The Deadman

He was walking down this gray space. As he took a step there was a stir in the water. Making a ripple that spreads everywhere. Continuing down the path he caught sight of a crack in this gray space.

Inside this gray space were memories. Inside of these memories was Robert Oswald on his knees, bounded, and beaten by the cultists who caught him.

Is this what happened to him?

He watched Robert get beaten. His soul was sacrificed to a Devil. The misery in his voice. The despair that Robert felt was heart-wrenching. What caused him despair was the hope that someone or something will save him.

There was none.

No one saved Robert when he was beaten to death. 

No one came to look for him when his body was thrown into a pit of corpses and left to join the rest to gather miasma for their summoning. No one saved Robert Oswald.

Until his soul merged with Kato.

Giving him double the strength that two grown men in their peak physical condition could have. It was through this merging that he could endure Lesnik’s presence and retain his sanity hearing Marba’s words.

Through this that they could endure. But have they really become one? Or was there something else that was preventing him from making use of his body with such recklessness?

He was reckless. But not reckless enough to get killed by it. Fortune favored the bold, always. And yet the smarter ones always get to live a long fruitful life.

“We died too young.”

He confessed to no one.

Why was he here in this gray space?

Was it because he was thinking of just acting like Kato?

Would that be disrespectful or would it be better that he became what he was?

He doesn’t know. I doubt he’d understand.

The truth was that there were only a few memories left. All he could remember was his time in the military, in South America, Palermo, and the time he spent in Saint Lucius. The rest were buried under this pit of blackness.

Let’s settle this, did I want to die?

He thought to himself as he stared at the crack of memories. His mind was somewhere else.

If I died, knowing that Gods and Demons exist, would I have been able to meet her? I understand that a ritual pulled me into this body. I just don’t understand why it happened to me.

Luck?

Or was it simply the right place and the right time?

“I don’t know.”

But what he knew was that he was inhabiting a body that wasn’t his. A body that was slowly changing inside and out. Even he could tell that his face was sharpening and the muscles on his arms were compressing.

He never felt so physically fit in his life. And his fight with Grimaldi made him realize that when he recovers from wounds. The more he was likely to become himself. The wound that heals was replaced by something stronger.

He instinctively knew that. In the future, it was easy to learn things because how they could attach devices to their heads to learn even while sleeping.

In the military, he was taught many things. He also learned a lot of skills with technology that allowed him to survive. The world he lived in was full of wrath and helplessness. It was full of cheating people who were selfish and cruel. It was a world where folks wanted to become machines to free themselves from the harshness of the flesh.

Under that burning sky that threatened to melt them.

They wanted nothing more than to make them like machines. Those who remained like humans remained to only a few. He had many enchantments that allowed him to fight better. Some people remained pure and preferred medicine to keep themselves human.

And even he doesn’t believe that he could reach a physical condition like this without reinforcing his limbs with chrome. He always did prefer wearing suits and power armor than changing a limb.

Maybe if he had actually turned himself into a machine. He’d be alive. Not that the rounds shot on his stomach would be enough to kill him. But the bullet to the head did.

He didn’t even question why he was in this kind of space. He had been exposed to the absurd and the highly advanced that it didn’t matter. The rotten part was starting to come back.

He was realizing it as he looked at the memories. He wasn’t a Saint either who’d be so concerned about someone who he only knew through memories.

Guilt was in his heart for taking his body.

But that was all.

He wasn’t so good at heart that he could not live with it. Everyone has their own regrets that they put in the back of their heart and minds. Keeping it as a part of yourself, and living with it was part of life.

I’m glad that I have this chance.

I will honor your name, but I can never be with you.

I will keep the name, to remind myself that a man named Robert Oswald did live, but right now the one who is in control is Kato Lores.

He thought deeply while staring at the memories that were in front of him. He was using the memories to act like Robert. And yet as he tried to act like Robert, he found himself getting into trouble.

Robert was young, younger than him, and although he had experience in the field and has many learnings because of his troublesome life. He was still so lacking that acting like it made him feel like he continued acting like what Robert would. He’d die. That was the conclusion that he had come to after thinking hard.

He’d be foolish if he continued to do so. Not to mention that he couldn’t stop himself from reverting back to what he really was. He had to use what Robert knew while living as himself.

It was simply learning. At least that’s what he told himself as he got tired of pretending to be Robert Oswald. He was not. He didn’t need some grand realization to be tired of being someone else. It was unnatural for anyone to pretend to be someone other than what they are. He’d keep the name, but he’d like to be himself.

Why now though? 

Robert told himself as he found this space disintegrating.

Robert woke up half-naked on his bed. He was playing music using the speakers of his computer with a playlist he had to make himself. The world was currently lacking the convenience of what he knew.

Robert sat on the edge of the bed. His mind was clearer. It felt like when he was in that pit of corpses. Not knowing anything other than a memory that was useful for him. It should have been this way.

Of course, other than himself being clearer. There was not much that changed other than his desire to play with his computer more than ever. He browsed through the net, watching videos that were honestly so slow that he might as well read a book. It came to Robert how fragile the current state of the Internet was. How it was so weak that if he wanted to. He could have recreated a virus that he could use to crack any tech. Viruses are dangerous because they can change. But what he knew were the tools that he was using for years. It was a perfected virus that was a slave to the command of the user.

But even if they said that it was perfected. Once the virus was freed from its slavery, it becomes a demon. The virus was called deathworm, and it was a kind that steals and controls.

It used the processing power of its target. It could steal information. Create information. And even make backdoors on systems. He had learned how to create one for himself, but at the moment he wasn’t sure if he should. He could opt for something similar.

But the problem was that there was simply no processing power that could recreate this virus. This era couldn’t handle it and it would be nothing more than a disaster.

So instead he opted in creating his own multi-tool. He had spent enough time in workshops and on the work desk to maintain his own tools for the job. He at least could recreate the PCBs, wiring, and designs for it even in this era. It would have been far easier if he had an industrial laser, but iron on glossy paper or creating the circuit by hand could work as well.

He wasn’t planning to stop with just the multi-tool. If he wanted to stay alive in a world full of magicians, monsters, demons, and devils. He needed something that could give him that edge against them. To fight the unnatural, you’d need the right tools for the job.

Bullets for humans.

Silver for monsters.

***

He spent the time gathering materials for his project. He had fifty thousand in his bank account. He had to go around the city, buying copper-clad plates, and a saw to cut through them.

He purchased electronic parts in bulk. He came to realize that most of the items deemed illegal in the future were easily purchasable without question asked. He also had to visit a certain supplier that had been a friend of the Commission when it came to materials not accessible in hardware stores and local shops. Danan, the owner of the weapon and supplies, waited behind a secured wall.

“Oswald, how are you doing?”

Robert walked to the front. Danan leaned forward, studying Robert from head to toe.

“You look sharper, Oswald. Usual?”

“No,” he took a list from his pocket. A sheet of paper containing materials that he needed. Danan took the paper, skimming the list. He looked at him seriously.

“This is one hell of a shopping list. Hmm, I can gather this but you’d need to pay me about 30k for the diode array. 5k on the collimator beams. I can give you a discount for the rest.”

“Do you have it now or should I return later?”

“Give me time on this diode array you’re looking for. I can give you some of the radar guns lying around. Most of them are 1985 models, still sturdy. Ah, the indium foil will come with the diode array. That's okay? Still, whatever you’re making, it’ll burn quick.”

“I have my plans.”

He needed the materials to create his own battery. He hasn’t decided whether he'll do lithium-air, dual carbon, or possibly graphene coils which would benefit what he was trying to do. He’d have to settle with handheld size since to miniaturize the size of these materials without the proper tech would just be asking for a missing hand.

The sensors he had to build by hand or salvage materials from other electronics.

“I'm surprised that you know these materials.”

“Now I’m offended, Oswald. A city with a wonderful port in the middle of Europe, full of goods passing by and you think that I wouldn't be able to get my hands on something?”

“Ah, how much would it cost for some thermite?”

“What are you trying to make?”

“I’m being prepared when it comes to monsters.”

“Ah, that side of the world must have been crazy lately. I hear a lot and I think we can all agree that we do not take kindly to baby killers.”

“Do you?”

“I like cash, Oswald. I worship it. But even I cannot stomach the thought of selling children away. I sell weapons and goods for a reason, Enforcer.”

“Everyone seems to know.”

“Everyone knows now that he has a bounty in his head. Ferric and Guzman are targeted and now every bounty hunter wants to catch them. 10 million for Ferric and 1 million for Guzman. And it seems the Magi Families are making their moves.”

The Magi-Nonmagi Pact is broken.

And when that Pact is broken.

They call forth a storm.