let his partner down and certainly not after she agreed to wear that hideous outfit.

As he stood to face the raging behemoth, Michael could think of only one technique that would subdue the beast in his drug induced state like the Russian monster he battled beforehand. The only way Ryoo would go down permanently is if he attacked and destroyed his heart. Unlike his battle at A.N.K.H. Pharmaceuticals, Michael didn’t have access to his kodachi but in this case, it didn’t matter. His bout with the assassin Kaze Kunimoto reminded him that if a weapon was unavailable then one could be created.

Ryoo charged once more letting out a disgusting roar. His damaged arm flew wildly behind exposing a key part of his body Michael intended to exploit. However, doing so would be a risk in and of itself. Michael only hoped that Ryoo’s previous attack depleted some of excessive strength. Standing up to a similar blow would test the extent of Michael’s enhanced DNA. Something he only experienced a handful of times before but always lived to regret.

The distance between both combatants dwindled in the blink of an eye. Ryoo cocked his mighty right fist back and prepared to unleash every last bit of energy reserved in his system. The moment of reckoning was at hand. His arm burst forward aimed square at the target’s defiant skull. It traveled beautifully like a surface to air missile ready to annihilate a population of tired and helpless beings. Explosion was imminent. Ryoo felt a light tickle the corner of his eye. This was the moment he had desired. Vengeance would taste delicious.

Shocks vibrated throughout Ryoo’s core. The feedback of his punch must have been immense. However, knuckles did not sample the soft tissues of flesh. A sharp pain in his wrist told Ryoo countless abhorrent lies. His eyes confirmed that of which he thought never possible. The most powerful and devastating punch in the world was not only stopped, but caught dead in its tracks inches away from the targeted bombing area. For the first time this evening, the hollers of the crowd fell deathly silent as they watched the undefeated Korean champion become humbled in a matter of seconds.

Staring back at him, with that cold, grim, and emotionless demeanor he detested, Michael Madison had taught Ryoo Myung-Dae the finer lessons of intimidation. Fear would have had an opportunity to creep in but all thoughts were immediately subsided with a new level of suffering.

Michael launched his free hand straight into Ryoo’s chest. Ribs cracked in utter defiance to the FBI agent’s enhanced strength and sent bits of calcium filled shrapnel shredding through Ryoo’s furiously beating heart. The undefeated champion winced and could not find the words to express his torment. Eyes shot wide as he collapsed onto Michael’s body in a sullen heap of flesh. He courteously allowed Ryoo to fall to the ground without adding any unnecessary attacks to further impress the humiliation of defeat.

The tension inside the F.B.I. Mobile Command Center continued to mount with every passing second. As soon as silence hit the airwaves, Nicole felt a lump sink in her throat the size of an apple. At lease with the shouting it meant the fight hadn’t finished. The audience’s eerie silence could translate into one gruesome thought. Whatever they witnessed, it was enough to take their breath away. A thought which wracked Nicole’s nerves to no end.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t they saying anything?” She shouted into the console half-tempted to put her fist through it.

“They’re maintaining cover Commander Wells,” replied her determined yet drab subordinate.

Adrian always had to interject with logic even in trying times of anger. If a handful of attendees started whispering to themselves, security was bound to catch on to their ruse. Better to remain silent and only thought of as a fool then to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt.

“Keep trying!” Nicole barked hoping that someone out there would have the chance to sneak a few words in. “We’re blind and deaf in here. If something happened to them…”

Nicole felt her words trailing off into emotions she could never reveal to this crowd. Stating the worst case scenario was just like admitting this mission was a failure to begin with. Her concerns outweighed protocol that much was certain.

“Wait a second,” Adrian stated while tweaking a few sound dials.

The headset provided a continuous feed into the mole’s microphones but with all of the noise coming through at once in such a high volume and frequency, static was usually the only thing he could hear. Fortunately, someone had gotten through. The crowd was starting to liven up again and one agent repeated a statement that Adrian had to share with his superior.

“He did it,” the voice crackled through the speakers. “Rage beat the Korean.”

The sense of relief that swept over Nicole could have put her in a coma. She braced herself on the closest wall which was easy since this entire place made her feel like a canned sardine.  Prince immediately got on the horn and phoned the S.W.A.T. Commander. He relayed fast and detailed instructions, letting them know that insertion would be imminent but not to move a muscle before he gives the order. With everything else in place, all they had to wait for was an agent inside to relay the signal.

Knowing that Michael once again prevailed over near surmountable odds gave Nicole a special tingling feeling all over. The kind a child experiences on white Christmas morning or when a woman receives a marriage proposal from her longtime boyfriend. Those callous and sentimental thoughts didn’t suit Nicole nor reflected any of her deepest desires. Her most valued possessions were the job and Michael Madison. Nicole’s only wish now was to see the look on Logan’s shocked and depressed face.

“Hold on a second. Something else is coming through. Stand by.”

Nicole did not care for Adrian’s tone. It spoke of something ominous and unwanted. He locked the source to a specific agent and turned up the volume. No one knew how just how to take the words heard next but it did clear up one thing. Their celebration had been premature.

“Wait a second,” the voice started. “Ryoo’s moving. He’s still alive.”

Reality had struck an almighty blow to Charles Logan’s kingdom. The walls started to close in all around him. Air grew dense with a decrepit chalk like texture and taste. His once undefeated champion now remained stiff and motionless, destroying the power vacuum he has literally spent billions to create, and crumbling the glorious empire in a matter of minutes.

Dreadful thoughts began to creep into the cracks of Logan’s mind. Without a champion to draw in the crowd, he might as well settle for the pittance of wealth received from the slot machines and table games upstairs. The casino at this point didn’t even register as a concern. Charles Logan had lost the key factor in obtaining and retaining his outstanding financial and political power. No one wants to watch a loser. Even if Rage showed him mercy, Ryoo was finished. An entire year of nurturing wasted and to top it all off, that bastard still got his paycheck.

Hope had seemed like a futile dream. Not that Logan could care to consider it. The only things you can rely on in this world are skill, power, and money. Logan used to have all three about a minute ago. Now he’s only stuck with one. If an underlying miracle decided to rear its magnificent head, Logan would have gladly paid any price to see it just once. Little did he know that all had not been lost. His suite truly was the worst seat in the house. Ryoo had started moving and he certainly wasn’t finished yet.

“Michael watch out!”

Heeding Meryl’s warning, Michael turned and watched a rampaging bull steaming forward. Veins popped across every visible inch of Ryoo’s skin. His face masked in a sea of burst capillaries and fire glazed the windows to his soul. The insane level of fury displayed by the Korean didn’t shock Michael in the very least but the fact that he was still alive most certainly did.

Michael planted himself by rooting his legs onto the dense rock surface. When Ryoo came in range he launched a firm and devastating side kick right to the raging beast’s temple. The snap sent shockwaves throughout the Korean’s body, none of which could be processed once anger took over. His body rolled back across the arena floor to a skidding stop.

Impossible normally didn’t have a reserved place in his dictionary, however, Michael was indeed baffled. He felt the ribs crack in Ryoo’s chest. With the amount of power Michael put behind that punch, he’s lucky his fist didn’t impale the Korean. It didn’t make sense. Kurtis died after being pierced in the heart and he was loaded with Agent M seconds before they fought. Ryoo should have suffered a similar fate.

As he stood trying to hide any and all emotions from plain sight, a terrifying thought began to pierce Michael’s intellect and reasoning. Agent M started to spread just over a year ago. Since then, it’s been relatively quiet other than a couple of isolated incidents following the events at A.N.K.H. Pharmaceuticals. With all of that unaccounted for span of time, someone could have easily updated that formula to create something even more deadly than its predecessor. Judging by these results, it looks like the architect was shooting for immortality which begged Michael to solve a problem that didn’t appear to have a logical answer.

All of Ryoo’s logical functions ceased. Hate fueled his body while desperation nurtured his mind. He picked himself up off the ground without a hint of wavering. His opponent’s previous attack had been a distant memory at this point. The pain it carried dissipated in the dull numbness as did the rest of the wounds on his body. Ryoo had never anticipated nor experienced a feeling quite like this. It was oddly euphoric. He felt like he could do anything. From something trifle as snapping steel guardrail between his teeth to the more advanced moves of tearing a man’s soul apart with his bare hands. Ryoo didn’t have the opportunity to try the former but he most looked forward to the latter.

The beast charged forward with the speed and strength of an army of rampaging bulls. Michael remained firm and calm. With death staring right through his brown eyes, he didn’t even flinch. This new idea was certainly beyond the realm of any type of rational comprehension. Regardless of the sanity of this endeavor, Michael needed to be in grappling range in order to pull this stunt off.

Impact struck shaking the confines of this subterranean arena. Ryoo locked his arms around the target’s solid frame and drove him down to the ground with little effort locking in a full mount. In this position, Michael could offer little resistance. Each thrown fist carried the weight of speeding trains as they collided with the brick surface. The previous injury to his arm had seemed to be fully healed or outright ignored. Pillars of brown and red dust spewed from the newly created craters. Michael continued to sway his head between each blow watching the foam build up inside of the beast’s ravenous jaw.

The target area drew closer. With each thrown punch, the holes got bigger and Ryoo had to lean forward ever so slightly. Blades of wind slashed against Michael’s face. Ryoo’s determination poured through. He drew closer with every ferocious punch. The opportunity to strike would be paper thin. Michael only had one shot at this.

Ryoo lifted his right arm high and aimed to a more stationary target. An eye for an eye or in this case, a heart for a heart. This one second of hesitation screamed at Michael to act. He planted both feet on the ground and launched his hips outward, throwing Ryoo off balance, and sending that bright, yet delicious head right into Michael’s awaiting grip. Using his left arm as the vice, Michael locked the Korean’s head between his ribs and bicep. The Korean’s neck was sealed every so beautifully over his forearm and all he needed now was to hear the final pop of victory.

Every ounce of strength left in Michael’s cells pulled backwards. He roared with both fortitude and even a little trickle of frustration. If this didn’t work, Michael was convinced nothing else would. For a brief moment, he could have sworn he heard Ryoo wincing. Pain was being registered. The risk had certainly reaped an initial reward. Michael continued to pull. He wasn’t sure how strong Agent M had fortified the bones of this monster but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. A cheap copy was no match for the original. Russia had to learn that the hard way. Korea would be taught the same lesson.

Michael shouted at the top of his lungs. His adrenaline laced cry sliced through the delicate tissues of his lungs as he forced one last mighty pull. There was a horrifying screech of terror that followed and then went eerily silent. The large cracking sound that popped in Michael’s impenetrable grip signified a clean break.