The Silver Ninja: Indoctrination Excerpt C-22

The beating of drums and cacophony of vuvuzela horns filled the New York City corridors as night fell across the skyline. The streets were near bursting with thousands of people clogging the arteries of the city. Drunk college guys sporting Uncle Sam top hats, lit illegal fireworks. Children with their faces painted in patriotic colors, drew invisible words in the night air with their sparklers. Homeless beggars conned gullible tourists for their change. The crowd was a mix of people from all walks of life: an immigrant from Ethiopia, a Chinese foreign exchange student, a young actress from the farmlands of Nebraska. All were here to celebrate the birth of a nation.

Jun watched the people whoop and holler like idiots from the command center of his ship. He imagined one of his gas bombs detonating in the middle of the crowd; thousands, maybe even millions, would be instantly infected with his Indocrex drug. His spacecraft, the Cestus Dei, pulled into port at the West River and lit up its lights. The crowd cheered.

“Let’s give them a show.” Jun snapped his fingers. “Anyone care for a glass of wine?”

The hatches atop the Cestus Dei slid open and a burst of energy shot out from the opening. The streak of fire projected high into the air and exploded in a glittering umbrella of violets and magentas. Soon the sky was a lit with patterns of hearts, flowers and smiley faces. When the fireworks’ radiant colors fizzled out, a sickly green smoke lingered behind. It grew into an enormous cloud and drifted over to the crowd of spectators.

Jun watched the fireworks light up the sky and thought back to distant memories.

(It was Chinese New Year in Hong Kong. The puppet dragons were dancing on stage, drums were beating loudly, and sparklers were shooting up past his grime covered apartment window. Jun was laying on his mattress that didn’t have a bedspread and listened to the sound of a ratty old air conditioner hanging from his window.

There was a gentle knock on his paint chipped door. “Come in.”

Mai entered the apartment with Styrofoam containers and chopsticks. The smell of pork buns and roasted duck masked her perfume.

“Hungry?”

Jun sat up from his bed and rubbed his hands together. “You know it.”

Mai brushed aside a roach from the counter and set the trays down. “Jun, you’re supposed to leave the windows open so that you don’t keep in the bad luck. Look at all this dust, you haven’t even swept.”

“You know I don’t believe in that Feng Shui nonsense.”

“Well you should.” She sat on his bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know why?”

“Why?” He smiled.

“Because you’re going to be somebody one day. You’ll need all the luck you can get so you can learn how to cook for yourself.”

Jun laughed. “I’ll think about it.”)

Jun snapped out of his daydream and watched the spectators inhale the Indocrex gas.

Microscopic nanites hidden within the particles of the gas descended from the sky and flew in through the mouths and nostrils of the overjoyed on-lookers. The nanites flew down the trachea and scattered throughout the lungs and heart. From there, the machines deployed thousands of spores which attached to the lining of the organs. Slowly the spores expanded into a fungus that sucked the nutrients from the body. The nanites then flew up to the brainstem and waited for the trigger.

One woman attempted to clear her throat, but a deep, dry hacking sound erupted from her lungs. A man waving an American flag, coughed quickly, then banged on his sternum and continued to wave his flag. A photographer, taking a picture of the carrier sized Cestus Dei, coughed and then coughed again. He put a bottle of water to his lips, but before he could swallow, he coughed again and spattered water all over a woman next to him. Within minutes the crowd was overcome with convulsions.

Jun stared at the citizens from the safety of his ventilated command center and took a sip of wine.

“Play the advertisements.”

The Chinese spokeswoman for Indocrex flashed onto the digital billboards strategically placed throughout the city for maximum exposure. The nanites were activated via a remote signal received from the advertisements and began zapping the brain stem with tiny electrical bursts. The revelers stood up straight and stared blankly at the river. The city famous for never sleeping slowly grinded to a halt.

A red light flashed on one of the consoles near Jun. He slowly lowered his glass and stared at the blinking beacon. Suddenly an ear splitting alarm thundered throughout the ship. Jun covered his ears and dropped his glass, spilling wine all over the steel paneled floor. He rushed over to the technicians fumbling at the controls and grabbed the man by the shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

The technician stared at him with his mouth wide open. His body was trembling and beads of sweat stood on his forehead. Jun pushed him aside and looked at the holographic screen.

“What is this?” He grabbed the technician’s collar and shook him until his head wobbled back and forth. “Why are you arming the missiles?”

Wilmar Luna

Wilmar Luna

Couldn't be a superhero in real life so he decided to write his own. When he's not creating empowered female characters he can be found watching films, reading books, and playing lots of video games. Buy his books here: https://www.thesilverninja.com/purchase/