Читать книгу The Immune - Doc Lucky Meisenheimer - Страница 6

PROLOGUE

The Immune looked at the four large marine guards standing to either side of the massive metal door bearing the sign RESTRICTED ACCESS. His hand entered the right front pocket of his faded green and brown fatigues. His fingers lightly touched the hilt of the knife. He had shoved the blade through the base of the pocket so the handle wouldn’t show. Not that it mattered. The Pope would more likely be searched upon entering the Vatican than any guard who would attempt to confiscate a weapon from The Immune.

Beyond the door, in an empty room, gagged with arms and legs bound to a chair, sat the infamous prisoner, Joseph Sengele: lunatic and unrepentant biogenetic creator of the airwars, whose continuing random attacks on humanity resulted in tens of millions, if not hundreds of millions, of horrific deaths worldwide. In a moment, The Immune would pass through the door and kill Dr. Sengele.

The Immune never killed a man before, but he had dispatched hundreds of Sengele’s creations. Each represented to The Immune a small step to the ultimate goal of Sengele himself. Should the family of deadly sins ever consider an eighth, vengeance would make a fitting brother. Vengeance is a powerful, life-altering emotion, and no one in history could claim more metamorphosis from this sensation than The Immune. At this point, he knew not whether Sengele’s death would alter the fate of the world, but he believed it would provide him some peace, and certainly a degree of satisfaction. The guards stepped back and the heavy metal door, straining on its hinges, opened for The Immune.