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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #2142380
A villainous boss of an illegal organization strives for his goal.
"Now then, bring this traitor to me. I wanna see the face of the man who betrayed me." Hamilton was sitting back in his big leather chair. Two bodyguards were on either side of him, dressed in black suits.

Two men dressed in similar fashion dragged a third man by the arms. White shirt ripped and dirtied in several places, jeans muddy, face bloodied and bruised, he'd obviously recently gone through a beating.

"Taylor Mayer, you were a fresh new recruit in our, gang, a month ago. You looked so excited to join my group of bad boys and girls that I couldn't say no." Hamilton clicked his tongue and shook his head. He got up from his chair and walked around his desk.

Finally he leaned back on his desk right in front of the crouching Taylor. The leader smiled.

"But I hope that eliminating the leader, the opposition sees in you will make all the rest of your buddies reconsider their complaints in relation to my leadership."

Hamilton nodded at each of the men to the sides of the captive and they released Taylor. He got up and immediately charged the leader.

"The world is mine boy." Hamilton said. He took his coat off with a flair. Beneath it both his arms were mechanical, along with the left side of his chest. "The future is in my hands."

Time seemed to stop. Half of Hamilton's vision disappeared and he could only see as if through a camera lens.

He looked at the young man before him, charging at him with a knife in hand, a determined look in his eyes. Cute.

Truth is, time wasn't really stopped. Hamilton's robotic senses were just so advanced and his parts were so well built that he could move and process information at incredible speeds.

He took the knife from the boy's hand. The boy was moving at slower than a turtle's pace.

Hamilton reached out. He took the knife in his hand and moved it so it was just in front of the charging boy's throat.

"Time resumes as normal." Hamilton called to himself

Moments later he was washing his robotic hands in cold water. The water, dyed red was going down the drain. His robotic parts glowed red due to intense heat.

"Boss, I think you burst your chest again and once again I think it's not due to your overflowing love." A lackey was standing back, watching the bathroom entrance for any unwanted hostile activity.

"What do you mean? I have plenty of love. I even spared those guys that rebelled against my control of the city. Just killed the leader, is all." he casually touched the non-robotic part of his chest. His face contorted in agony. "That way they'll be loyal and never betray me again. Guess I'm getting some fancy new parts aren't I. It's a good thing, reminds me that life's not static, gotta be mobile, change with the times."

"If I may sir." the lackey said. Hamilton nodded as he went to the operating room. The lackey followed. "If they betrayed you once they're likely to do it again. Sir."

"True. But I've got to risk it. I need all the manpower I can get. I did promise my son a cure for his condition didn't I?" The condition. A disease that infects people nowadays. It immensely heats up the body temperature of random parts of a person's anatomy. The most common 'cure' is to just replace the broken parts with robotic parts. It was just a way to stay alive though. A temporary one.

On the day Hamilton's son contracted the disease Hamilton swore that he'd sooner die of overheating than let his son face that fate. Hence the robotic parts that take away more and more of his body with each use.

The lackey had often suggested coolers only to be retorted with 'Where's your burning spirit?'.

Hamilton sat down and the doctor checked on him.

"How are things going. Have my men secured the cure?" Hamilton asked as he sat on the doctor's chair while the doctor took some measurements.

The lackey hesitated for a moment.

"Yes sir." he said.

"Yes sir, doesn't cut it. Status report." Hamilton commanded.

"You see sir. While our troops were outside our territory securing the cure some of our troops turned rogue and now the government forces are at our doorstep, sir. The van containing the cure is in the midst of the crowd."

Hamilton stood up. He headed for the exit.

"Sir, we negotiated. They're willing to wait a few hours for your arrival to start negotiations. Please finish your checkup. This is dangerous." the lackey protested.

"Make sure everyone gets out safely through the back. This is a personal affair. I'm not just gonna sit here and wait while the cure is within reach, am I?" Hamilton gave a small smile to his subordinate.

"No sir." the lackey said back. Hamilton was off.

"Now then." Hamilton stood in front of an army. There was a van in the middle of it. "You're in my world here."

Soldiers started dropping left and right. Similar to a line going through the crowd leaving gaps in it. Hamilton stood on the van. Machine guns in both arms. He was completely red due to overheating, sweat was evaporating off his human parts. Several shots were fired at him. He was gone before they reached him.

The lackey walked among the cleared battlefield. Only a sole van stood in the middle, sticking out like a sore thumb.

"Boss, here you go telling your people to evacuate while you 'heroically' slaughter the opposition. Yet who's gonna give the cure to your son, Geez." the lackey shuffled through the van's contents. He found a small vile containing a green liquid.

"Going around telling people you'd take over a city and buy the cure from the government. Then when that failed, you said you'd take it by force. It's funny really, just how far you'd go for your son. You might have an iron heart, but it's burning hot."

The lackey removed one glove with his teeth. He looked at the robotic arm beneath and clenched it. A sole tear fell on the metallic appendage.

"Thank you dad."

Hamilton's son drank the cure.

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