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Jennifer E Whalen

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Azure Chronicles
by Jennifer E Whalen   

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Publisher:  Eloquentbooks ISBN-10:  1606935127 Type: 


Copyright:  Jan 3 2009 ISBN-13:  9781606935125

Jadis Bix is a man of duty and respect, one of the most trusted in the State military. After the untimely death of a fellow officer, Fuhrer Joseph Danbury assigns Jadis the grueling task of leading an exploration team deep into the Switzerland Alps, where Shinra, a phantom organization creating genetically altered soldiers resides. What Joseph hopes to be a swift annihilation of Shinra takes a turn for the worst, when the enemy, forcing Danbury to expose his connection with Shinra, abducts his only daughter, First Lieutenant, Dante Danbury.

The devilís Farewell

Sin crouches at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.

It was a long night, fueled by his own fear; the rapid swell of anxiety filled his entire being, Argo crouched down behind the laboratoryís main computer console. The young man slowly became aware of daunting discomforts, the fatigue in his hips, the ache of the balls of his feet, and the crippling hunger in his belly; it had been hours since the attack was provoked, and he had gone without the simple things, sleep, food and water. Argo gripped his Browning 9 pistol firmly; he was a tall man with a brawny build. The subservient man possessed lengthy brown hair and resolute earthy brown eyes; he was in his late twenties, sweat glistened on his face and his heart thumped in his chest.
Argo dressed in casual clothing; he wore khaki slacks, sleek black dress shoes, and a dark blue dress shirt over which he wore a long bleach white lab technician coat, a jet black tie and belt completed his attire. A thump of paws drew Argoís attention behind him; he slowly rose up on his toes and peeked up over the console, he cocked his pistol and aimed it directly ahead. The man released a long, slow breath; he kept his gun pointed at the shroud of roiling gas.
Minutes later, a large black and brown German Shepard emerged from the gas and padded across the floor; his claws clicked against the tile.
Argo let out an exasperated sigh and lowered himself behind the console; he lowered his gun at his side and raked his hand through his sweat-matted mane.
The back-up generators switched on seconds before and painted the room a reddish tint; the sound of weapons strapped to marching bodies echoed the upper levels and the tunnel-shaped corridors of the underground alpine facility.
Argo slowly rose up onto his toes and again peeked out from behind the console; the lab was in ruin, broken glass and several chemicals littered the floor, as did several massacred bodies of innocent scientists and doctors. Blood smeared the washed-out blue walls and splattered the ceiling. Argo carefully crawled out from behind the console and made his way across the spacious lab. The youth slowly approached the body of a female doctor; he pressed to fingers against her neck, but there was no pulse, the woman was dead.
The shatter of glass, followed by a panther-like snarl echoed the upper levels; shouted commands arose from the menacing ruckus, followed by unceasing gunfire. Minutes later, an uncanny silence befell the upper levels.
Argo swallowed hard; his eyes quivered, the young man crawled towards the far wall and pressed his palm flat against the cool tile. A sapphire light erupted from his palm and shot up along the wall vertically, bent horizontally and than zipped back down; a standard-sized door formed on the wall and the tile within the glowing frame disappeared. Argo peeked through and looked down the new hallway.

Numerous massacred bodies permeated the tunnel, as did loose documents, caged rats, and a dead German Shepard.
Argo slowly rose to a stand and carefully made his way down the hall; he cautiously stepped among the bodies, he held his gun low at his side. As Argo furthered into the tunnel, a thin layer of green gas obscured his feet. An uneasy feeling arose within Argo, as faint steps arose behind him. The man stopped; he cocked his gun and with his bodyís turn, he drew the pistol. The man swept his gun side to side; he stepped back, as no one was there. Argo spun around quickly, as a warm breath brushed against the back of his neck; his eyes contracted completely at the figure before him.
The beast fixed the frightened man into his unyielding yellow eyes; his was small and gaunt, barely ten-years old. The beast stood upright like a man, but instead of flesh, his whole body was covered with albino fur. The beast possessed large feline ears, pawed feet and a bushy tail; he wore a pair of carrot-orange trousers. The beast stared at Argo; his ears drew back and he curled his lip into the beginnings of a snarl.
Argo trembled; he stepped backwards and drew his gun on the chimeric child.
In a flash, the beast seized Argo by the throat and forced the man to his knees; the childís growl had a killing threat to it. The child grabbed the gun, threw his head forward and sank his teeth into the manís shoulder.
Argo threw back his head and wailed in agony; he dropped his gun, as severe pain radiated throughout his entire body and nearly paralyzed him. The force of the beastís jaw nearly broke his shoulder; Argoís blood seeped through the material of his shirt and coat and stained it a hue of red.
Suddenly, a bullet exploded out of the mist from behind Argo, whizzed past him, and hit the beast in the shoulder.
The beast howled in pain; he dropped Argo and disappeared into the roiling gas.
Argo dropped back to his knees and reached for his gun when a solid mass struck him from behind. The fall lurched forward and hit the ground, as he rolled onto his back, a shadowed figure stepped forward; a weighty boot stepped on the manís chest and applied pressure. Argo wheezed and through blurry eyesight, looked up at the figure; he grabbed the toe of the boot.
The mist shifted to one side and exposed a masked solider dressed in green fatigues; he carried a pistol. A bulky World War II hid his ominous face from the world. The man aimed the gun at Argo and shoved the barrel against the manís forehead with enough force behind it to leave a bruise. The man fired his gun; a shroud of smoke curled up from the barrel; its thunderous bang echoed the halls.
Not all memories are good, not all events are joyful; life is a fickle thing, filled with good times and bad times. This goes back more years then I care to admit. All I wanted to do was to regain a most precious gift, in which was so wrongfully stolen from us, and, in defying nature, disrupting her natural flow, I have condemned not only myself, but I have also condemned those I love. I was naÔve; completely oblivious to the ominous web I had so idiotically woven, thus cursing myself with the utmost unfathomable sins one can ever perform. By my own hands, sweat and blood; the world is plagued by a feverish terror; he was the first, a child born of man and beast, with senses heightened beyond that of normal conception, possessing the instinct of eminent danger; I have given rise to an Aryan race. He was strong and agile, with flawless construction.

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