Monster Hunter Nemesis (41 page)

CHAPTER 19

A Binding Contract of Perpetual Alliance, offensive and defensive, entered into between the being Franks and the United States in Congress assembled.

Recognizing that the hordes of Hell are a threat to all the establishments of man and the United Colonies of North America, let it be recorded that the Mission of Franks is
to protect the People from the predations of the Unearthly. Franks does solemnly swear before these witnesses to protect this land from all inhuman forces who may threaten
its citizens and their property and wellbeing. Franks shall henceforth fulfill this duty to the best of his abilities including the sacrifice of his liberty and life. In return, by all Rights, Laws, and Privileges, the being Franks shall be considered as a living man.

Both parties have agreed to the following stipulations.

The continued secrecy pertaining to the Unearthly, being necessary for the liberty and sanity of all men, the Congress shall establish a special committee of learned men pertaining to the Unearthly Forces, to be convened in secret.

Franks shall abide by the laws and limitations set upon him by the Congress, provided said laws do not clash with his mission as stated. The trial of all crimes committed by Franks in pursuit of his mission shall be by the special committee.

Franks shall not engage in acts of offensive war with any Nation, Nations of Indians, or Other Worlds without Consent of the Congress.

In exchange for the protection and services provided by Franks, the Congress will provide him with physical repairs, body parts of suitable quality, and any supplies necessary so that he may remain effective in battle against the hordes of Hell. All expenses incurred shall be defrayed from the Common Treasury.

Regardless of any alchemical or scientific knowledge gleaned from the study of the physical form of Franks, no attempt must ever be made to replicate the work of Konrad Dippel in order to create a physical body like unto that of Franks or this contract is immediately rendered void. In consequence Franks shall levy total war upon the parties responsible.

In Witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands on the first day of January in the Year of our Lord One Thousand Seven Hundred and Seventy-Six.

* * *

As Franks ran forward, he lifted the SCAR with one hand and began firing at Kurst. The demon lunged behind a steel girder.

Franks slid behind a large machine, shoved the halberd handle through his belt so he could have his hand free, and reloaded the rifle. Another agent had taken cover in that same place earlier, but something had ripped his head off and left his body there leaking. Seeing the corpse just made Franks even angrier. He was going to destroy Kurst. Even with a body like that, Kurst would have physical limits. He just needed to be pushed beyond those limits, and Franks had a lot of practice at that sort of thing. One of Myers’ favorite sayings had been
old age and treachery beat youth and skill.
Kurst might have a stronger form, but he was still learning how to use it. Hopefully that would be enough.

Franks dropped the bolt, shouldered the rifle, and came out shooting.

Kurst leapt out from behind the girder, and in one mighty leap covered the entire distance between them. He landed in front of Franks, claws skidding across the slick floor. Bullet holes puckered across Kurst’s chest and ruptured out his back, but the wounds didn’t slow him. He swatted the rifle from Franks’ hands, then slammed one big fist into Franks’ torso.

Franks flew back twenty feet and crashed through a workstation. He sat up to discover there was still a fist-shaped dent in his chest plate. Kurst was
strong.
Fast too, since he was already on top of him. The demon hit him with a blow to the head so hard that a regular human’s skull would have burst like a balloon. Franks was rattled. Spit hit him in the eyes as Kurst shouted, “You have sinned against the host. That was a mistake, Franks!”

Franks grabbed hold of Kurst’s horns and yanked down hard. “My only mistake was listening to you fools to begin with!” He curled his other hand into a fist and slugged Kurst in the mouth.

Claws hooked through his improvised bandolier and Franks was violently hoisted off the ground. Their hands flashed back and forth, trying to knock each other aside for a moment before Franks gave up. The demon was just too strong.
Before Kurst could throw him again, Franks clicked the buckle and dropped free, leaving Kurst with nothing but a handful of pistol belt and pouches. Franks crawled away.

Kurst followed him. “Running won’t save you. Do you really think you’re that clever?”

“Yes.” Franks held up the pin he’d pulled from one of his grenades, then he rolled beneath a heavy table.

“Hmm . . .” Kurst looked down at the pouches in his hand and then at the grenade spoon that had fallen a few feet away. Realization dawned a split second too late to do anything about it.

Shrapnel blasted through the thick wood Franks was using for cover. The frag was slowed, but he was close enough that some of it still tore through and injured him. The pressure wave left his ears ringing. A quick inventory confirmed blood loss, but nothing vital hit. Franks stuck his head out. The demon had gotten it far worse. The blast had flung Kurst away. The demon was sitting up, stunned, looking at his mangled hand. Most of that arm resembled hamburger more than anything else, but Kurst appeared more angry than hurt. Franks scowled. That would have turned most living things into red mush. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

Kurst sprang up and charged. Franks hurled the table at him, but Kurst batted it aside. They went toe to toe, but where Franks had a chance before, now Kurst simply manhandled him. Even bleeding from dozens of shrapnel wounds, Kurst was still too fast. Everything Franks did was turned aside. Kicks, punches, knees, elbows, all traded so quickly it would be difficult for the human eye to track and impossible for the human body to stop, flew back and forth between them, but Franks couldn’t hurt him.
Kurst is toying with me.

“Is that all?” It took everything Franks had to stay ahead of him. Within seconds, his forearms were splintered and bleeding from blocking so many impacts. His hearts were racing. Kurst’s face had stretched until it now resembled a werewolf. His grin displayed a long row of jagged teeth. “I’m only getting warmed up.”

Franks was hit on one side of the head, then the other, so hard and fast that the turn almost broke his neck. Body blows fell in such rapid succession that it felt like he was being hit with a burst from a machine gun. Then Kurst kicked his leg out from under him, but caught him by the throat before he could fall. Franks was lifted off the ground, and then Kurst swung him around. Glass shattered as they crashed through one of the growth tanks. His blood painted patterns on the floor.

Claws digging into his neck, Franks grabbed hold of Kurst’s hand and pried back a finger until it snapped.

“You think that’ll stop me?” The demon paused to hold up his other hand, showing Franks that the damage from the grenade was nearly healed. He wiggled his fingers. “I’ll just grow more.” Then he pulled Franks in, muscles tightening with energy, and then Kurst hurled him across the factory. Franks spun through the air, crashed through another growth tank, and then into the unyielding concrete of the far wall.

Franks could barely lift himself up. His quick inventory told him that everything was broken or leaking. The glass had sliced through his skin in several places, and a few lacerations were deep enough to render those muscle groups combat-ineffective. He still had two handguns, a grenade, some folding knives, and that broken halberd on him, but when he tried to draw a pistol, he discovered that the too-soft bones in his new hands were too broken to close around the grip.

I am going to lose.

Kurst had flung him fifty feet that time, and the demon was strolling over to finish the job. Somebody had gotten the emergency lights on, and Franks could see that his men were in the fight of their lives against the partially grown host bodies and the fully grown Nemesis soldiers. The factory was filled with explosions and gunfire, and if Franks didn’t finish Kurst off now, then the demons would kill his allies, flee this place, and grow themselves an army to conquer the world and ruin The Plan.

There had not been very many times over the last three centuries when Franks had implored the World Maker for anything, but it was not very often that Franks lost a fight.
If you want me to complete The Deal, I require help now.

The demon prince paused to let Franks collect himself. “You seem surprised I defeated you so easily.” Kurst spied a pipe mounted on the wall, then ripped it free. Steam came shooting out of the gap. He tested the balance, swinging the big pipe back and forth like it was a baseball bat. Satisfied that it would be sufficient to beat Franks to death, Kurst put the pipe over one shoulder and strolled over. “You should know by now that demons always cheat.”

“So do humans, asshole!”

BOOM!

Kurst turned just in time to catch the large-caliber bullet with his teeth. Bits of ivory flew through the air as the back of his skull came apart in a burst of red. Agent Jefferson had braced a huge Barrett .50 rifle over the side body of a forklift. His next round punched through Kurst’s sternum and sent the demon reeling back. Kurst retaliated by flinging the pipe at Jefferson. It hit so hard that it tore the roll cage off the forklift and Jefferson disappeared behind it.

Kurst grinned. “
Bia!
Your human is here!” He pointed in Jefferson’s direction. Kurst was answered by a horrific shriek from the rafters high above. A purple winged form dropped from the darkness and shot toward the forklift. Jefferson shouted in surprise as the demon attacked him. There was a lot of gunfire and shrieking. “Enjoy yourself.”

Strayhorn came around the side of the stairs with a rifle shouldered. He moved toward Franks while laying down fire on Kurst. “Hang on, Franks!”

Even with Kurst wounded, the rookie was no match for the demon prince. “Get out of here,” Franks ordered, but his voice was so weak and broken that his order couldn’t be heard over the gunfire.

The rookie didn’t listen to him. Strayhorn was pulling something from one of his pouches, and he tossed it. The oval-shaped object hit the floor and slid toward Franks just as Kurst lunged for Strayhorn.

Franks crawled toward them.
“Run!”

It was certain death, but the rookie kept shooting. Kurst moved through the bullets and raised one hand. The claws flashed like lightning, and Strayhorn was torn nearly in half.

“No . . .” Franks whispered.

Strayhorn lay there in a spreading pool of blood. Kurst stood over the mutilated body, claw dripping red. “Interesting . . . You cared about this one, didn’t you, Franks?”

The thing that Strayhorn had thrown at him had been a canteen. The plastic had bulged and the cap had burst off on impact, spilling glowing blue liquid.

Kurst licked his fingers. “This is the same blood from the riverside . . . You saved this one before. But why would any human matter to something like you?”

“They matter. We don’t.” He could barely speak. Franks reached the canteen and scooped it up with clumsy, broken hands. The canteen was still mostly full. “This world belongs to them. It was never ours to take.”

“You have followed the Creator’s lies for so long. Next will I have to listen to you preach about mercy and sacrifice?”

“I’ll never understand mercy.” This would most likely be fatal, but Franks had a mission to fulfill. He lifted the canteen and drank the whole thing. He poured
ten
doses’ worth of molten agony down his throat. Every artery and vein on Franks’ body began to glow. His skin made a sizzling noise like bacon hitting a hot pan. His hair began to smoke and singe. It hadn’t even really kicked in yet, and already the pain was incomprehensible. Franks spoke through grinding teeth,
“But I do understand sacrifice.”

Kurst turned around, saw the empty canteen fall from Franks’ convulsing fingers. “Fool.” The demon prince shook his horned head. “You’d burn yourself to a crisp for nothing. You will never be pure enough for Him.”

The demon started toward him. There was nothing Franks could do about it. Every muscle in his body had contracted so tight that the tension was audible. Impurities burned off and bled through his pores as his bones turned molten. Nerve endings sent messages made of encoded pain, died, were born again to transmit even more suffering. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. It was beyond anything Franks had ever imagined.

His body was producing such incredible heat that it threatened to spontaneously combust. The edges of his clothing smoked and began to burn. The polyester of his tie caught fire and melted into his skin. It felt like soothing ice compared to the heat engulfing him.

Franks saw the Void open up before him. It beckoned to him. Hell would have been a release compared to this. He wanted to die. Anything to end this pain . . . Kurst would be doing him a favor. The demon’s huge clawed feet stopped inches from Franks’ face. “What’s that, Franks? Do you wish to escape? Such pain . . . Will you beg me for death?”

It was so tempting. Then he focused on Strayhorn’s dead body . . .

“Too bad. You’re going to get it anyway.” Kurst lifted his foot to snap Franks’ neck. “Farewell, Brother.”

“Hey, Kurst!” someone shouted.

Kurst sighed and put his foot down. “What now?”

Grant Jefferson limped around the side of the forklift. His armor had been torn to shreds, his face was crisscrossed with scratches, and blood was running freely from several deep wounds. He stopped at the edge of the open space and lifted one arm. Jefferson held a handful of black hair, and dangling beneath that was the severed head of a purple-skinned female demon. He tossed the head at Kurst. It hit the floor, bounced a few times, and rolled over to them. “I killed your girlfriend again.” Weak from blood loss, he went to his knees. “Don’t know why people keep underestimating me . . . I’m a total badass,” Jefferson muttered before passing out and falling flat on his face.