Chapter 107: No Loose Ends
The opulent living room of the Wallenbern Estate was a charnel house. The scent of spilled blood, thick and coppery, mingled with the faint, sharp smell of ozone. Ornate furniture was overturned, and the bodies of maids and security guards lay twisted on priceless Persian rugs, their loyalty repaid with swift, brutal efficiency.
In the center of the carnage, Robert Wallenbern was on his knees. One eye was swollen shut, his lip was split, and a dark bruise was already purpling along his jaw. He was a king in the ruins of his castle, breathing in ragged, painful gasps.
Standing over him, immaculate in black tactical gear, was McKnight, flanked by two towering Echo Soldiers. They were perfectly still, their faces impassive masks of conditioned obedience.
McKnight circled Robert slowly, his boots silent on the blood-stained marble. "You were lucky, Robert," he began, his voice a calm, conversational lecture. "Truly. Standard decommissioning protocol for a family being pulled from the Table is simple liquidation. No loose ends, no risk of secrets getting out. But the Apostle granted you a gift. Freedom. A quiet retirement in a Swiss villa with your remaining wealth." He paused, crouching slightly to look Robert in his one good eye. "But you just had to betray them. A foolish, sentimental thing to do."
Robert spat a glob of blood and saliva onto the floor. A broken, sneering smirk twisted his lips. "You stole it!" he growled, his voice a guttural rasp. "After everything my family sacrificed, everything we built... they took our legacy and they’re just gonna give it to some punk in the Philippines!"
A cold, humorless smile touched McKnight’s lips. "Your family has been receiving help from the Table since the end of the Great War, Robert. You were propped up, an asset given every advantage. But a cost-benefit analysis was run, and you were found wanting," McKnight said, standing up straight. "A better potential member arose. Bytebull. Or, shall I say, Richard Santamo. He built an empire without our help, save for a few strings we pulled in the government to reduce friction. He has vision. You just had to want everything."
McKnight nodded to the soldier on Robert’s right. "Besides, the Table always prefers an asset with a leash. And Richard has one."
The soldier stepped forward. His uniform was identical to the other Echo Soldier’s, his face obscured by a full helmet, his posture that of a mindless puppet.
"You were let go because you’re a liability, Robert. Volatile, unpredictable," McKnight continued, his voice dropping. "But Richard... Richard has a weakness. Meet Subject Omega. Or as he was once known, Ronnie Santamo. Richard’s brother."
The name hit Robert harder than any physical blow. His face went slack with dawning horror as he stared at the emotionless soldier.
"Captured by yours truly," McKnight added with a hint of pride. "Conditioned at Black Site Nyrrh-Zeta to be the perfect warrior slave for his new masters. You see, whether Richard chooses to join the Table or not, we have his brother. Humans like us... we tend to surrender everything when family is on the line. It’s a design flaw we are very, very good at exploiting."