The Collectors Novels & Stories

Who was I kidding? Running wasn't an option either. No one runs from the Russian Bratva. If it were possible, a lot of people would have succeeded. But no one can run from the Bravta and no one can run from the collector. He was a hound dog. I've been cautious enough to know that's it's a useless act and those who did never lived to tell the tale. The sound of my heartbeat pounded loudly in my ears and I managed to find my voice. “Yes. You're the collector.” My stomach tightens as the chair creaks under his weight and my response. “You’re here to collect… my debt.”

That wasn't my assumption, but hearing him say it felt like a gong was struck in my head. "Secondly, the Collectors operate differently from other organisations. We don't do interrogations and arrests like the police." He stated coldly. "No. The collectors, we hunt, we find, we steal, and we kill. It's not a dog-eat-dog world; it's a predators-eat-prey world. See, we don't just kill our enemies, Mr Richards. We feast on their flesh and bathe in their blood. Our level of brutality is second only to nature's cruel conditioning. So tell me, Mr Richards. Would you be willing to bathe in blood for the rest of your life just stand by

he replied. I shrugged in thought. “I know so little about them. It never clicked with me.” He moved to the bed and sat down on its edge. “The soul collectors pursue human wrong doers and harvest their souls to take back to the devil when the human has died. It is rare that they take a human alive. Usually it is because that human is on the brink of death. You are neither evil nor on the brink of death, so why were you taken?”

"You're coming with us." Grace stepped forward. Her newly integrated consciousness made her movements fluid. Certain. But I saw fear in her eyes. Child's fear mixed with ancient wariness. "Who are you?" she asked. "We're Collectors." The figure gestured. More armored soldiers entered. Surrounding us. Cutting off exits. "We harvest enhanced individuals. Extract their abilities. Study their quantum signatures. You—" pointing at Grace, "—you're special. You're integrated consciousness. You're worth more than thousand baseline enhanced."

John raised a brow and turned to Dick, who shook his head. “Interesting. You’ll go to the collection of alphas?” John asked, standing up. The collection of alphas was responsible for his outlawed status. People referred to them as either the “collection of alphas” or as “the collective”. The only desire he had to deal with the collective was to hurt them. The collection of alphas acted like social workers or the modern legal system for wolves. “They would make you pay more.” “You really think they’d help you?” John asked, taking a step toward the other man. All he needed was any excuse to end this sack of shit’s life and he’d do it in a heartbeat.

"Yes?" "Stellan isn't who you think he is. He’s not a protector. He’s a collector." She looked at the dark car with genuine fear in her eyes. "He collects things. Companies. Art. People. And once he has them, he never lets them go. Be careful you don't become just another asset."