Page 30 of Angel

I’m guessing Sophie Clere is merely a crush. The dazzling superstar who commands the silver screen. I am no different from any of the other men and probably women who adore her from afar.

Some fans are crazy, some relentless, some merely content to dream.

The cogs in my brain work like my algorithms. Everything following a pattern, slotting into place as the data feeds it.

It’s what I’m good at. The AI super king. That is who Jason Prince is by day. Not so much at night.

At night he becomes a monster. If you’re a criminal, that is. He uses his strengths to trap and his cruel, inhuman side to destroy.

A killer, an unforgiving angel of rough justice. Ridding the world of men who seek to destroy the innocent. A warrior. A kind of superhero in my own mind. I hate injustice. I have lived with enough of it to last several lifetimes. Not anymore. Not since The Wild Angels was born.

* * *

I have another day of endless meetings. Something I tolerate as a means to an end. I much prefer to be holed up in my mansion in my den, figuring out upgrades to my system, testing it to its limits. There are many similar systems out there. Competitors, if you like. I analyze their DNA and use their weaknesses to make mine stronger.

It’s good to be a leader and not a follower, and in the case of Power Tech, nobody can touch us.

But first, breakfast.

* * *

Gabriel is waiting; he always is. On the terrace in the early morning sun, with a jug of coffee and enough food to feed a small nation.

He rarely touches it. It is usually parceled up and distributed to the homeless shelter. He hates waste, but loves abundance. He is a complicated man.

As I approach, he watches every move. Cold, calculating, more of a machine than the algorithm feeds.

If he has news, he hides his expression well, and as I take my seat, I reach for the coffee pot, no words passing between us.

“We have a problem.” Is his opening line, and I sip my coffee, waiting for the reason for that.

“Word is that Giovanni picked up a hooker when he left Sophie Clere. He took her to a cheap motel; it is not the first time.”

I shrug. “That’s not unusual.”

“Reckless though. Especially for a man who was rarely out of the news. His image was familiar to everyone, and anyone who studied his movements would have known where he was heading. He used the motel a lot; some say he had a permanent reservation.”

“So, he liked hookers. He wouldn’t be the first actor to enjoy their charms.”

“She was seen leaving around one am. CCTV picked her up strolling off on foot, her purse slung over her shoulder, lighting a cigarette as she went.”

“Do you believe she killed him?”

“No. I do not.”

He leans forward, his gaze cold, calculating, dangerous, and I shrivel a little inside.

“The CCTV picked up another man. At least I believe it to be a man from their build.”

“You believe?”

“He was masked.”

My heart beats a little faster.

“He wore a black leather jacket, black jeans, a bandana tied around his head and a skeleton mask covering the lower part of his face.”

“Fuck!”