Assault or Attrition by Blake Northcott Read Free Book Online Page A

pointedly asked if I’d ‘heard the news’, to which I
replied ‘what news?’ So many outlets were covering my every move
that I couldn’t keep track of them all. I assumed that if something
truly significant surfaced, one of my lawyers would call and fill
me in on the details.
    He notified me
that an incoming video was about to play. I darkened the cabin
lights and projected a full-size screen into the air, where an
image of a beautiful woman appeared. Dressed in a stylish black
coat, with her shoulder-length hair tucked behind her ears, the
woman stood in front of Moscow’s Kremlin; the multicolored
onion-dome roofs were clearly visible in the distance. Her
expression was hard, colder than the weather surrounding her.
    “Playback,” I
instructed, and the video came to life.
    “As I stand
here before you,” the woman began in a proper English accent, “the
world bleeds. Billions of our brothers and sisters toil each day,
living well below the poverty line, lacking the basic necessities
that should be afforded to us all. Ravaged by war and disease, this
wound continues to fester.” Her voice was calm and reassuring. She
sounded British, though her angular cheekbones and naturally blond
hair were distinctly Scandinavian.
    “There was a man who had the power to heal it,” she continued. “A
noble man. A beacon of hope in these dark times who brought with
him the promise of better days to come...and he lies martyred,
murdered, in the building behind me.
    “I am here as
an emissary. I have spoken extensively with religious leaders, and
met with the most prominent spiritual figures from every continent.
And while they have differences of opinion when it comes to their
faith, one belief they share is undeniable: they agree that Sergei
Taktarov – Russia’s Son – was brought here for a singular purpose.
That purpose was renewal.
    “He died at the
hands of Matthew Moxon, The God Slayer; an apostate who remains
silent, in hiding, remorseless for his actions. This is
unacceptable.
    “This is not
about hatred or revenge. This is about the long-suffering citizens
of the world who are owed their recompense. They deserve answers.
They deserve the truth. And above all else, they deserve
justice.
    “Please donate,
and give what you can: whether it’s one dollar or a thousand –
whatever the Lord has blessed you with. These funds will be used to
strengthen our movement. Whatever you pledge will be returned to
you tenfold once Matthew Moxon has been found, because when the God
Slayer has paid for his transgressions, a new age of prosperity
will be upon us. It has been foretold, and it shall come to
pass.
    “The crusade is
upon us: we will avenge our loss, destroy the broken system that
plagues us, and rebuild in the ashes. May peace and love be with
you, my brothers and sisters.”
    When the video
concluded my lawyer’s conference call window winked on.
    “Where is this
from?” Brynja asked. “I’ve been scanning the news sites and I
haven’t seen this woman before.”
    Fitzsimmons
paused for a moment and glanced off-camera, riffling through the
hand-written notes on his desk. “It’s one of those crowd-funding
websites...Kashstarter, I believe it’s called.”
    It was
beginning to make sense. Crowd-funding websites have been popular
since before I was born, but most of them required that the project
creator actually offer something in return – a book, a comic, an
invention, or some other tangible item.
    Kashstarter.com, on the other hand, had no such prerequisite. Sign
up for a free account, and five minutes later you can ask people to
donate money for virtually anything. I brought up the site and
expanded the browser window, revealing some of the other projects
that occupied the main page – including a Japanese man who wanted
to raise a million dollars so he could have experimental wings
surgically attached to his back; and a young woman from Brazil was
offering her virginity in exchange for a