The Prometheus Objective

7

I have become destroyer of worlds.

The thought brought him neither excitement nor guilt. It was not the first time he had felt this way. And as he floated in the immersion tank, breathing tube in place, his naked body rippled with muscles honed from an early age, before his Ascension.

He’d been groomed by the others. The Circle. The Followers of Horus.

They had many names. And had lived many lives.

After his Ascension, he had learned of his true past, the lineages and the linkages back, back to when it all began and even further. The destiny they shaped. The knowledge they sought.

It was all so close now.

His body, the talents and the skills he’d learned — mastering four martial arts forms, proficient with katana and shurikens — everything would come in play for the battles to come in this, the endgame.

He would soon be called to that ancient and sacred cavernous chamber amidst the ice and snow, deep inside the primordial shrine, the ancient place of wonder.

He would become one with the truth.

But Raiden Ziansin understood that truth was malleable, and power was everything. The power that would soon be his, power enough to take a world by force, and create a new truth.

Truth, when one had true knowledge, could be reshaped, molded and corrected.

There is another path, he thought as his hand absently moved through the cool water and grasped the gem on the chain around his neck.

The green, solid, perfectly chiseled gem…

Soon, now.

He could feel his body, but only barely. The power of the gem radiated against his flesh and muscle, absorbed in the nutrient bath; but again, it was only flesh and muscle. What was truly enhanced now was his mind.

His consciousness, freed completely in this tank…

A practice the Americans had almost perfected with their spying programs. With MK Ultra and Stargate and others. Raiden had been experimenting with the separation of mind and body for years. Astral traveling, spirit projection, whatever the term, he had been proficient by the time he had been admitted into the Order, and from there, along with his discovery of the past, of who he had been and the lives he had lived, he knew why he had been chosen.

They knew too. Especially since Raiden Ziansin died over thirty years ago.

What could he say? He liked the name. Among the hundreds, thousands he had taken or had been given as his own, this one had the most meaning. ‘Raiden’ meant God of Thunder and Lightning, and the one who had borne that name… had found the gem.

A flash of memories rose to the top of his thoughts: submerged with a tenuous breathing line… the pressure overwhelming, the surface so far up, a bare glint in the gloom and past the fan-like shapes circling overhead, closing in on something — a deeper shadow in the darkness, like a spire, the lead emissary of magnificent city under the waves, but more — a glinting silvery chest secured in chains just inside its cupola. Within his reach…

He snapped back just as his consciousness, drifting in a sea of thought and spiritual connections, a feeling of being everywhere and nowhere at once, detected a change in the external environment.

Someone was draining the tank. Bringing him out.

I’m not ready, he tried to project. His body wouldn’t respond yet, disassociated as he was, but he had other means of control. Just had to reach out and find…

Unnggh….

It was too much. He was close but there were so many connections. The gem…

It gave him the sight, and more. While in this state he could find the ‘markers’, those who were taking the drug, the milligrams of solvent floating in their bloodstreams, activating in their brains, and calling out.

Calling to him.

Calling to the gem, the source…

He could find them. Create a connection, like now…

With the woman coming to rouse him from his work. To enlighten him about something.

And then he was in.

Inside her mind, merging with it.

Being non-localized in his consciousness meant he could be anywhere. Be anyone as long as the anchor was in place.

As it was with his assistants here. All hand-chosen by the Followers.

Jaclyn Bennet, 44, of Houston, TX until recently. Lifelong adherent of the occult. Touch of psychic ability herself, proficient in Tarot readings, Palmistry and seances, Jaclyn was naturally drawn to the followers, recruited and propelled through the ranks. Two sisters, both younger and oblivious. Born without the gift. Likely suffering immensely now. Too bad big sis isn’t free to assist in their transition.

She had greater goals at the moment.

Using her body, upending her mind, Raiden directed her to pause the extraction sequence.

Time to learn what the fuss is all about. Why rouse me earlier, when my work isn’t done?

He had just been getting started, probing the corners of the world, seeking the Morpheus members. Tracking them at Nan Madol, scuba diving and running from Miriam’s enforcers. Raiden chuckled at their folly, then moved on. Found the new recruits in the basement of a church, scribbling away and trying to make sense of disjointed and badly drawn sketches. Then on, where the core members were in Long Island.

Interesting, and fascinating.

That bit about Tesla… Unexpected.

Miriam’s loss was a blow, but entirely in the realm of prediction. Her power could have been useful, but she had always been a rogue element. A chaos figure that couldn’t be controlled. Like the other Custodian.

They had annihilated each other. Good. And destroyed a gateway and dimensional portal in the process, closing out other timelines and variable universes.

Just fine with Raiden.

This one is mine.

He had claimed it, lived it. Over and over, he had shaped its history and forged ahead of all others to be at this pinnacle of spiritual and psychic evolution.

At the stage of true enlightenment.

He thought of the Buddhas. Of the mystics and saviors who had come and gone.

Missing that one most crucial element.

Memory. Retainment.

They looked to the Dalai Lama in this age, the reincarnation of his most blessed wise one.

All that was right in thought, wrong in practice.

He had them all beat. He and the other Followers. The Circle.

Focus.

Concentrating all his wide-reaching awareness down to a single point. Ignore the man in the tank.

Back to the woman, to Jaclyn, who presided over the tank with the other four assistants in this second sublevel of the drug manufacturing plant. She came with an iPad displaying an aerial photo.

She stopped at his command. Held it up and scrutinized it: snowy setting, a view from high above. Google Satellite maybe. He knew they’d been looking, co-opting the cameras and feeds from satellites, traffic cams, ATMs and the like across the world. Employing facial recognition and other tools.

Time stamps displayed a scene first from last night, under a bright aurora in Alaska…

An elderly woman by the looks of it, with a stroller holding two toddlers, heading for the cabin.

The next image: the same woman likely, sans-coat, face down in the snow. No sign of the tykes.

Jaclyn smiled.

Very well, the thought came. You may wake me, this is what I sought. You’ve done well.

And in the tank, with the water flooding out through the floor vents, Raiden descended and returned to his body. His mind sparked back and resumed control of the cold limbs and willed the muscles to flex and work once more.

He pulled the tube from his mouth, and along with the saline and chlorinated water, he could almost taste the pure flavor of victory.

“We have them. Alaska… find me the nearest military unit. And a susceptible commander.”