The Ghost Consigliere

CHAPTER 8: Trojan Horse to Hell

A fine acid rain fell, reflecting the purple neon glow of The Apex nightclub sign across the puddles in the back alley.

A bulky club guard named Rino leaned against the heavy steel door. He wore an expensive black suit that was starting to soak through, smoking a clove cigarette while scrolling on his phone. A comms earpiece sat in his ear. He paid no attention to the stench of garbage around him. His mind was fixed on the shift change that was only ten minutes away.

He never realized that at the far end of the dark alley, exactly ninety-five meters away, a small hole in the sunroof glass of a van marked “Pipe Cleaning Service” was aimed straight at him.

Inside the van, Sloane’s breathing was steady. She ignored the drizzle slipping through the open roof, dampening her hair. Her right eye was perfectly aligned with the scope of a 7.62mm sniper rifle. The crosshairs were locked precisely on Rino’s right temple.

“Target locked,” Sloane whispered.

On the modified cot behind her, Elias’s body tensed. His eyes were shut tight. The necrotic veins along the left side of his neck bulged, pulsing like worms writhing beneath his skin.

A cold sensation spread from the base of his skull. He focused all his awareness, projecting an invisible frequency outward from the van, pushing through the rain, searching for a death that had not yet occurred.

“Take the shot,” Elias hissed.

Sloane exhaled slowly, held the last of her breath, then squeezed the trigger with a gentle pull.

Pffut-CRACK!

The suppressed rifle kicked into her shoulder. The armor-piercing round sliced through the rain, spinning at supersonic speed, and struck its target in less than a second.

At the end of the alley, Rino’s head snapped violently to the side. Blood and fragments of skull burst outward, splattering the steel door behind him. His cigarette flew into a puddle. Rino never screamed or reached for the panic button in his pocket. His eyes went white, and his massive body collapsed to the ground.

Thud.

Elias felt it instantly.

“Entering…” he groaned.

His jaw tightened. He was no longer inside the van. His static wave slammed into Rino’s fresh corpse, burrowing into the freshly punctured brain, igniting the last flickers of neural electricity.

Twitch.

Rino’s index finger jerked. Within three seconds, the corpse that should have been lifeless opened its eyes. It rose slowly to its feet, stiff and jerky, but stable. Fresh blood streamed from the bullet hole in its temple, staining the collar of the expensive suit dark red. Its face was completely expressionless.

Inside that head, Elias smiled coldly. He saw the narrow alley through Rino’s eyes. Controlling this body felt lighter than when he had possessed Grox. Maybe the distance was optimal, or maybe his twisted biology was adapting to the cost of his power.

He moved the host’s right hand, picking up Rino’s phone from the puddle and slipping it into the suit pocket. He had to act natural. There was a CCTV camera above the door.

Click.

Static crackled through the earpiece.

“Rino, get inside. This is Mike from the inner hall. Your shift’s over. Open the back door, I’ve got the new lock,” a lazy voice said.

Elias could not respond using the corpse’s ruined throat without sounding monstrous. He needed Mike to open the door himself.

Using Rino’s hand, Elias deliberately entered the wrong code twice on the digital panel.

Beep. Beep.

“Seriously? You drunk, Rin? Move aside, I’ll open it from inside,” Mike grumbled.

Heavy bolts slid into place.

Clack.

The door opened inward. Mike, a tall, thin guard in black, stood in the doorway holding a lock. He glanced down to adjust his belt.

“Man, in weather like this you—”

He froze.

His eyes lifted, locking onto Rino’s face. Then to the bloody hole in his temple.

“R-Rino? Your face… what the hell happened to you?!” Mike stepped back, his hand instinctively moving toward his pistol.

Elias gave him no time to scream.

Rino’s corpse surged forward with impossible speed.

Its left hand shot out, clamping over Mike’s jaw, silencing him. Its right hand drove into Mike’s chest, shoving him backward.

They stumbled into the dim corridor.

With its foot, Elias kicked the steel door shut.

SLAM.

Red neon flickered overhead. Bass from the club upstairs pounded through the walls, masking every sound in the hallway.

“Mghh! Mhh!”

Mike struggled wildly. His eyes bulged with terror as he stared into Rino’s blank face inches away. He tried to draw his weapon, but the corpse was too strong.

Elias wasted no time. He drove all his force into the corpse’s right arm and smashed his fist into Mike’s throat.

CRACK.

The cartilage shattered instantly. Mike’s body stiffened, eyes wide, then collapsed to the floor, dead from traumatic asphyxia.

Elias stood over the fresh corpse. From inside the van, he regulated his breathing. There was no nausea now. His humanity was eroding, replaced by cold efficiency. He looked down at Mike’s still-warm body.

One corpse was not enough to clear a full floor.

He needed a small army.

Zzzt.

Elias split his focus. He extended his static field, forming a second branching “cable” in his mind. He forced his consciousness into Mike’s body. It felt like driving two vehicles at once, but he forced it. The black veins on his real body crept upward toward his jaw. Cold sweat soaked his pale face.

“One… two…” Elias muttered, teeth chattering.

In the corridor, Mike’s corpse twitched violently. His broken neck shifted back into place with a wet sound. Slowly, he rose to his feet. His eyes glowed red in the dim light. Now two corpses stood side by side. Both controlled by one crippled man ninety-five meters away.

Elias turned Rino’s head toward Mike. The two stared at each other. Perfect synchronization. The Trojan horse had entered.

Using Mike’s hands, Elias drew a Glock from the holster and fitted it with a suppressor. Rino’s corpse picked up a short-barreled rifle from the floor. Together, they moved down the corridor toward the main access door to the ground floor.

Click.

Sloane’s voice came through the earpiece. “Status inside, Boss? You got two puppets?”

Elias replied between steady breaths. “Yeah. Back corridor. Dante’s on the third floor. Distance is about a hundred ten meters.”

Up front, Sloane cursed under her breath. “That’s past your limit, El. Your connection will snap the second they go upstairs. You’ll seize again.”

“Then we shorten the distance,” Elias said coldly. “Wait for my signal. The moment I start killing on the ground floor, drive the van straight into the front gate. Park as close to the building as possible.”

“If I ram the gate, the external alarms will go off. They’ll send people to the front, and the van becomes a target,” Sloane snapped.

“That’s the point,” Elias replied, a predator’s smile forming on his pale face. “I need them panicking. I need their attention split. Don’t argue. This is war. Do your job.”

Sloane growled, but she complied, shifting to the driver’s seat and starting the engine quietly. “You’re a damn psycho. I’ll park ten meters from the wall. Try not to die first.”

Inside the club, Rino and Mike reached the double doors leading to the staff locker room. Elias kicked the doors open.

Inside, four Vancroft tactical guards were relaxing. Two played cards at a round table. The other two smoked while checking their weapons.

They all turned at once.

“Hey, Rino, Mike, what are you—”

The sentence died when they saw the gaping wound in Rino’s temple.

Before anyone could react, Rino’s corpse raised the rifle and opened fire.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Chaos erupted. Blood and shredded playing cards flew into the air. The two at the table dropped instantly, their chests torn apart.

The other two dove behind steel lockers, faces pale.

“Contact! Contact in the locker room! Rino’s gone crazy!” one shouted into his radio.

“Die, you traitor!” the other yelled, firing back.

Rounds slammed into Rino’s chest and abdomen. The corpse staggered but did not fall.

Elias forced it forward, using it as a living shield. While the guards focused their fire, Mike’s corpse flanked left, aiming from the side of the lockers. Two suppressed shots.

Pffut. Pffut.

The first guard dropped instantly. The last guard turned in horror. He saw Mike, neck twisted unnaturally, aiming a pistol at him.

“Sorry…” Elias whispered through Mike’s ruined mouth.

BANG.

The bullet pierced the man’s eye. His body collapsed, smearing fresh blood across the lockers.

Elias steadied his breathing inside the van.

Rino’s body was too damaged now. He severed the connection. The corpse collapsed for good. He shifted fully into Mike, then extended a new branch into one of the freshly killed guards. The corpse rose. Two new puppets. Elias smiled. From the fallen radio, panic flooded the channel.

“This is second floor command! Shots fired in the locker room! What’s happening down there?!”

Elias did not respond. He stepped out of the locker room and into the glittering main club floor. The bass thundered, drowning out the screams that were about to erupt.

The symphony of blood had begun.