General Art Greater Good, Greater Game

[Myriadviper42]

Welcome to my next story here at ZD! Hope you enjoy, give some constructive criticism, etc. And just so you know, any change from third person to first person in the prologue is completely intentional.



"Two of the greatest flaws of mankind are its tendency to apply meaning to things that have no meaning, and its arrogant belief that it is always right and that anyone who disagrees is wrong. As it is, there are mysteries of the universe that mankind could never hope to unlock, and indeed would best be kept secret..."

-Bartholomew Trueman


Prologue

He could feel the cold metal against his palm. His grip was like a vise, and his breathing was deep and slow. It was strange to think that such a small object could snuff a person's life out instantly. A hole would be left in the people around him, knowing that that person would never come back. It was strange to think about. Very strange. Almost surreal. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly. Calmly. The car was musty, hot. His grip released on the gun, and he closed his eyes. Open. He glanced at his watch, to check the timeframe. Almost. Almost. Almost. His free hand, the one not holding the gun, twitched. Soon soon soon soon soon.

He was a rather attractive man, in his twenties. He had shortish dark brown hair, a prominent nose, and tan skin. His small green eyes constantly flitted about, and he had a rather muscular frame. He could hear the sounds of the party from his car. Boring, boring, and boring. Upper-class, high-and-mighty-snot-nosed cowards dressed in human skin. And tuxedos/dresses, depending on the gender. Or at least, those were some of the thoughts going through his mind. It might be a good time to note that the man in question, holding a gun in his hand and preparing himself for something was not entirely stable. Not entirely. His name was Damien Byrne. No criminal record. No reason to do what he was about to do. At all. Apparently.

His grip loosened slightly on the gun, and his eyes looked toward his watch once again. Now it was time. Time...the last time, and the first time, all in one! A small, slightly crazy smile flitted across his face and he opened the car door, stepping out into the parking lot, putting a silencer on his gun as he did so. He strode towards the doors of the building with a purpose, wearing his best suit and tie. His breathing started to speed up, however he managed to control it. Why was he doing this again? Why did he HAVE to, exactly? He wasn't sure it was worth it. Was it? Remember the mission, he told himself. This has to be right. Sooner or later they'll lock me up, might as well rush it a little bit so it's on my terms, yes, yes. Then when the time is right I will be ready.

He arrived at the door. A guard stood watch, letting visitors in and out. Currently there was no one going in, no one going out. Except for Damien, of course. Which is just how they planned it, yes, yes. So far, so good. The guard looked up at him, and his reflexes were one second too late. Damien had already pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting the poor guard in the forehead. No one had witnessed the incident. Yes, the time frame was indeed correct, yes. He hid the guard's body in the bushes and walked into the building. He wouldn't worry about someone not noticing a guard. It would be the least of their worries.

He looked around at the ornate hall. It was made entirely of marble, with green drapes around the place. There were string instruments and chatter in his ears, and he looked around, seeing the people mingling with one another, laughing with one another. It made him squirm with disgust, and he found his target. A pudgy man, sitting at one of the many tables in the room, laughing merrily with several other people. He put his hands in his pocket and unscrewed the silencer. Then, with an eerie calm, he raised the gun at the pudgy man, still chortling and taking a sip of wine-

Bang.

Screams erupted from the party as the host fell over, a bullet wound in his chest. Instantly Damien gauged it to be fatal. He turned towards the nearest person, a woman hastily backing away from him. Another shot, another life ended with a pull of the trigger. He raised the gun and fired shot after shot, and each shot found its mark. Dead bodies littered the floor. The crowd was in a frenzy, scrambling to get out of the building with a mad ferocity, as more people kept falling left and right. Security guards ran towards him, guns raised as Damien stood calmly on the bloodstained floor.

"Freeze! Now!"

The words rang out, echoing off the walls, and Damien turned towards the four men moving cautiously toward him, guns raised. Damien's gun fell to the floor, and he smiled politely at the guards.He raised his hands over his head, getting on his knees, and accepted his fate.

All according to plan.


Chapter 1

My mind has been uneasy for a while now. I do not know the ultimate source, however it just is. I feel like I'm missing something critically important, but I have no earthly idea what it is. I've been thinking a lot about the past lately, my past, to be more exact. I do have quite the past. I sigh and decide to mull this over once again, neglecting the business meeting I'm supposed to be attending right now. They won't need me. Perhaps, if I go over again all the horrors in my past once more, I can determine the source of what's troubling me. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I look at myself in the mirror. I see my short dark hair, big nose, and my green eyes. The face that was strung all over the news after...it happened.

Ten years ago, on a September night, my twin brother, Damien, killed thirteen people at a party, for no apparent reason whatsoever. No one was able to determine any motive, and he was imprisoned for life. And, being the twin brother of a headline-making homicidal maniac, I've gotten my fair share of stares, although that has of course dwindled significantly over the course of ten years. Then, I decided to get my mind off of it and do some good in the world, and went to Sudan as a UN peacekeeper and got my leg blown off. Always fun, I know. Then, I returned to find that my wife had deserted me, leaving me with a newborn daughter. It was a hard year. A brother, a wife, and a leg all lost.

Since then, I've been working to turn my life around, and for the most part have. I have a steady job as a businessman, I'm getting good money, my daughter and I are happy. However, lately, there's been an uneasiness around me. I can feel it. I feel like there's someone watching me, someone observing me. I see someone abnormal, out of place in the busy New York crowd, looking at me, and then the next moment gone. It is disorienting. It's not that I'm afraid, per say. I'm just...unsettled. It could be nothing, it could just be my imagination running wild, but then again, who knows? God knows I sure don't.

My cell phone rings. I sigh. It's probably my boss, asking why I'm not at the meeting. I look at the caller I.D. but it isn't my boss. It's a different number, not one I recognize. I answer.

"Hello, this is Daniel Byrne, how can I help you?"

There's a pause, and then a man answers. "Hello, Mr. Byrne. My name is Joseph Slater. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Slater? From AlTech Industries?"

"The very same. I'm calling to arrange a potential business meeting with you, Mr. Byrne. My clients have taken an interest in you and your work. We feel that we could reach some...mutually beneficial agreement."

"Well...if you insist, Mr. Slater. I must say, I didn't think our corporation was quite large enough to get your attention."

"Are you complaining," he says, a note of amusement in his tone.

"No no," I say hurriedly, "just a little surprised is all. All right. Is there a specific place you'd like to discuss?"

"Yes, yes. I like to do one-on-one business dealings in Starbucks. Nice latte, you know."

"This is a one-on-one business dealing?"

"No, just to start out with. Just want to see what we're getting into."

"Understood. Friday, at noon?"

"You have a deal."

"Goodbye, Mr. Slater."

I hang up. Something still seems off. And I'm still not sure what it is. I look around my house. Perhaps this business dealing could be the distraction I need to get my unease off my mind. I've heard of Slater. He's a very successful businessman, to be associated with him could mean a huge improvement for me right now. So I'll go to this business dealing. See what he has to offer. And hey, if life gives you lemons? Make lemonade. But then again, in the space of one year, life gave me a total of three brussels sprouts (my least favorite food ever. Of all time.), and I had to take them too. So is this a Brussels sprout, or a lemon? ...and now that I just asked that question I feel really stupid about it. Great.

***

Slater hung up the phone and smirked. Slater himself was young-looking, with long light-brown hair and beady brown eyes, and a pale complexion. He looked slick as an eel, and had been compared to as such on many occasions. He was noted as always wearing a suit and tie, and maintaining an aloofness towards his clients, as if he considered himself better than them.

"Did he take it, Joe?"

The other man in the room was a far cry from his companion. He was short, squat, and had a face that looked like an anvil had been dropped on it. He wore a salmon button-up shirt, and seemed to have a permanent scowl etched on his face. Duly noted, a far cry from the elegant snake of Joseph Slater.

"I told you not to call me Joe," Slater said, concealing a fake yawn behind his thin fingertips.

The second man snorted. "Yeah, whatever. I don't get why ya don't like it. Perfectly good name, after all," he drawled, his nasally voice grating on Slater's ears. He sat in his chair stiffly, as if afraid that if he were to relax he'd get an allergic reaction.

Slater ignored this. His companion, Grant Aamor, was a direct representative of the boss and therefore could not be thrown out a window without fearing the boss's wrath, a fact which greatly irked Slater. "Grant, just so you know, we have arranged a meeting for Friday, and I am certain that we'll be able to get the money easily. Don't worry about it."

Grant openly scoffed at this. "Don't worry about it? Yeah, I'm worrying about it. That's my job, thankyouverymuch, good day, sooooo, Mr. Joe Slater, please do me a favor and reassure me-and the boss-that you can get this done."

"You know me," Slater said, sitting down. "I've done this kind of thing before."

"Well, you know, we kind of need that piece of equipment, and we just might need to have the money to buy it. And even though you seem to think that we have unlimited resources, Master Slater, the fact is..." His face, if possible, contorted even more. "...we don't. So if you would, PLEASE do us a favor and give us a GUARANTEE that you can GET THIS DONE?" As he said the words, Aamor stood up and advanced on Slater, jabbing his finger at him.

Slater looked at him, unimpressed, mainly because Aamor didn't have that great a shouting voice and the fact that he was five foot zero. "Don't worry about it. I have everything under control. Now if you could do me the favor of leaving..."

Aamor grumbled, and stomped off, opening and slamming the door in his wake. Slater rolled his eyes, and sighed.

"Could this plan get any more convoluted?" he grumbled, as he examined a mugshot.

A mugshot of a certain Damien Byrne.

***


Well, I hope you enjoyed. It may seem rather small-scale at the moment, but I assure you, it's not. Dr. Horrible's character appeared first because the rest of the protagonists will be introduced a couple of chapters in at the same time. So you have that to look forward to. Thank you, leave your thoughts, some criticisms, bye.

 

[TatlTails]

Gahmksadvn;rjoijgo;tr/znrg[nio IT STARTED ALREADY. I WANT THIS TO CONTINUE AT ALL HASTE BECAUSE THIS IS ALREADY SETTING UP TO BE REALLY GOOD. SO YEAH. I SHOULD PROBABLY STOP TYPING BEFORE I CAPS LOCK YOUR EYES OFF.

 

[Doc]

I liked it, you have the intrigue and mystery going on at the moment. As for criticism, all I can say is try to make events like the phone call more important. This seemed like a big deal to the character, but I can only assume that.

Other than that, I look forward more.

 

[Myriadviper42]

Chapter 2

I sit down at my table, lounging placidly and calmly in the chair. I have on a suit and tie, and I am completely prepared for the meeting. AlTech Industries...one of the most successful businesses in the entire United States. They make a fortune off of technology, electronics, and often have contracts with the army for them to buy their weapons. So, weapons, electronics, science, they're big in all those areas. They aren't limited to one area of expertise in that matter. If my company has caught their eye, something's happening. Something big. I'm just not sure whether it's good or bad. Slater's a bit of a controversial figure, with several unjustified lawsuits against him that ended in his favor. Some people think he should be in jail right now, some think he's a saint. Honestly, I think he's a good businessman, but don't really know much about his morals. I guess I'll find out.

The waitress brings me my coffee and I take a sip, tapping my fingers on the table. I glance over to the door every couple of seconds, as if he will suddenly spring out of nowhere, but he's not here yet. After about five minutes, the door opens, and a man enters wearing a suit and tie. He's rather young, with long sandy hair and beady eyes. He's rather lean and wiry, and his hair is slicked back. He has a bit of a pointed face. I'm still not sure what to think of him. He notices me, the only person wearing such formal clothes apart from himself, and waves to me, moves over and sits down across from me, sighing in relief. The waitress notices the new arrival and moves over to my table again.

"Sir, may I get you something to drink?"

"A latte would be great, thank you, thank you."

As the waitress hurries away, his eyes meet mine, and he smiles sincerely. "So you're Daniel Byrne. I'm Joseph Slater.

"Yeah," I say kind of rudely, "you said over the phone."

He laughs. "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to be polite. You could do the same, Daniel. It's good to be professional."

I clear my throat. "Sorry, sorry. Just a little stressed out right now is all."

I think I see a smirk flit across his face for a moment, but it's gone so quickly I'm not sure whether it was real or not. "Very well," he says, clearing his throat, "let's get down to business."

"Let's."

He leans forward in his chair, a strand of his hair falling in his eyes. "You are going to help us."

"Hmn? Help you with what? What do I have that AlTech Industries requires?"

Slater chuckles. "This isn't about your company. We require something from you, Daniel Byrne."

Something's wrong. That feeling in my stomach is back again. "W-what do you need from me?"

Slater and I make eye contact. Something in his eyes scares me, a kind of hardness, an intensity, but his mouth is curled into a little smile, one that sends warning bells to me, but I can't move away.

"I believe that your company recently interacted with a Russian weapons company recently."

"Yes? What of it."

"I...require the location of one of their products."

"What? They're secretive, they're not about to let me waltz in there and let me look at their records."

His smile turns into a smirk, and he leans over towards me. This is bad...I have a pit feeling in my stomach, and I want to run away. I glance towards the door, but he sees it and he chuckles.

"I require the location, Mr. Byrne. Now, could you humor me for a second?" he asks quietly.

"What?" I mutter.

"You have a daughter, don't you?"

"What of it?"

He leans back. "Elisa Gabrielle Byrne, age 9. 2311 Elm Street. Correct?" His smirk continues to linger on his face.

My mouth opens slightly, then I close it. I furrow my eyebrows and lean in towards him. "Are you threatening me, Mr. Slater?" I say, teeth grit.

"No," he says arrogantly, "not yet. But if you fail in your objective, I might just...drop by for a personal visit."

"So this is blackmail," I say, and he gives me an oily grin.

"Let me run the full memo by you," he says, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of his latte. "We require the location of model M280-32 of a certain...device. The records will be located in one of their office buildings. You, my dear friend, are going to go in there on pretense of a meeting and get those files for me. You will meet me here exactly..." He looks at his watch. "48 hours from now. Understood?

I slam my hands on the table. "You think I'm going to go through with this? You've got another thing coming to you, you oily little-"

"Now now, Daniel, let's not make a scene." He points with his thumb to the waitress, who is standing there with a shocked look on her face. Some of the other customers are staring at us now as well. I groan silently. Just what I need right now. Just what I need right now.

I looks at him, hate filling my veins more so than blood. "Fine. I'll do it, Slater. I'll get that ****ing thing for you."

He smiles. "Good boy. Your brother will be proud of you."

With that, he gets up and leaves the Starbucks, striding out of it like he owned the place. I sit there for a couple of minutes in silence, taking a sip from my coffee every once in a while. Now I see why Joseph Slater has been sued multiple times. I try to think about the situation. What motivation could Slater have for wanting a Russian device? Is he acting on orders of AlTech? Is that what he meant by "we" or something else? I sigh. It doesn't make sense, and it doesn't matter that it doesn't make sense. I take a deep breath. View this objectively. Don't let emotion get in the way of my thinking. So. Joseph Slater has blackmailed me into supplying him with the location of a Russian device of some sort. If I don't he...is going to kill my daughter. My stomach feels like butterflies are trying to tear their way out of it, and I look at my hand to see that it is shaking.

Then, something occurs to me. His last words he spoke to me. Your brother will be proud of you. I'd thought he'd been referring to his own little criminal bout ten years ago that landed him in jail. But he'd used the word will. Not would. My brain starts going into overdrive. Maybe I won't have to follow through with his blackmail. If I could find out exactly what is going on with these people, perhaps I could land Slater in jail. Right now it's my word against his, and Slater always wins his lawsuits and court trials. So I have to have evidence. This could be nothing, but he distinctly said "will" when referring to my brother. Perhaps my brother had something to do with this. I stand up, and throw my coffee away. Maybe there is a connection.

I think it's time I paid Damien Byrne a visit for the first time in ten years.

***

Slater walked with a purpose through the city streets, a smile on his face. Finally, something was going right. After years of close calls that could have ended with him in jail, he had to be more cautious than ever with his blackmail and industrial espionage. Soon, Damien Byrne would be free of prison and the plan would go into action. What he didn't understand, however, was the fact that they'd accelerated the plan so much. They were racing against the clock, and their efforts would have to be like clockwork in order for their plan to succeed. If not, well, he knew what would happen, and the people would only know when it was too late. Like clockwork.

His eyes flitted about, scanning the people around him. Old habits die hard. Lately, Slater could never shake the feeling that he was being watched. He thought he might have a pretty shrewd idea of who might be watching him, but he couldn't give any indication that he noticed the observer's presence. Storm clouds rumbled overhead, and he felt a drop of water hit his arm. He held his suit jacket close to him. He had to reach the subway soon. He didn't like the rain. It was cold, inconvenient, and brought back bad memories. Bad memories. His eyes caught a glimpse of a figure ducking into an alleyway, trying to remain out of sight. He gripped his gun. Perhaps it was time to see who or what he was up against.

He maintained a pretense of walking away, but in reality silently doubled back behind a trash barrel directly in front of the alleyway. The rain was in full force now, and he pulled out his gun as he heard wet footsteps emerging from the alleyway. As he saw the man about to round the corner, he lunged out and slammed the man into the alley wall. He held the man tightly in his grip, who struggled to break free from his grip, to no avail. Slater's grip was too strong.

"Well well, what have we here?" Slater cooed, a smirk on his face. "A spy?"

The man yelled out. "Help! Officers! I'm being violated!" he cried out in a singsong voice, his accent clearly British.

Slater slammed him into the wall in response to the juvenile joke, and the man cried out, and then kicked Slater sharply in the shins. Slater stumbled, and the man slipped out of his grasp and brought his fist to Slater's face. The blow made contact, and Slater stumbled backward. The man charged at him, and Slater punched and kicked at him, trying to use the wet ground to his advantage. Slater managed to swipe his legs out from under his feet, and the man fell on his back on the ground. Slater's boot connected with face, and blood started pouring down the British man's face as thunder roared. Suddenly, Slater felt the breath knocked out of his stomach as the man almost inhumanly quickly managed to get on his feet and slam him with the entirety of his body weight.

Slater's gun clattered to the ground, and the other man kicked it away from him. Both men were bloodied, and barely recognizable in the heavy rain. Slater grabbed his head in a headlock and gripped tightly around his neck. The man struggled to break free, gasping for breath, but could not manage to break free. Finally, the other man slipped into unconsciousness. Lightning lit up the alleyway and Slater caught for the first time a view of his attacker's face. He smiled. Just as he thought. He moved away from the man's unconscious body and picked up his silenced gun, and pointed it at the man's unconscious body. He prepared to end his life.

"Hey!" A woman stood at the end of the alleyway, an umbrella in her hands. "What's going on in there?" Slater cursed silently. He couldn't allow any chance of being recognized, and the woman ran into the alleyway. He couldn't allow his face to be seen. Slater ran, leaving the woman finding the wounded man, and subsequently attempted to revive him. Slater ran and made it to the subway station, panting for breath as he passed security with only a raised eyebrow from his bloodied form. He sat down on the subway and sighed in relief, slumping gratefully.

Outside, in the rain, a man in a trench coat watched everything. Thunder crackled as he wrote a note down in a book, and then turned and walked away.

 

[Sheik]

HOW THE HELL DO YOU RIGHT SO WELL!? Hey, that rhymed...

I love it. I absolutely love it. So suspenseful and thrilling! One thing, though, and this isn't at all a big deal, but... Slater tells Daniel to give him the information, else he kills his daughter. Instead of going with the blackmail, couldn't Daniel just... tell the police that Slater has threatened to kill his daughter...? Maybe there's some reason I missed? Other than that nitpick, I love it.

 

[TatlTails]

Dude... This is getting good. I was SO happy to see you'd updated. MAKE MOA I AM GETTING ADDICTED.

 

[Myriadviper42]

You guys have literally seen nothing yet. NOTHING.

Chapter 3

The hallway is well-kept, but depressing. That much can be said without dispute. It is gray and drab, as befits a prison. Immaculate. But cold. The guard leads me past the cells, and I look inside to see the prisoners, a large variety of people, all glancing up at me with a passive interest, but nothing more. They seem to have accepted their lot in life for the most part, although of course there are exceptions. It's not quite as exciting as movies make it out to be. My eyes start to droop a bit. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night. Am I wasting my time here? I don't know, but Slater seemed to be acting on someone else's orders, so I need to find out if my brother has anything to do with it. If not, oh well. If so, well, I might try to find out exactly what is going on here.

"So, Mr. Byrne," the guard says with a polite smile on his face, "what made you decide you wanted to visit your brother after ten years of nothing?"

I shrug. "I guess I feel...obligated to, and I'm a bit ashamed that I haven't seen him in that long."

The last time I saw my brother was at the trial, ten years ago. The guard nods. "Well...be careful...this one's a bit unhinged. Wasn't put into an asylum, I guess cause he's not crazy enough, but he's still a bit off his rocker." The guard stops at a cell and pulls out his key. "If you need me, just holler."

I nod. "Thank you, sir."

He opens the cell and allows me to step inside. Sitting on a bench is the shadow of the brother I knew ten years ago. The brother I knew was always clean, unkempt, tidy, always trying to live up to the expectations of our father, and never succeeding. Now his hair is mangy and reaches his shoulders. However, his eyes bore steadily into mine, and his lip curls into a thin smile. His body is relaxed, and his trademark amused expression that he'd perfected ever since childhood sits on his face now, in this thin, mangy man's face. One day before he'd gone on a shooting spree, he'd called me and apologized for his behavior, that he shouldn't have acted so selfishly. Now look at him. I move towards him and sit down in a chair, and we do nothing but look at each other for a while, my face hard and intense, his face still amused.

He finally breaks the silence. "Hello, brother. Long time no see." His voice is raspy but still has that sarcastic edge I used to hate.

"Damien," I say shortly, not saying anything more. Unlike him, I am tense, because he seems completely at ease, like he's just sitting in his room, not a prison cell.

He shrugs, raising an eyebrow. "What? Not going to say hello? It's been a long time, Danny."

"I'm not here to catch up, Damien. I doubt you'd have much interesting stories from that side of the bars."

"You're on that side of the bars right now," he points out. I'd forgotten his annoying habit of taking literal things and applying them to my statements.

"That has nothing to do with it! I need to talk with you about something!"

"...I assume that I actually need to listen?"

I sigh. Same old Damien, only now his comments have a sinister edge to them, and there's a fractured light in his eyes that concerns me. I take a deep breath, and try to calm myself. "Do
you know someone named Joseph Slater?"

He perks up a little bit. "Hmn...not sure. My memory's not as good as it used to be. Why?"

"What do you mean, not sure? It's a simple question, give me a goddamn simple answer!"

He leans towards me. "Come on! Do you always have to have everything spelled out for you? Dense, dense, dense, I say." He starts speaking faster and faster as he goes along. "You always were the slower one, I tried so hard to beat you and I always did, and yet it was always little presents for Daniel and Daniel this and Daniel that! Kids at school always called me DANIEL and yet YOU never got mixed up with me, NO!" "

He stands up, looking at me with hatred. I step back, scared at the sudden transition from joking to furious. "DANIEL BYRNE, THE LIKABLE KID OF THE FAMILY! DANIEL BYRNE THIS, DANIEL BYRNE THAT, I'M TIRED OF IT! TEN YEARS WASN'T ENOUGH TIME AWAY FROM YOU YOU BAST-"

The door swings open, and the guard runs in, yelling. Damien's moving towards me, hands raised. Two guards restrain him but he continues yelling. "SO WHAT IF I MIGHT BE WORKING WITH SLATER? WHAT'S IT TO YOU? DANIEL NEVER HAS ANY PROBLEMS IN HIS LIFE, DANIEL LIVES HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND-"

A guard sinks a tranquilizer into his skin, and he stops struggling and falls limp. The guard who escorted me to Damien's cell looks at me in sympathy. "Sorry you had to endure that. He's not exactly the sanest person in this facility. He's prone to sudden mood changes, and...you know..."

I nod, a little horrified at the raging lunatic my brother had become. "Thank you sir...I'll be leaving now."

"Don't blame you. Probably wasn't the best idea to visit him."

I nod, and walk out of the building, mind working in overtime. So. Judging from some of his screaming, he did reveal that he knew Slater. But what does that mean? How and why is my brother connected with him? And what does my brother have to do with stealing the location of a top secret device? It makes no sense, and yet all I know now is that I need to get the task Slater set me done. Or else. What the hell are these people up to? What are they trying to accomplish? Is AlTech Industries behind this? As I enter the parking lot, my mind is filled with questions. I take a deep breath. If there is any honor among thieves, Slater will keep his end of the bargain. I hope. It is all I can do, to hope. I need a plan of action. This cannot end with me doing what Slater says. Or perhaps I could do what Slater says, and keep an eye on him after it is complete. Perhaps I could find out who he is working for and turn them in to the authorities. It is worth a shot.

I get on the bus. I pull up the location of the building on my phone, and I see what stop I have to get off to find it. I sit there, hot and tired, about to fall asleep. My stop comes, and I drag myself out of the musty, comfortable yellow caravan and start walking. New York. The city that never sleeps. I find the building, run a comb through my hair, and straighten my suit and tie. I need to look professional, and I can't look like I just got out of bed. I've booked an appointment with Mr. Avery, a prominent figure in this company. I'm supposed to be talking about some product...or something. I don't know, the important thing is that I am in the building. I walk up to the desk lady and lean against the desk.

"Appointment with Mr. Avery."

She looks on her computer for a bit and then looks back at me. "Mr. Byrne?"

"Yes."

"All right. He's waiting for you on the fourth floor, room 413."

"Thank you." I press the button on the elevator, and it opens almost immediately. A couple of people get out, and I get in, and press the number four. The vacuum that is the elevator, the quiet noise it manifests in my eardrum only intensifies my feeling of unease. Ding. The door opens, and I walk down a hallway for the second time today. It's a bit more colorful than the previous one, but still very rigid. I knock on the door, and it opens. Mr. Avery, a small gentleman with a pointed nose and beady eyes welcomes me into the room.

"Mr. Byrne! Daniel! It's a pleasure to meet you, come in, have a seat, have a seat." He motions towards a seat across from him, and smiles warmly at me. I nod and smile in greeting, and take the seat.

"It's a pleasure to be here."

He nods. "Shall we get down to business?"

I nod, but then I contort my face slightly. "Yes...yes...I'm sorry, where's the nearest restroom?"

"Down the hall to the right. Are you feeling all right, Mr. Byrne?"

In response, I bolt out of the room and stumble into the restroom, and start retching in the stall. Nothing comes out, as intended. I've always prided myself on my ability to make convincing retching noises. After it "stops," I kneel in the dirty stall, breathing heavily. Mr. Avery stands out in the hallway, asking if I'm alright. Obviously, I'm not, and I tell him that we should postpone the meeting, as I'm still not feeling well. Before I know it, I'm back on the elevator going down, but I don't go down to the lobby. I get off at floor 2, and I quickly sneak into the file room. Model M280-32. If I can find where that model is located, then I'll be good. I start searching through the files, looking for M280-32, M280-32...I find a folder marked Highly Experimental. Why not? I comb through it for a couple of minutes, and then there it is.

M280-32 Atom Accelerator. Potentially capable of melting solids. Currently being held in Boston, 1356 Lark St. Extremely dangerous.

 

[TatlTails]

Oooooooo, scary crazy guy and secret melty thing. Danny's got a lot on his plate, man.

 

[*M i d n a*]

Good story so far, Myriad, perhaps the very best I have read from you--not to take anything away from your previous work, of course, but I do like where this is heading. I mean, you already put me on edge waiting to see what's gonna happen. Will Daniel be able to do this for that man, Slater, and save his daughter? Will Slater not keep his end of the bargain? And what about Damien? That psycho is behind it all, or part of something macabre, a plan I am guessing to hurt humanity in some way, or just the US, depends how deep their plan is. I liked the battle scene with that other unknown man. I take it we'll be seeing more of that hurt man in future chapters. Overall, I like the way you advanced the story, but I thought you could have described a few things, or made it a little more interesting: when the waitress brings Slater's latte, you did not mention that, but you didn't have to, it was still very good as it was written. And the other part was where Daniel actually went into the file room, you could have put a guard or something there to make it a little more interesting, I mean, that file seemed a little too important to me to not be guarded at all. IMO Daniel had it easy and at the end of your chapter I was like..."What? Just like that he faked being ill and got into the file room without no one even seeing him?" Regardless, it is still very good, keep it up.

Oh, and I don't like pointing out typos and stuff, but perhaps you could correct this if you are up to it: I looks at him, hate filling my veins more so than blood. "Fine. I'll do it, Slater. I'll get that ****ing thing for you."

 

[Myriadviper42]

Thank you for reading and for your constructive criticism, Gobli. The reason I don't do many stories in the real world is because I have trouble with making it believable and making sense. So if there's logic holes or something that isn't like it is in reality, you know why. A Merry Christmas to you all! I probably won't update again 'til after the New Year, so, enjoy!

Chapter 4

"Slater, you complete DOLT. You could ruin EVERYTHING! Do you really think Marcus is going to be happy with you if he finds out you led Mister Goody-Two-Shoes over there to Damien? And, forgive me, why did you choose this plan? Too lazy to get the plans yourself? If this plan goes sour, then Marcus will know where to place the blame-solely at your feet!"

Slater sighed. The organic package of condescension and whiny tendencies known as Grant Aamor had not taken too kindly to finding out that Daniel Byrne had gone to visit Damien after a slip of the tongue during their meeting. Or that he was now aware of the device they required to get Damien out of jail-which Slater admitted was part of the plan. Not part of the plan was Daniel knowing anything else about the plan, so it was entirely possible that he'd put two and two together and now knew that they were planning a jailbreak for his dear brother. Whose brain had in all honesty collected a bit of dust over the years, but Slater knew that he was sane...barely. However, he was necessary, according to Marcus. Marcus had once threatened to kill Slater for being unnecessary. How Slater was unnecessary and Grant was was beyond Slater.

"Grant. Calm down. Even if Byrne has managed to find anything out about our operation, I still hold the threat of his daughter's murder over his head. I can always extend it past the blackmail. He wouldn't be able to tell anyone."

Grant snorted, and rolled his eyes. "You ran into one of Malcolm's people after the meeting with Byrne, did you not?"

"Not just one of Malcolm's people, Malcolm himself. I nearly killed him."

"Emphasis on nearly," Grant sneered, getting up in Slater's face. "Fact is, he's still alive, and knows about Byrne. His damned little rodent infestation thrives on people who've been wronged by us. You'd give them a valuable asset like Byrne just like that. They find out our plans from him, and they try to stop us."

"Emphasis on try." Slater didn't back down, instead, leaning over, his face only inches away from Grant's. "They have no idea what they are dealing with. They come after us, it'll be a lot bigger than revenge for a few loved ones. Plus, can Byrne even fire a gun? If they recruit him, how much use will he actually be?"

Grant backed up slightly, his scowl lessening slightly. "You don't know anything about Byrne, do you." He sighed. "They see us as being monsters. People with complete apathy towards the people around them, when the opposite is true. It's for the greater good, Joseph. All of this...it's hard to prepare for something this big on the good side of the law. We need that device, Joe. Show precautions for once, and don't screw this up. So what are you going to do to make sure this turns out the way we want it to?"

Slater sighed in relief, glad to see that Grant was calming down some. He looked around the room, and then pulled out his phone, dialing a number. It rang three or four times before a man picked up on the other side.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Agent Key. It's me."

"If it isn't Mr. Slater, the big man himself. What do you have for me?"

"At the meeting with Byrne, I would like you to stand watch a block away, and after we're finished with the meeting, I want you to kill him and dispose of the body. No witnesses, of course. Tell Katherine to keep watch at 2311 Elm Street, and if he betrays us, order her to kill the little girl in the building, Elisa, but only if."

There was a silence for a couple of seconds, and then Key's voice came back on. "Killing little girls. What's our organization come to, Slater?"

Even Slater was surprised by the lack of empathy, the nonchalance in Key's tone. Adrian Key was an enforcer of the organization's dirty work, but Slater had never known him to particularly enjoy it. "We're good, then?"

"We're good, then."

Slater hung up, and turned to see Grant's inquiring face. "I have Adrian and Katherine on it. If he betrays us, he's dead, and his daughter."

Grant nodded. "Good. Guess you aren't hopeless after all."

With that, the squat man left the room, leaving Slater on his own. Damien Byrne was an asset. He was highly motivated, in shape, and fanatically devoted to the cause. Completely ruthless. A man like him would be extremely valuable to them. He'd put himself in jail because he knew he wouldn't be able to control his homicidal tendencies and therefore would be of no use to them at the time. Therefore, they'd decided to concoct a plan, when Marcus judged the time to be right, they would break Damien out of jail. Technology was moving at an accelerated rate, and it was their intention to always have the most efficient, most experimental, and most dangerous pieces of it. The melting device would prove to be one of the most useful, he knew. They'd already gathered some others, true, but this one would undoubtedly be the most useful in a variety of situations. Slater checked his watch. Thirty minutes until the meeting. He got up and walked out of the room.

***

I sit in my seat, drumming my fingers on the table anxiously. Once again, I'm the first one here, and I take a sip of my coffee. It's almost time. I feel the record in my coat pocket. I wonder if anyone at the company noticed. Probably, not sure whether they'd realize I was behind it. My breathing is shallow and anxious, and I close my eyes and calm myself. I look out the window. Cloudy, dark, groggy from last night's rain. The ground is wet, and the air is thick. The cars slosh as they pass by. The door opens and a gale of cold lashes at me before it closes. Slater is here, a bit disheveled from the wind but otherwise no different. He sits down across from me, sighing in relief. The waitress walks over to us and clears her throat.

"I saw you two here two days ago. Is this like a thing you two do, like, as friends or something?"

Slater smiles at her. "Something like that. Hell, it's cold out there. I'll take some hot cocoa, please, thank you." The waitress nods and walks away. He looks at me with an amused expression. "So, Mr. Byrne. Did you get what we asked for."

"Yes," I say calmly, "and what the hell are you going to do with a device that melts things?"

He chuckles. "All in due time, Mr. Byrne. Tell me...do you have any thoughts about this?"

Yes. My brother has something to do with this, so this device could be used to break him out of jail. That's what's running through my mind but I do not say so. I shrug. "No idea. I don't suppose you're going to tell me."

He smirks at me, rocking slightly back and forth as he does so. "I think you know the answer to that. The file, please."

I take the file out of my coat pocket and slide it across the table. He takes it, and starts reading it, nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Byrne. Rest assured, as long as you do not tell anyone that this ever happened, your daughter's life will be safe." There's something in his eyes that I don't like, it seems like he's enjoying a private joke or something.

"Does that mean that I can leave?"

Slater nods, smiling. "Of course! With luck, Mr. Byrne, we will probably never see each other again." The waitress drops the hot chocolate off, and he thanks her, taking a sip of it. He sure does like his warm drinks. "So long," he says, getting up. "I will forever remember your generosity towards our cause." He strides out of the Starbucks and I drink the last of my latte. Something still feels wrong. It doesn't feel like it's over. Just like that? He's gone? I remain cautious, and then, as soon as I think he's far enough away from me, I leave, and look for him. If I can tail him, then maybe I can figure out what the hell is going on here. I can feel the heartbeat in my chest, and I see his hastily retreating self, his coat above his ears. Many people are walking to and fro, with umbrellas and such, and I keep my eyes trained on him as he walks into an alley. I follow.

I look down the alley to see no one there. I look around in confusion before I'm kicked to the ground. Above me stands a young man with shoulder-length dyed red hair. He looks fresh out of high school, and I get up and try to punch him. He catches it easily and slams me into the wall, knocking the air out of my stomach. I gasp in pain, and chop him in the neck. He gags, keeling over, and I use the time to get up.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, and he looks at me with condescending eyes.

"My name is Adrian Key. I'm an Enforcer."

"Enforcer of what? Do you know Joseph Slater?"

In response, he growls, and lunges for my throat. He's surprisingly strong for his age, and we struggle in the rain, his hands trying to grasp my throat. I splash water in his face and then punch him in the stomach. He staggers backwards, and I charge him. He sidesteps and hits me in a pressure point, and pain jolts throughout me as he kicks me to the ground. I leap to my feet, kicking him in the face, and he nearly falls over, but pulls a gun out of his pocket.

"Don't move, or I shoot," he says calmly, pointing the silenced gun at me. I freeze, and thunder rumbles in the distance. My keen eyes see his finger twitch, and I try to get out of the way as he fires the shot. Too late. I yell out as pain shoots through my stomach, and I crash to the ground. My vision blurs a bit, and my eyes see the wound. The last time I saw this much blood, felt this much pain...Sudan...it was there. The young man stands over me, holding the gun at me in a nonchalant way, neutral, and that scares me more than if he'd looked like he was enjoying it. My vision blurs in and out, and I see the barrel pointed at my forehead. So this is how it ends...with a million questions drunkenly sloshing around in my mind, and a woozy certainty of death. Slater never had any intention of keeping the deal. No honor among thieves, then.

Suddenly, another gun goes off and Key yells out in pain, the gun dropping from his grasp. A second person appears, and my vision returns long enough to allow me to see what he looks like. He's young, with black hair in a ponytail and dark clothes. "That's far enough," he says, his voice low and clipped, and Adrian growls.

"Should've known you people would try to interfere," he sneers, "you really don't know how to keep your nose out of other people's-"

He's kicked down from behind by another figure, and his face smashes into the ground with such brutality that even I in my wounded state am startled. The second figure lifts him up by the hair. "I'm sorry," the second voice says, with a Spanish accent to it, "but if your life were to be ruined, would you really not try to track the people responsible down?" My vision fades, and I can feel myself losing consciousness.

I see out of the corner of my eye several other figures approaching. "Handcuff him," a third voice says, with a clear British accent.

"Malcolm, what about him? That's a pretty bad wound. He's going to need serious medical assistance." That's the first one talking.

"I've been watching him for a while, Daren. He can come with us. Madeline, sedate him."

One of the figures injects me with a syringe and almost immediately the blurriness starts to cease, and is replaced by blackness. The last thing I see is the British man kneeling down next to me. "It's okay, Daniel. We're not going to hurt you. You're safe now."

 

[TatlTails]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP~! IT'S FINALLY GETTING SERIOUS! I'M SO EXCITEEEED~! And that Adrian guy reminded me of Dagger a bit, if only because of the red hair. ^^

 

[*M i d n a*]

Dang, that was good, the final parts of this update, I mean. I felt that it was over for that guy (Daniel), but somehow as I was nearing the final parts I really believed that he would be saved by someone, or perhaps--in his desperation for survival--he'd do something to avoid that fate. Very good, Myriad, that was great, really. I can't wait to read more on this.

 

[Sheik]

THIS IS INTENSE. SO AWESOMELY INTENSE.

Keep up the great work ^^

 

[Myriadviper42]

Well, here it is. The moment you've all been waiting for. This is the chapter that will introduce all the main characters! Also, it introduces two recurring antagonists, but that's not as important. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

The blond woman walked quickly down the hall, taking big steps to reach her destination as quickly as possible without running. She was rather tall and lean, like a cat, and her hair was cut short at her neck. Her green eyes were immensely calculating, like many in her organization. However, there was also a softness to her, a placidity, a peacefulness that made her seem different than the people she worked with. Slater walked up alongside her, matching her pace to the exact.

"Katherine. Just the woman I wanted to see. Did you get it?"

"Affirmative. Byrne's information was correct. We have the device right here. Theo's figured out how it works, we're ready for the extraction. I assume you're not going?"

"I'm going."

"What?"

"You heard me," Slater said smoothly. "I'm going."

"Slater, this isn't exactly your field-" Katherine began hastily,

"Look, Adrian got captured by the enemy. And I'd actually prefer to be doing something productive rather than sit around having Grant yell at me." He gave her a small, satisfied smirk. Katherine rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Let's get a move on. Theo's waiting for us."

The two conspirators walked down the hallway. Inside a room with a Plexiglas window, a ragged man was banging on the glass, screaming at the top of his lungs. No one could hear. A room with a surgeon's table inside, a man being dissected as if he were an animal. Katherine didn't like to admit it, but a lot of the time Control unnerved her. They were so...callous in regards of human life. Hell, she'd recently been tasked with killing a little girl if the plan went wrong. Thank God it didn't. How far could they sink and still be able to swim? Adrian, her partner, cared none for the value of human life as long as he was given his paycheck. He didn't care about the goal. Katherine would never dare to voice these thoughts out loud. The last one who tried was the one currently on the surgeon's table.

Slater opened the door and the sun shone at such an angle from the top of the building as to nearly blind them. They could see the helicopter-shaped blur on the roof, however, and, hands covering their eyes, they walked towards it and the man attending it. Theo Malik. Malik was probably the most cold and clinical one out of anyone there. He enjoyed his little experiments, a lot of them involving doing something disgusting to a human body, and often a time even crept the boss out. He was a Middle Eastern man in his late thirties, with a large, pointed nose, messy hair, and beady eyes. All in all, not exactly a pleasant character to look at, especially because his signature lab coat had a stain of an unknown substance on it, which freaked a lot of people out.

"Mr. Slater," Malik said, tinkering with the helicopter. "I wasn't aware you were coming along for this mission."

"Why? Does it matter?" Slater crossed his arms. The two men were often at odds about the right way to do things.

"You see, unlike, say, me or Katherine here, you have a public image to keep, Mr. Slater. So, if the security cameras were to, say, catch renowned Joseph Slater breaking a dangerous criminal out of jail, don't you think that would compromise future missions?"

Katherine cleared her throat. "My partner was captured by the enemy. Don't you think having a man down would compromise later missions?"

Malik stopped tinkering with the helicopter for a minute and looked up at the two with a smirk on his face. With a quick turn of his wrench, sparks shot out of the end of it, startling Slater and Katherine. Malik chuckled. "I suppose I don't have any choice in the matter. Considering my area of expertise isn't exactly combat...get on. I've installed an autopilot system. It'll take you exactly where you need to go. You'll have a two-minute time frame to drop in, use the device on the ceiling of his cell, and then get him out of there." He chuckled. "If you don't get him out of there in time...well, the helicopter will fly off without you!" He started laughing, and the two others exchanged glances. Malik didn't care about the goal either. He only cared about getting to do his little experiments. Marcus let him, as they were all beneficial to them in some way, but still, it was the man sitting before them that started the practice of dissecting rogues or anyone who spoke up against them.

"Can we turn the autopilot off?" Katherine asked.

"Negative."

"Got it. Slater, let's go."

The two stepped up into the helicopter, and Malik stood up as the helicopter blades began to spin. Malik gave them a thumbs up, his hair blowing around crazily. Katherine and Slater sat down, and the door closed as the helicopter lifted off of the building. An AlTech Industries building. AlTech itself was a cover, a front. Slater enjoyed it. He relaxed, lounging, as Katherine loaded her gun, seeming tense and uneasy. Slater noted this, and closed his eyes. His gun was already loaded. He didn't think they would be needing to use it, but one never knew. It never hurt anyone to be prepared.

"So, Katherine," he said, eyes still closed. "You worried about the mission?"

"Well...no...I'm kind of afraid of flying."

Slater laughed cruelly. "Well well well, isn't that something...hasn't stopped you before, though."

"I know how to control my fears." Katherine set her gun down.

"Duly noted, Enforcer Davidson."

She nodded. "Is anyone supervising us, do you know?"

"I am." Grant Aamor's nasally voice pierced the air. "I'm not very happy about it either Joe, but here we are. You people are going to bore me to death with your idle chitchat. Which reminds me! You should probably be talking about the mission, not about your fears or your dreams or that kind of crap. Talk about the mission, about the goals, about anything related to us, NOT about anything sentimental, thank you very-"

Slater muted him. Back at base, Grant continued to rant, completely unaware that they could no longer hear him. He continued on for about five more minutes before finally realizing no one had responded. "Um, Joe? Joe? Hey, what's that red light mean at the bottom corner?"

"They muted you, idiot."

"Oh. Oh. I knew that."

Back on the helicopter, Slater and Davidson were now chatting evenly, without any care as to whether or not Grant was listening. Katherine was in the middle of talking about almost being forced to kill Elisa Byrne, when Malik's voice with its smug tones came on.

"You are reaching your destination. Prepare yourself."

"Hang on," said Slater, "I thought you weren't overseeing this mission."

I am not. This is an automated voice messaging system that I installed into the helicopter, for use in a wide variety of situations."

"Then how the hell did you know what I just said?"

"I can respond to certain frequently asked questions on missions. Who's the genius here?"

Katherine groaned. "Oh, shut up and go back to playing with your dead bodies."

"You know necrophilia isn't my thing."

Katherine wondered whether or not Malik was having a joke at their expense and actually was listening in. She didn't have time to ponder the thought, though, as she felt the helicopter going down. "You have arrived at your destination. You now have a time frame of [beep] two minutes [beep] to complete the objective. Good luck." She rolled her eyes as the helicopter set down.

"Grab the device. We don't have much time, I'm pretty sure they already spotted us." They quickly started setting up what looked to be circular charges. Slater set it down and then turned the settings up to high. Katherine did the same.

"Come on, come on..." Slater said. "Katherine, if this fails and I'm seen here...well, at least I'll be able to have a break from business work I guess."

"No need," Katherine said, smiling. The metal ceiling was turning red and folding inwards. With a kick of her shoe, the ceiling crashed down.

"Idiot," Slater seethed, "that could have hit Damien! That metal is almost liquid, so-"

"He's fine, look." Damien Byrne sat in the cell, an amused expression on his face.

"I knew you guys would come through," he said confidently, and looked around. "Now get me up there now."

They could hear a guard calling. Slater threw down a rope ladder, and Damien climbed up. As Slater and Damien made eye contact, Slater could only think of his twin brother Daniel. Damien was mangy and unkempt, but the resemblance was definitely still there. They nodded at each other, and the guard burst into the room, looking up at the melted ceiling. "What the hell?" Katherine pulled out her gun and shot. Blood stained the floor and the guard crumpled, and soon all three were in the helicopter. They sighed in relief. It could have gone much, much worse, but now they had Damien Byrne.

"Mission accomplished?" Theo's voice asked cautiously.

Slater nodded, and then realized that that wouldn't do anything.

"Mission accomplished."

***

I open my eyes. I'm in a hospital bed, with a bandage over my stomach. I try to remember what happened, and then I do, yes. Adrian Key. Working with Slater. He tried to kill me, but some people stopped him from doing so. I remember the British man telling me I would be safe. Is that true? Am I truly safe? I get up, and pain shoots through me. I look at my prosthetic leg. It's new. My old one wasn't faring very well. These people got me a new prosthetic leg. Why would they do that? Being in the business world for so long, I'm used to quid pro quo, a favor for a favor. Acts of genuine kindness are kind of...new to me, I suppose. I hope that will change. But where is everyone?

The door opens, and a man walks in. He has long, slicked back dark brown hair, almost such that it appears to be black. He has a mustache, and he also has a distinctly British air to him. "Ah, Mr. Byrne. Welcome, welcome." He takes a seat, and stretches. "I'm sorry about having to sedate you. You would have struggled if we tried to take you while you were conscious."

I raise an eyebrow. "I was about to lose consciousness anyway. It's been a long time since I was even slightly wounded. Now, could you please answer a few questions for me?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Could you explain to me what the hell is going on?"

He sighs. "It's quite the tale. You see, you are not the first man Joseph Slater has blackmailed into doing his bidding. You are, however, one of the few who have survived. Slater is part of a criminal slash terrorism organization that calls itself Prophet. Self-righteous, melodramatic, and misleading name in my opinion. Their goals are unknown, as we have never managed to capture one of them before today. Every single time we tried, we would corner them and then they would shoot themselves in the head before coming with us. They're...very dedicated."

"And you know nothing of what their goals are?"

"No. They seem to believe, however, that they are...doing the right thing. Could have fooled me," the man says, rolling his eyes. "Oh, sorry, my name is Malcolm. Malcolm Reginald Waters. Pleasure to meet you."

I nod. "Likewise. Now who are you people?"

He sighs. "You see...a long time ago, I lost someone...very precious to me. And I became determined to find the man responsible. Not Slater, in case you were wondering. I found out about Prophet, about their complete lack of empathy towards humanity, and I decided to seek out people like me, people who've been hurt by them. Everyone in this building has lost something because of Prophet, and we are all hungry for revenge." He grins.

I hold my hands up. "Wait, wait, wait. You guys fight Prophet? How do you do that? They're kind of...off the grid, as far as terrorist groups go. How do you find them?"

Malcolm smiles. "Good question. I have a friend in the government. He supplies us with all the info he can, and has forged FBI cards for us, plus aliases!"

I clear my throat. "All right. So...you lead a group of people-is there a name, by the way?"

"Hmn. We're currently having a contest for that, currently sorting through the entries. I think the 'Avengers' is already taken."

I nod. "I'm in. But what about my life? What about my daughter?"

"For all anyone knows, you went missing. Your daughter is now living with your father. I will send an agent to let them know you're okay but that you won't be able to go back home for a while. Sound good?" He sounds a bit smug, like he enjoys showing how much influence he has. I think I like him. He knows how to get things done, and is as eager for revenge as I am.

I sigh audibly. "Sounds good."

He claps his hands. "Good! You should probably be meeting the people you're going to work with. Tell me, have you ever fired a gun?"

"Yes," I say simply. I don't elaborate.

He shrugs, making a huh sound. "Who knew? Anyway, Madeline, Daren, and Adamaris are going to give you the tour. They're going to be working with you for the most part. I like to keep things consistent."

I nod. "Well, what are we waiting for?" I stand up, my wound still paining me, but I can walk now. I walk slowly to the door and open it. My eyes widen. We're on a metal balcony overlooking about five floors of open space, with different levels, training exercises, the like. It's a little messy, a little rusty, but it looks effective and intimidating. Malcolm laughs, clapping me on the back.

"This is Headquarters. The entire place is underground. Was actually owned by Prophet at one point, we managed to take it from them. You'll learn here, laugh here, cry here, die here, whichever. Head down the elevator to your right to floor 2. Take a left and then go through the third door on the right. They'll be waiting for you, understood?"

I nod, still trying to take it all in, mouth slightly agape. This is...a lot. He smiles understandingly. "Don't worry. You'll be fine, Daniel. I promise. Come now, they're waiting for you, off with you, cheerio. So long. I expect we'll be seeing each other again soon." He walks off, and I turn towards the elevator and press the down button. Ding. The elevator opens and I press the two button. I lean back against the wall. Twenty-four hours ago I was worried about Slater's blackmail and how that would turn out. I check my watch. 9:02 P.M. It feels much, much later than that. I sigh. The door opens, and I walk out to meet my new colleagues.

There are three of them. There's one I recognize from earlier, the one with dark hair tied into a ponytail and green eyes. His expression is cold and calculating, as if sizing me up. The second one is a young Spanish man with gray eyes and short brown hair. He looks at me mildly, his lip curling upwards slightly. The third and final person in the room is a girl. She looks a bit younger than the rest, although it's a bit hard to tell. She has long dark hair that reaches her waist and hangs in her face. For some reason she seems to be wearing a men's blazer over her regular clothes. I look between the three, and its easy to tell that they've fought before. They're worn. The silence between us is deafening until finally the Spanish man breaks the silence.

"Good day, Daniel," he says calmly, and I recognize his voice from the fight with Key. He raises his hand in acknowledgement, and I look around awkwardly. What is with these people?

"Um, hi," I say awkwardly. "I would introduce myself if I knew you guys didn't already know my name...so...could you guys like introduce yourselves or something?"

He nods. "I'm Adamaris Zuñiga. Pleasure. We kind of just lost someone close to us, so...if we're a little quiet, that's why. Then again, the three of us aren't exactly the most talkative of people."

The man with the ponytail speaks up. "I'm Daren Gallows." He pauses, and looks at me directly in the eyes. "Nice of you to drop by." Just a guess, but I don't think he thinks it's nice of me to drop by at all.

"Madeline," Adamaris says with a smile on his face, kicking back his legs, "greet our guest."

Madeline shifts around uncomfortably before speaking. "I-I'm Madeline. N-nice to meet you." Her head is down when she says this. I can't see her eyes, but I think they're most likely trained on the floor.

"She shy or something?"

Daren raises his eyebrows. "Or something? Way to be sensitive, Byrne. Exactly what are you here for?"

He stands up and moves over to me, his eyes locked on mine. "What do you mean, what am I here for? I've been hurt, same as you, and I want revenge."

"No, why did Malcolm accept you? Do you even know how to fire a gun, Mr. Tuxedo?"

"Hey now," Adamaris says, who I note is wearing a tuxedo himself.

"Yes," I say defiantly.

"Tactical ops? Strategy? Do you know anything about the tech Prophet uses?"

The guy's kind of scaring me. He seems almost hostile against me, and I start talking faster. "Well, they're big, scary, and can do things I've never even seen before, and-"

"The man's useless," Daren says, sitting back down.

"Daren," Adamanis says, a note of caution in his voice. "Stop. He's here. No reason to get mad at him just because Tony died."

"What happened?" I ask cautiously, not sure whether or not it's the best idea. Daren looks ready to tear my face off and Adamanis tries to hold him back. To my surprise it's Madeline who breaks the silence, who before this has just been quietly watching.

"H-he went a-after one of their e-enforcers. H-he was s-shot. We n-never recovered t-the body." She looks close to being on the verge to tears, and Adamanis and Daren stop, and both try to calm her down. I sit down. What a great start. What a team. Me, a guy who hates my guts for no apparent reason, a relatively normal guy, and a girl who looks ready to burst into tears at any moment.

"You know what?" Adamanis asks, to all of us. "Let's just go to bed. We'll discuss things in the morning. Daren, calm down please. Madeline, just sleep, you'll feel better after you do. And Daniel..." he turns to me. "I know we don't seem like much, but I promise you we are some of the most capable fighters you will ever meet." I raise an incredulous eyebrow and look at the other two. Adamanis nods. "Believe me."

"I'll believe it when I see it, and I'm sorry if that sounded mean. It's just..."

He chuckles. "I know. Madeline, I'm serious, go to bed. You need to sleep."

"I-if you say so. I-I'll see y-you guys in t-the morning." She walks off, and Daren follows, leaving me and Adamanis.

"You're going to do fine, Daniel. Your bedroom's the second on the right. Tomorrow we'll give you the tour. Night."

"Night," I say, smiling. "I'll be looking forward to getting back at them."

He sighs. "Don't we all?" He walks off to his room. I walk down to my room and open the door. A nice bed, the interior design is comfortable feeling. It feels relaxing. Here I am. Far away from my life, my daughter, my business. As far as my colleagues know I could be dead, yet here I am, in a comfy bed and a group of people with the same goal as me. It's been a long time since I've fired a gun. I've never killed anyone before, especially not with a gun. Here, I might be able to find out what the hell is going on with Slater, Prophet. All my life I've wanted to know answers. Curiosity didn't kill the cat then, and I sure hope it doesn't now. There's a knock on my door, and I open it. It's Adamanis again.

"Thought you were going to bed."

He sighs. "I was. Just thought I'd like to let you know of a little...development."

"Yes?"

"It's your brother. He's escaped."

 

[TatlTails]

YAY~! OMG that was awesome! Madi was quite in-character, and you pretty much kinda just about got the stutter right. There were a few places I'd add a stutter or take one off, but you were pretty darn close for a beginner. But everyone else was awesome too and THIS STORY'S FINALLY ON THE ROOOOAD!