The sharp odor of burnt wood filled the air of Jonah’s chamber as the wood inside the repurposed 55-gallon drum smoldered, its contents reduced to a bed of glowing embers. Their faint orange glow painted the room in an eerie light, highlighting the frantic dance of numbers and symbols cascading down the computer screen. It was a digital waterfall with each dataset and open-source libraries like TensorFlow and PyTorch all pieces of the forbidden fruit – a powerful AI program being meticulously siphoned by a thumb drive smaller than his pinkie finger.
Internally, Jonah chastised himself and his arrogance, believing that the Vatican Knights could be bested by another elite faction. But sending a ragtag team of mercenaries against the Vatican Knights was like hurling pebbles at a fortress wall. The Knights had cut through his hired team like a scythe through wheat, leaving a bloody swathe of destruction in their wake. The memory sent a fresh wave of fury crashing over him since he was not one for taking a loss too well.
On the screen, the download bar ticked relentlessly closer to completion, with each tick a small victory. Ninety-five percent. It wasn't perfect, but in the grand scheme of what he wanted to accomplish, it was enough data with the potential to ignite a future firestorm that he could unleash far from the grasping fingers of the Vatican.
There was a flicker on the screen, the characters and symbols jumping. The progress bar had frozen at mid-crawl, the torrent of data grinding to a halt. Then, the screen flickered again, this time violently, before plunging into an inky blackness. In its place, a cartoonish image materialized – a skull leering back at him with a wide, toothy grin, rendered in garish red and green crossbones. The system was down.
Jonah slammed his fist against the desk, the sound echoing in the silent room. Frustration warred with a strange sense of exhilaration. Ninety-five percent. It wasn't a complete picture, but was it enough to spread discord? Was it enough to rewrite the established order with a digital hand? His grim set of lips spread across his face that was devoid of warmth, and filled only with a cold, calculating malice.
"Come to me, Isaiah," he murmured with a venomous whisper of malice. "Come to me and let me show you the Light you all yearn for." He glanced down at the thumb drive in his palm, a tiny sliver of metal holding the potential to rewrite the world. It felt surreal, the sheer power condensed into such a small, unassuming object.
The Vatican Knights were coming, of that much he was certain. The ruthless efficiency with which they had dispatched his men was a testament to their resolve. But Jonah wouldn't be here to greet them. Then he raised the thumb drive and smiled. He wouldn't just rewrite the world, he thought. he would make the Vatican regret the day they crossed him.