General Art Greater Good, Greater Game
- Thread starter Myriadviper42
- Start date
*M i d n a*
Æsir Scribe
Operation moron, lol. Good update, Myriad; I really enjoyed it, and I am wondering what Prophet is up to now. Keep 'em coming. :yes:
Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
With that last chapter, we are halfway through the story. I've crunched the numbers, the official chapter count is 32.
Chapter 17
Damien Byrne looked completely different, in an uncanny sort of way. His hair was neatly trimmed, his beard shaved, and he wore a nice suit. He looked exactly like his brother, with the only exception being the harsh light in his eyes, and the slightly fractured impression he gave when people talked to him. He was indeed a fractured man, always having tried to be the better sibling, and always viewing their lack of attention as an intentional attack on him. He wasn't stable, no, not at all, but he wasn't completely crazy. He could be normal when he felt like it. That would have to be key in the final phases of the plan. Malcolm's group was a waste of time, a distraction from the goal that Prophet was trying to reach.
He calmly slipped into the bank, his posture and expression calm and controlled. His heart beat faster and faster, and it was all he could do to not smile. The bank itself was ornate and made of marble, with plenty of people moving around, plenty of chatter, yes. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. He exhaled, and his cocky smile manifested on his face, if only for a moment. He walked up to the clerk, and spoke in a casual manner, as if he were an ordinary man, visiting an ordinary bank. He of course was not ordinary in the slightest, and he gripped the gun in his back pocket. "Hi," he said politely, and the clerk looked up at him.
"Hi, how can I help you?" the clerk asked.
"Ah, my name is FBI agent Samuel Evans," Damien replied, pulling out Daniel's fake ID which had been taken from him while he was a prisoner. "I'm here to investigate one of these vaults...or something."
"Or something?" the clerk responded, an unsure expression on his face. "You don't know?"
Damien shrugged. "I don't know what I'm looking for. If you could direct me to Vault 321?"
The clerk nodded. "Of course." He got up from his desk and led Damien through the area, explaining to a couple of the other employees felt they recognized Damien from somewhere, but eventually thought nothing of it. "Here we are," the clerk said cheerfully, and opened the vault. "What exactly are you looking for?"
Damien stepped inside, and grabbed the slip of paper inside. A Prophet agent had managed to find out the location of Malcolm's Headquarters, but had been killed before he could relay the information. He'd fortunately stored the information, and now they'd found out where it was. Plus, it would be a nice little...demonstration for his brother and Malcolm. He glanced up at the security cameras, and smiled to himself. Oh, how he'd missed this.
"A slip of paper?" the clerk asked incredulously.
"A very important slip of paper," Damien replied evenly. "Classified. That's all, go about the rest of your life, thank you."
The clerk understandably just looked more confused. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about the man who claimed to be FBI. He felt like he recognized him from somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. He shrugged it off, and the two men walked back into the lobby, Damien behind the clerk. Moving quickly, he pulled out his silenced pistol and shot the clerk in the back of the head. He smiled with amusement that his last words had been 'a slip of paper?'
The people nearest to him noticed, one of them dropping the papers in her hands and backing away in fear, screaming. Some of them connected the dots, that this was the Damien Byrne who had terrorized their television screens ten years ago, the Damien Byrne who had recently escaped from prison and hadn't been seen since. Two more shots, two more people dead, and people started looking around at what was going on, trying to escape, but just as he had done ten years before, he moved quickly and shot quickly, people crumpling to the ground before they even knew what hit them.
People started running away, slamming into each other in a blind panic to get as far away from the shooter as possible, and in the chaos Damien slipped away. Wiping his hands off and reloading his clip, he chuckled quietly to himself. He looked up and saw a security camera, and he waved to it before raising his gun and firing one last time.
***
I lie in bed, queasy and pale. It's been three days since I woke up, three days since the pain and torture ended. And I still feel it, in the weakness of my bones, in the way that my body feels like it's about to fall over at any moment. It isn't fun, not at all. The queasiness has nothing to do with stomach problems. I feel sick. But I am not sick. I don't remember much about my time under, but I remember the pain. Lots and lots of pain, and a sense of desolate isolation. I close my eyes but I cannot sleep. I try to relax but my insides are tied in knots. The door opens and Adamaris walks in, holding a tray of food.
"Hey, Daniel," he says, and sits down next to me. "I've brought you lunch. To update you on what's been going on, Daren still doesn't want to talk to you, Madeline is out doing something, I think it's personal. Elijah woke up today and we learned what happened with him. He got clubbed in the back of the head, that was the last thing he could remember before waking up in an alleyway."
"Thanks, Adamaris," I respond gratefully, my voice still weak. "Why won't Daren talk to me?"
"He just recently got over our comrade's death, and had accepted you as a replacement. Finding out Tony had been alive, and tortured into becoming a shell..." He sighed. "It reopened the wound."
I nod. "Hey, Adamaris..."
"Yes?" he inquires cautiously.
"I don't want to sound like I'm intruding...but I've heard your story, and Madeline's. What is Daren's deal?"
"Well, I don't think he'd be okay with me telling you," Adamaris murmurs quietly, "but I will anyway." He clears his throat. "Daren was abused by his parents when he was a child. Ten years of it, then he finally had the common sense to run away from it. The parents didn't have anything to do with Prophet. He vowed to help people out so they would not suffer as he did. He...fell in love with a girl, as well, and planned to get married. Daren found out about Prophet and attempted to investigate it. They...released a virus that killed his lover, and everyone in his town, except for Daren. He was...broken. Devastated. I personally think he hides behind his jerkass behavior because he's afraid that if he actually likes his teammates, they'll be taken away from him too."
It's silence for a while, and then I finally reply. "That's...terrible."
"We all have sob stories," he says, putting a smile on his face. "That's why we're here. To give it a happy ending."
I ponder everything, and don't talk for a while. I was blackmailed and threatened into finding information out for Prophet, something they should have been able to do without my help. Hell, if they hadn't sent Adrian Key to kill me, I would've just gone on living my life and just hoped I would never hear the names Joseph Slater or Damien Byrne again. But because they tried to kill me, they just gave Malcolm a more powerful ally. A deep feeling of loneliness and nostalgia surrounds me, back to when I didn't have near-death experiences on a regular basis. Something clicks, and I turn to Adamaris, who is looking at his phone. "I need to see my daughter."
He looks up at me, a little surprised to hear my voice, considering I'd been pretty much quiet for the last five minutes or so. "I'm sorry, Daniel, what?"
"I need to see my daughter," I repeat, more forcefully this time.
"Sorry, Daniel," he replies, sounding genuinely sorry, "you're in no condition to be going anywhere, and even if you were, you'd be putting your daughter and your father in danger."
"I need to see them, Adamaris," I reply, anger entering my tone. "I haven't seen either of them for months, and I nearly died last week. Did you get tortured by Theo Malik? If I'd died that day I never would've gotten to have one final goodbye to my family. I don't want that, you need to understand."
He doesn't speak for a couple of seconds, apparently thinking deeply about it. "I'll take you," he finally says. "Let's go." I slowly get up, and test my ability to walk. It seems to be okay, I was able to get down to Trueman the other day. He leads me into the elevator, and I stand calmly, feeling much more stable. Adam Goodwin enters the elevator and his eyes widen in slight surprise when he sees me. "Are you sure you should be out and about right now?" he asks me, looking concerned.
"He's fine, thanks Adam," Adamaris responds with a smile, and Adam gets out on a different floor. Adamaris presses the fire alarm button, and we head up to the office building. The door opens and I walk out of the lobby, Adamaris close behind me. I climb into the passenger's seat and Adamaris drives. He seems to know where he's going, so I don't say anything and we drive to my father's house. The car stops, and I get out. Birds chirp and the sun beats down upon my face. It's cool and clear, and nice. Adamaris gets out as well, gun in hand. We walk up to the house and Adamaris sits down on the porch, apparently casual, but in reality his eyes are scanning everything furiously. He holds his gun in his hand. "I'll keep watch," he murmurs to me. "You just visit your family." I nod in thanks and knock on the door.
It opens, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm looking into the eyes of my father, christened William Byrne. He looks somehow much older than when I last saw him, with stubble on his face and a melancholy look in his eye. But when he sees me, he breaks out into a grin. "Daniel," he says in slight disbelief and pulls me into a tight hug.
"Hi, Dad," I say, unsure of myself. "I...decided I wanted to see you."
He breaks away from me, looking infinitely happier than the man who had opened the door to me had been. "Come inside, Daniel! Elisa! Your father's here!"
We head inside, and I'm greeted by my daughter. "Dad!" she exclaims happily, and embraces me, and I laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. We chat, and my depressed mood is lightened considerably, and finally, after about an hour of catching up on missed time as a father, I sit down across from my own father.
"So," he begins, looking curious.
"So?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"I was visited after your disappearance and Damien's escape from jail. I was drenched in guilt, I thought I'd just been a terrible parent again, let something happen to my other son..." A saddened look passes over his face, and I smile comfortingly.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I say, smiling. "It wasn't your fault."
"Then, this guy turns up at my house and tells me what's really going on, that you're off...fighting a group of people who had wronged you. He said that if I was told any more then I would be in danger."
I shrug. "Probably true."
He looks curiously at me. "What exactly are you doing? Why did you leave?"
I sigh. "I don't know how much of this I'm supposed to tell you, but honestly, I don't really care. I'm out fighting a group named Prophet. Corrupt, greedy, no morals. I'd been blackmailed to do something for them on pain of Elisa's life...then I was found by a group of people who'd been wronged by them, same as I had. I had to leave, to make sure that they couldn't find you, or hurt you, or Elisa."
Throughout this, my father nods understandingly. "I get it. I knew you wouldn't have left Elisa if it hadn't been important. Why...did you choose to come home now?"
I cast my eyes downwards, that sinking feeling of reality entering my stomach once again. "I nearly died without seeing you again."
He looks at me in sympathy, and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I see...I've never had any near-death experiences. I've never had the chance to be a hero. Looking back, I wish I could have done things differently. Paid more attention to Damien, complimented him some times. I failed to see what he was becoming...I failed to see that my careless neglect would have that effect on him. I didn't realize..." He chokes up, and it's my turn to console him.
"Damien was bitter," I say soothingly. "He saw things, thought things that weren't true. He thought you didn't love him, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Damien...is with Prophet, and we have fought, and he has tried to kill me. He is...incapable of listening to reason. But I'm trying. I'm trying, Father."
He hugs me again. I smile, and clap him on the back. "Thank you, son," he croaks, tears flowing down his cheeks. "It was incredible seeing you again."
"I know," I reply calmly. "I know. I...need to go now."
"Goodbye, Daniel," he chokes out, with a bittersweet smile on his face.
"See you soon, father," I reply, getting up.
"You're leaving?" Elisa calls from the other room.
I walk over to her and hug her too. "Bye, Elisa. I'll see you soon, okay?"
She nods and smiles. "Got it." I pick her up and set her down one last time before opening the door and waving goodbye to the both of them. Adamaris waits on the porch, arms folded and looking casual. "No problems?" I ask, as we both get up and walk towards the car.
"No problems," he responds as he gets into the driver's seat, and we drive away. The next few days are a blur, Trueman's deadline for the Prophet meeting gets closer. Daren avoids me if he can, and Madeline, Adam, and the odd Randall Quinn make the occasional visit. The day of the mission, and I'm ready for field duty. I get out of my bed, and look at myself in the mirror. The color has returned to my face, and I'm looking more healthy than I was before. I ready my gun, and put on a tuxedo. I walk to the briefing room, and enter. Daren sits on the couch, lounging calmly, while Adamaris looks a bit agitated. Madeline stands at attention, and Astrid Lark stands at the front of the room.
"Nice of you to join us, Daniel," she comments, without any trace of sarcasm. "Now that we're all here, here is the plan. You will go in disguised as partygoers, and will attempt to identify the Prophet agents without them identifying you. After which, you will attempt to eliminate them, regardless of whether or not the other guests are still there or not."
"I-Isn't that a-a little h-h-harsh? W-We could a-accidentally k-kill them," Madeline inquires incredulously.
"It's not your place to question that," Astrid snaps scathingly.
"That was a little uncalled for," Adamaris responds.
"Don't you realize we're on a time table?" Astrid barks back at him. "Know your place!"
"Something's different here," I comment, that feeling of despair resting in my stomach once again. "Something is going to happen."
There's a silence after this, and Astrid sighs. "Get it done," she says through gritted teeth, and then exits the room. We look at one another, confusion and anticipation evident on all our faces. We get out of the facility and into the car. It's quiet again, an unwelcome return to the days in which I was still inexperienced and relatively better-off. I sigh audibly, sitting next to Madeline. Finally, we arrive at the location, and I turn to see a team of snipers watching everything. Good to know we're not going in alone. We identify ourselves at the registration using fake aliases supplied by Quinn, and enter the party.
Something is wrong. It is not loud, yet at least. It's just begun, so most likely people will be arriving soon, it just feels strange. It might just be me over-thinking things, it might not. Regardless, I keep my grip on my gun at all times, and I examine the surroundings closely. Marble, well-furnished, classy. It seems okay, but we all look around cautiously.
"We need to split up," Adamaris says as we pass under a balcony with curved stairs leading up towards it. "See if we can find-"
There's the unmistakable sound of clicking guns. People from the shadows, who we failed to notice have emerged from them, pointing guns at us. On the stairs to the balcony, I recognize Natalie Hunt and Adrian Key. My brother stands to our right with Katherine Davidson, a grin on his face and a fiery light in his eyes. Slater and the greasy man from the warehouse, Steven Gardner, I think his name was, stand to our left. Slater winks at me, a smirk on his face. My face drops as I realize how much trouble we're in. From the balcony, I hear the sound of footsteps, and a short, squat man I recognize from the files as Grant Aamor puts his hands on the railing and looks down at us.
"Nice of you to join the party," he shouts gleefully. "You can put your weapons down. You won't be needing them."
"Son of a b****," Daren murmurs to himself while placing his gun on the ground. The rest of us do the same.
"Welcome to the party!" Aamor declares, looking positively delighted with himself. "Actually, there was no party in the first place." He laughs cruelly. "Oh, did Trueman tell you otherwise? Well..." He starts giggling, and the Prophet agents close in on us, guns raised.
"He lied."
Chapter 17
Damien Byrne looked completely different, in an uncanny sort of way. His hair was neatly trimmed, his beard shaved, and he wore a nice suit. He looked exactly like his brother, with the only exception being the harsh light in his eyes, and the slightly fractured impression he gave when people talked to him. He was indeed a fractured man, always having tried to be the better sibling, and always viewing their lack of attention as an intentional attack on him. He wasn't stable, no, not at all, but he wasn't completely crazy. He could be normal when he felt like it. That would have to be key in the final phases of the plan. Malcolm's group was a waste of time, a distraction from the goal that Prophet was trying to reach.
He calmly slipped into the bank, his posture and expression calm and controlled. His heart beat faster and faster, and it was all he could do to not smile. The bank itself was ornate and made of marble, with plenty of people moving around, plenty of chatter, yes. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. He exhaled, and his cocky smile manifested on his face, if only for a moment. He walked up to the clerk, and spoke in a casual manner, as if he were an ordinary man, visiting an ordinary bank. He of course was not ordinary in the slightest, and he gripped the gun in his back pocket. "Hi," he said politely, and the clerk looked up at him.
"Hi, how can I help you?" the clerk asked.
"Ah, my name is FBI agent Samuel Evans," Damien replied, pulling out Daniel's fake ID which had been taken from him while he was a prisoner. "I'm here to investigate one of these vaults...or something."
"Or something?" the clerk responded, an unsure expression on his face. "You don't know?"
Damien shrugged. "I don't know what I'm looking for. If you could direct me to Vault 321?"
The clerk nodded. "Of course." He got up from his desk and led Damien through the area, explaining to a couple of the other employees felt they recognized Damien from somewhere, but eventually thought nothing of it. "Here we are," the clerk said cheerfully, and opened the vault. "What exactly are you looking for?"
Damien stepped inside, and grabbed the slip of paper inside. A Prophet agent had managed to find out the location of Malcolm's Headquarters, but had been killed before he could relay the information. He'd fortunately stored the information, and now they'd found out where it was. Plus, it would be a nice little...demonstration for his brother and Malcolm. He glanced up at the security cameras, and smiled to himself. Oh, how he'd missed this.
"A slip of paper?" the clerk asked incredulously.
"A very important slip of paper," Damien replied evenly. "Classified. That's all, go about the rest of your life, thank you."
The clerk understandably just looked more confused. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about the man who claimed to be FBI. He felt like he recognized him from somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. He shrugged it off, and the two men walked back into the lobby, Damien behind the clerk. Moving quickly, he pulled out his silenced pistol and shot the clerk in the back of the head. He smiled with amusement that his last words had been 'a slip of paper?'
The people nearest to him noticed, one of them dropping the papers in her hands and backing away in fear, screaming. Some of them connected the dots, that this was the Damien Byrne who had terrorized their television screens ten years ago, the Damien Byrne who had recently escaped from prison and hadn't been seen since. Two more shots, two more people dead, and people started looking around at what was going on, trying to escape, but just as he had done ten years before, he moved quickly and shot quickly, people crumpling to the ground before they even knew what hit them.
People started running away, slamming into each other in a blind panic to get as far away from the shooter as possible, and in the chaos Damien slipped away. Wiping his hands off and reloading his clip, he chuckled quietly to himself. He looked up and saw a security camera, and he waved to it before raising his gun and firing one last time.
***
I lie in bed, queasy and pale. It's been three days since I woke up, three days since the pain and torture ended. And I still feel it, in the weakness of my bones, in the way that my body feels like it's about to fall over at any moment. It isn't fun, not at all. The queasiness has nothing to do with stomach problems. I feel sick. But I am not sick. I don't remember much about my time under, but I remember the pain. Lots and lots of pain, and a sense of desolate isolation. I close my eyes but I cannot sleep. I try to relax but my insides are tied in knots. The door opens and Adamaris walks in, holding a tray of food.
"Hey, Daniel," he says, and sits down next to me. "I've brought you lunch. To update you on what's been going on, Daren still doesn't want to talk to you, Madeline is out doing something, I think it's personal. Elijah woke up today and we learned what happened with him. He got clubbed in the back of the head, that was the last thing he could remember before waking up in an alleyway."
"Thanks, Adamaris," I respond gratefully, my voice still weak. "Why won't Daren talk to me?"
"He just recently got over our comrade's death, and had accepted you as a replacement. Finding out Tony had been alive, and tortured into becoming a shell..." He sighed. "It reopened the wound."
I nod. "Hey, Adamaris..."
"Yes?" he inquires cautiously.
"I don't want to sound like I'm intruding...but I've heard your story, and Madeline's. What is Daren's deal?"
"Well, I don't think he'd be okay with me telling you," Adamaris murmurs quietly, "but I will anyway." He clears his throat. "Daren was abused by his parents when he was a child. Ten years of it, then he finally had the common sense to run away from it. The parents didn't have anything to do with Prophet. He vowed to help people out so they would not suffer as he did. He...fell in love with a girl, as well, and planned to get married. Daren found out about Prophet and attempted to investigate it. They...released a virus that killed his lover, and everyone in his town, except for Daren. He was...broken. Devastated. I personally think he hides behind his jerkass behavior because he's afraid that if he actually likes his teammates, they'll be taken away from him too."
It's silence for a while, and then I finally reply. "That's...terrible."
"We all have sob stories," he says, putting a smile on his face. "That's why we're here. To give it a happy ending."
I ponder everything, and don't talk for a while. I was blackmailed and threatened into finding information out for Prophet, something they should have been able to do without my help. Hell, if they hadn't sent Adrian Key to kill me, I would've just gone on living my life and just hoped I would never hear the names Joseph Slater or Damien Byrne again. But because they tried to kill me, they just gave Malcolm a more powerful ally. A deep feeling of loneliness and nostalgia surrounds me, back to when I didn't have near-death experiences on a regular basis. Something clicks, and I turn to Adamaris, who is looking at his phone. "I need to see my daughter."
He looks up at me, a little surprised to hear my voice, considering I'd been pretty much quiet for the last five minutes or so. "I'm sorry, Daniel, what?"
"I need to see my daughter," I repeat, more forcefully this time.
"Sorry, Daniel," he replies, sounding genuinely sorry, "you're in no condition to be going anywhere, and even if you were, you'd be putting your daughter and your father in danger."
"I need to see them, Adamaris," I reply, anger entering my tone. "I haven't seen either of them for months, and I nearly died last week. Did you get tortured by Theo Malik? If I'd died that day I never would've gotten to have one final goodbye to my family. I don't want that, you need to understand."
He doesn't speak for a couple of seconds, apparently thinking deeply about it. "I'll take you," he finally says. "Let's go." I slowly get up, and test my ability to walk. It seems to be okay, I was able to get down to Trueman the other day. He leads me into the elevator, and I stand calmly, feeling much more stable. Adam Goodwin enters the elevator and his eyes widen in slight surprise when he sees me. "Are you sure you should be out and about right now?" he asks me, looking concerned.
"He's fine, thanks Adam," Adamaris responds with a smile, and Adam gets out on a different floor. Adamaris presses the fire alarm button, and we head up to the office building. The door opens and I walk out of the lobby, Adamaris close behind me. I climb into the passenger's seat and Adamaris drives. He seems to know where he's going, so I don't say anything and we drive to my father's house. The car stops, and I get out. Birds chirp and the sun beats down upon my face. It's cool and clear, and nice. Adamaris gets out as well, gun in hand. We walk up to the house and Adamaris sits down on the porch, apparently casual, but in reality his eyes are scanning everything furiously. He holds his gun in his hand. "I'll keep watch," he murmurs to me. "You just visit your family." I nod in thanks and knock on the door.
It opens, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm looking into the eyes of my father, christened William Byrne. He looks somehow much older than when I last saw him, with stubble on his face and a melancholy look in his eye. But when he sees me, he breaks out into a grin. "Daniel," he says in slight disbelief and pulls me into a tight hug.
"Hi, Dad," I say, unsure of myself. "I...decided I wanted to see you."
He breaks away from me, looking infinitely happier than the man who had opened the door to me had been. "Come inside, Daniel! Elisa! Your father's here!"
We head inside, and I'm greeted by my daughter. "Dad!" she exclaims happily, and embraces me, and I laugh for the first time in what feels like forever. We chat, and my depressed mood is lightened considerably, and finally, after about an hour of catching up on missed time as a father, I sit down across from my own father.
"So," he begins, looking curious.
"So?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"I was visited after your disappearance and Damien's escape from jail. I was drenched in guilt, I thought I'd just been a terrible parent again, let something happen to my other son..." A saddened look passes over his face, and I smile comfortingly.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I say, smiling. "It wasn't your fault."
"Then, this guy turns up at my house and tells me what's really going on, that you're off...fighting a group of people who had wronged you. He said that if I was told any more then I would be in danger."
I shrug. "Probably true."
He looks curiously at me. "What exactly are you doing? Why did you leave?"
I sigh. "I don't know how much of this I'm supposed to tell you, but honestly, I don't really care. I'm out fighting a group named Prophet. Corrupt, greedy, no morals. I'd been blackmailed to do something for them on pain of Elisa's life...then I was found by a group of people who'd been wronged by them, same as I had. I had to leave, to make sure that they couldn't find you, or hurt you, or Elisa."
Throughout this, my father nods understandingly. "I get it. I knew you wouldn't have left Elisa if it hadn't been important. Why...did you choose to come home now?"
I cast my eyes downwards, that sinking feeling of reality entering my stomach once again. "I nearly died without seeing you again."
He looks at me in sympathy, and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I see...I've never had any near-death experiences. I've never had the chance to be a hero. Looking back, I wish I could have done things differently. Paid more attention to Damien, complimented him some times. I failed to see what he was becoming...I failed to see that my careless neglect would have that effect on him. I didn't realize..." He chokes up, and it's my turn to console him.
"Damien was bitter," I say soothingly. "He saw things, thought things that weren't true. He thought you didn't love him, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Damien...is with Prophet, and we have fought, and he has tried to kill me. He is...incapable of listening to reason. But I'm trying. I'm trying, Father."
He hugs me again. I smile, and clap him on the back. "Thank you, son," he croaks, tears flowing down his cheeks. "It was incredible seeing you again."
"I know," I reply calmly. "I know. I...need to go now."
"Goodbye, Daniel," he chokes out, with a bittersweet smile on his face.
"See you soon, father," I reply, getting up.
"You're leaving?" Elisa calls from the other room.
I walk over to her and hug her too. "Bye, Elisa. I'll see you soon, okay?"
She nods and smiles. "Got it." I pick her up and set her down one last time before opening the door and waving goodbye to the both of them. Adamaris waits on the porch, arms folded and looking casual. "No problems?" I ask, as we both get up and walk towards the car.
"No problems," he responds as he gets into the driver's seat, and we drive away. The next few days are a blur, Trueman's deadline for the Prophet meeting gets closer. Daren avoids me if he can, and Madeline, Adam, and the odd Randall Quinn make the occasional visit. The day of the mission, and I'm ready for field duty. I get out of my bed, and look at myself in the mirror. The color has returned to my face, and I'm looking more healthy than I was before. I ready my gun, and put on a tuxedo. I walk to the briefing room, and enter. Daren sits on the couch, lounging calmly, while Adamaris looks a bit agitated. Madeline stands at attention, and Astrid Lark stands at the front of the room.
"Nice of you to join us, Daniel," she comments, without any trace of sarcasm. "Now that we're all here, here is the plan. You will go in disguised as partygoers, and will attempt to identify the Prophet agents without them identifying you. After which, you will attempt to eliminate them, regardless of whether or not the other guests are still there or not."
"I-Isn't that a-a little h-h-harsh? W-We could a-accidentally k-kill them," Madeline inquires incredulously.
"It's not your place to question that," Astrid snaps scathingly.
"That was a little uncalled for," Adamaris responds.
"Don't you realize we're on a time table?" Astrid barks back at him. "Know your place!"
"Something's different here," I comment, that feeling of despair resting in my stomach once again. "Something is going to happen."
There's a silence after this, and Astrid sighs. "Get it done," she says through gritted teeth, and then exits the room. We look at one another, confusion and anticipation evident on all our faces. We get out of the facility and into the car. It's quiet again, an unwelcome return to the days in which I was still inexperienced and relatively better-off. I sigh audibly, sitting next to Madeline. Finally, we arrive at the location, and I turn to see a team of snipers watching everything. Good to know we're not going in alone. We identify ourselves at the registration using fake aliases supplied by Quinn, and enter the party.
Something is wrong. It is not loud, yet at least. It's just begun, so most likely people will be arriving soon, it just feels strange. It might just be me over-thinking things, it might not. Regardless, I keep my grip on my gun at all times, and I examine the surroundings closely. Marble, well-furnished, classy. It seems okay, but we all look around cautiously.
"We need to split up," Adamaris says as we pass under a balcony with curved stairs leading up towards it. "See if we can find-"
There's the unmistakable sound of clicking guns. People from the shadows, who we failed to notice have emerged from them, pointing guns at us. On the stairs to the balcony, I recognize Natalie Hunt and Adrian Key. My brother stands to our right with Katherine Davidson, a grin on his face and a fiery light in his eyes. Slater and the greasy man from the warehouse, Steven Gardner, I think his name was, stand to our left. Slater winks at me, a smirk on his face. My face drops as I realize how much trouble we're in. From the balcony, I hear the sound of footsteps, and a short, squat man I recognize from the files as Grant Aamor puts his hands on the railing and looks down at us.
"Nice of you to join the party," he shouts gleefully. "You can put your weapons down. You won't be needing them."
"Son of a b****," Daren murmurs to himself while placing his gun on the ground. The rest of us do the same.
"Welcome to the party!" Aamor declares, looking positively delighted with himself. "Actually, there was no party in the first place." He laughs cruelly. "Oh, did Trueman tell you otherwise? Well..." He starts giggling, and the Prophet agents close in on us, guns raised.
"He lied."
Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
Chapter 18
My hands are roughly shoved behind my back and a gun presses into my skin. The cold metal makes me shiver, like there's nails scraping against a chalkboard. Adrian Key pats me down and takes all my weapons away from me, while other Prophet agents do the same to my teammates. Grant Aamor watches from the balcony, his face lit up with glee. I glance towards my brother, who appears to have shaved and now looks uncannily like me. He deliberately doesn't look at me, and pats down Adamaris, who just looks plain bored. "I'm honestly surprised you guys were that gullible!" Aamor shouts ecstatically from the balcony. "Thanks again for that! It's been a pleasure." He walks down the steps and looks towards all of us. "It's really a pity we can't kill you. Yet, at least."
"Why not?" Daren asks, a smirk on his face. "We too important?"
Natalie Hunt remains on the stairs, but she makes perfect eye contact with me. I'm not sure what she's trying to convey. My eyes snap to Gardner when he lets out a barking laugh, a smug grin on his face. "No! I'd be happy to kill you all right now! Unfortunately..." He draws back his fist and punches Daren in the face, who cries out and crashes to the ground. "We're not allowed."
"L-Leave him a-alone!" Madeline shouts at him, and Gardner turns to her.
"Oh," he says, crossing his arms. "It's you." He moves closer to Madeline. "How's the stutter? You probably don't want to answer that question, by the way."
He steps closer to her, a little too close to her, way inside her personal space. She cringes away from him. "G-Get away fr-from me..." she stutters nervously, and Gardner laughs, and he slides one of his hands down her back, a light in his eyes that I don't like, and a fury wells up inside of me, I'm ready to kill him, the little-
"Gardner!" Natalie Hunt yells, a scared look on her face but authority in her tone. Gardner backs away, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms, looking a little angry and a bit deranged.
"What, sweetheart?" he demands, as if he doesn't know what he did.
"You know damn well what!" she retorts, walking down the staircase quickly, anger in her eyes.
"Everyone, just be quiet!" Aamor commands, and silence falls over us. I make eye contact with Adamaris, who shakes his head no. We can't escape yet. More of Prophet's men arrive, with sub-automatic weaponry and they surround us even more. and Aamor clears his throat and brushes off some invisible dust. "Gardner, you're in charge of the men holding these four at gunpoint. I'll be leaving. Joe, Damien, Katherine, Adrian, you all will infiltrate their Headquarters." Three of the new men give Slater, Katherine, and Adrian the small circular devices Slater used to disguise himself as someone else. Adamaris has come to the same conclusion. Daren just lies on the ground, moaning, and gets up.
"You're going to impersonate us?" Adamaris inquires, quirking an eyebrow.
"That's right," Slater replies matter-of-factly, and looks directly at Adamaris, and places the device on the back of his neck. A blue flash ripples over his body and his features change to match that of Adamaris. Katherine takes her device and does the same, taking the appearance of Madeline. Adrian turns into Daren, and my brother looks directly at me.
"I'll kill you when I get back," he says calmly, without any trace of emotion in his voice, as if he's just discussing what's for dinner rather than killing me.
"Damien, don't do this," I plead, and he smiles, still with that eerie calm around him.
"How about...no..." he replies, and a broken light shines in his eyes, and he walks away from me. Aamor leaves the room, and Slater, Damien, Adrian, and Katherine leave as well. Katherine goes first, then Damien, then Adrian, and then Slater is about to go through the exit when he turns to face the four of us.
"I guess I'll be seeing you around!" he calls, and waves goodbye. The door slams shut behind him and it's just me, Daren, Adamaris, Madeline, Gardner, Hunt, and the rest of the Prophet grunts. Gardner takes a deep breath through his nose, and closes his eyes. He exhales deeply, flexing his fingers, and he runs a hand through his long, greasy hair.
"Well, here we are," he states simply. "This is going to be boring, I can tell."
"Don't you dare get any ideas, you pig," Hunt demands angrily. Gardner heads up the stairs to her.
"Come now, come now," he says, holding his hands up as if to soothe her, and steps closer to her, and into her personal space. She coldly pushes him away and he nearly topples down the stairs.
Hunt stalks down the stairs and turns to all of us. "I'm terribly sorry about him," she apologizes, sounding sincere. "I didn't want him to be here, especially with you, Madeline."
"T-Thank you," Madeline responds, looking a bit unsure.
"Don't sympathize with the prisoners, Hunt!" Gardner shouts, heading back down the stairs, an anger in his eyes. "You don't want to end up on Malik's operating table, do you?" She starts to respond in kind, but Gardner interrupts her anyway. "No. No you don't. You've always been the one to ask questions, maybe it was the fact that you were CIA, maybe it was the fact that maybe you're getting cold feet about this. ARE YOU?"
I look at Adamaris, not sure what's going on but we both know we could probably use this inner conflict in Prophet to get out of here. Hunt steps forward, an expression of pure fury on her face. "Of course not! If anything, you all are the ones who are deserting! I've read the manuscript, and this is NOT what Bartholomew had in mind when he created us!"
"BARTHOLOMEW IS DEAD!" Gardner pretty much screams, spit flying, and my team and I back up. Gardner and Hunt are inches apart, each looking like they want to rip the other into little pieces. I remain silent, not sure how to react, as there are still about fifteen soldiers with guns trained on us who seem to be completely neutral about this whole fight. Gardner steps back, face softening a bit, and he runs his fingers through his hair again. He steps towards Hunt, a bit more submissively. "We...still have the same, righteous goals," he says quietly, getting back inside her personal space, but she does not back down. "We're just...a bit more...lenient on our morals."
"I've viewed the files," Hunt states coldly. "Bartholomew is not dead."
"But how would you know?" Gardner almost coos, placing his hand on her butt, that same light in his eyes that I've seen in Damien, that same fractured light. She slaps his hands away. "I always thought you were a fool," he continues softly. "Just an idealistic fool."
Hunt turns, and walks away, and bumps past me, and I turn to her and she almost imperceptibly nods towards me. It's not enough for Gardner to notice, but Adamaris, Daren and Madeline notice it as well, and steady themselves. Hunt opens the door and slams it shut. Gardner claps his hands together.
"Well, that's got her out of my hair," he says cheerfully. "If I don't receive a call from my compatriots within the next fifteen minutes, I get to shoot you all. We're only keeping you here as leverage, just in case."
I see someone move over a skylight, and I have a suspicion as to who it is. Gardner laughs, not noticing, and turns to Madeline. "You'll get to share the same fate as your friend. I hope you appreciate that, Madi-"
The glass breaks and the building erupts into chaos. The four of us burst into action, and I see one of the grunts drop dead, a bullet through his chest. It came from the skylight. I quickly wrestle a grunt's weapon out of his hands and clobber him in the head with it. Madeline almost leaps towards Gardner and punches him in the face so hard that he's sent sprawling to the ground, glasses broken. Adamaris knocks a sub-machine gun out of a guard's hands and starts shooting, killing about three or four of them. Daren chops one in the neck before taking his weapon. All of this happens in the space of three or four seconds.
Gardner gets up, groaning, and we all duck for cover. Madeline runs up the stairs, grabbing a gun and shooting at Gardner, who hides underneath the balcony. Automatic fire chases after me, and I shoot back, aiming for the legs. Still not ready to kill anyone. Adamaris calmly starts plowing down more and more of them, using their own fire to kill their teammates, until he’s slammed by one of them into the wall, and he slumps to the ground. The grunt about to kill him is shot in the back of the head by Madeline, who looks positively engaged in the battle, and I look up towards the broken skylight to see Natalie Hunt holding a rifle in her hands. She raises her hand so that I can see it, and she vanishes from my sight. Not one of the Prophet agents, not even Gardner sees this.
Daren snaps one of their necks before wielding two of their guns like they’re toys, and soon there’s only a few of them left. Gardner coughs violently and tries to slip away during the chaos. Daren turns his guns to him but his attention is diverted by a particularly big brute. I aim my gun at Gardner and fire, hitting him in the leg and causing him to fall over, yelling out in pain. Madeline fires off shot after shot, and they all find their marks. I’m beginning to think that these grunts weren’t the brightest bulbs in the drawer. The agents I’ve encountered have been far more competent. A shot bursts a jar sitting right next to me, and instinctively I fire.
It hits the man square in the chest, and his bulging eyes look down in surprise, and he crumples. Something squirms inside of me, and my heart starts to quicken. I just killed someone. My first kill. I just...killed someone. I don’t have time to contemplate, as Adamaris cries out in pain, and I run towards him. He lies on the ground, bleeding from the stomach. Another shot, and I barely manage to dodge. Gardner backs away towards the door, having fired both shots, and I take pleasure in the fact that he is limping badly. Daren fires back at him just as he puts his phone to his ear, likely to report back to his superiors, but the sub-automatic fire causes him to drop it and slam the door behind him, and the phone cracks.
The three of us gather around Adamaris. Any hint of animosity Daren has for me is gone now. Now, we just are all concerned about Adamaris. “You okay?” I ask worriedly, and he chuckles.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just...get back to Headquarters and stop them. I think...that they’re going to free Trueman.”
“We need to get you to a hospital,” I say worriedly.
“Wow, really?” Daren says sarcastically.
“Daren!” Adamaris barks. “Not now! There are far more important things at hand here. I’ll live. Just...get back to Headquarters. Stop them. I’ll get myself to a hospital using one of the cars here. Just get me there.”
We help him outside and I look towards a neighboring rooftop to see that our snipers that we’d set up were murdered. We get into the car and Adamaris fumbles around for his FBI identity, and we drop him off at the hospital. He stumbles towards the door and personnel see him, and run towards him. We drive off. I’m in the driver’s seat, Madeline is sitting next to me. Daren is in the back. “Hey...Madeline?” I ask, a little worried.
“Y-Yes?” she inquires.
“Don’t you have to press buttons on the elevator in a certain order before you can head down to Headquarters?”
“Y-Yes,” she says, “b-but I w-was talking w-with Elijah, a-and i-it seems as th-though he r-rem-members telling th-them about i-it.”
I sigh. “Then we need to get back. As soon as possible.”
***
The four members of “Adamaris’s team” looked completely inconspicuous as they walked through the door. True, the Shade Device did not affect clothing, but Daniel's team had been wearing tuxedos because they'd thought it was a party, so it didn't matter. All they needed to do before revealing themselves would be to free Trueman. Then, it wouldn’t matter whether they were disguised or not. It wouldn’t matter one little bit. Damien led the four into the lobby, holding a slip of paper in his hands.
“Katherine, just don’t talk,” Slater said in Adamaris’s voice. It sounded considerably colder and more clinical than it usually did. “The girl has a stutter, but the Shade Device won’t duplicate that.”
“Understood, Joseph,” Katherine replied in Madeline’s voice, which sounded noticeably different without the stutter. Adrian remained quiet, calming himself and clutching his gun. They got into the elevator and Damien punched in the combination. Seven. Six. One. Three. The elevator started moving downwards, and Damien reflected on the fact that they were going to be inside Malcolm’s headquarters. Pity they couldn’t just kill everyone inside. Unfortunately, that was not the purpose of the mission. The purpose of the mission was to fetch Trueman and grab a little bit of information Malcolm had been keeping secret from his followers. Prophet hadn’t even been able to get it out of him. The four started applying fake blood, there would have been no way they’d have gotten out of the fight unscathed.
“Hey, question?” Adrian asked in Daren’s voice. “Why did Trueman come up with such a convoluted plan?”
“He wanted to see the layout of Malcolm’s headquarters, and mess with them a bit,” Slater replied. “He’s always loved doing that. Of course, after establishing himself as a reliable source of information, they wouldn’t have believed that we were actually at a party, and it wasn’t just a Prophet trap.”
“So he manipulated them by telling the truth?” Adrian asked incredulously.
Slater shrugged. “Until the end.” The elevator dinged, and they adopted weary expressions almost at will, and walked into Headquarters. They had no need to attack. They didn't view Malcolm or his group as that important. "Daniel! Adamaris!" Malcolm ran towards them, face fraught with worry. "What happened? We lost all radio contact."
"It was a trap," Slater winced. "They were waiting for us. Killed our snipers. We barely managed to get out alive. We...just need to rest." He put the same inflections in his tones as Adamaris did, and it was convincing enough for Malcolm.
"Very well," Malcolm replied, stroking his mustache. "Very well, very well. I'm going to have to have a bit of a chat with Trueman. I knew one of the snipers...he was my friend. Poor, poor guy," Malcolm wandered off and the four Prophet agents split up. Adrian went away from the west and looked into the evidence room to see Trueman's cane on the table, and Adam Goodwin in the back. Adrian quietly crept inside and grabbed it. Katherine stayed out of sight and started placing several bombs along the walls. Slater and Damien strode down towards the prison cell, and stood outside, checking their watches. A guard came around the corner.
"Excuse me, do you have authorization to be down here-" Damien raised his silenced pistol and fired. Adrian slipped towards them, cane in hand.
"All right, everybody in position?" Adrian inquired, a grin on his face.
"Almost," Slater responded, and the clock turned 10:00. He smiled. Bang. They could hear the explosion from their lower floor. Katherine had placed a bomb on one of the upper floors to divert their attention. They heard gunshots, and Katherine ran around the corner to them.
"All right, I have the combination! Seven four one three." Slater quickly typed it in and the door slid open. The four intruders slipped inside, and Marcus Trueman sat there, looking genuinely pleased to see them.
"Glad to see everything worked out," he said calmly, brushing himself off.
"Your cane, Marcus," Adrian said, holding it out to him, and the shorter man took it, examining it and smiling confidently. He pulled the trigger and the end lit up with electricity. He pressed it again and it returned to normal.
"Pleasure to see you all again," he said genuinely, looking quite happy to see them, and practically strutted out of the prison cell he’d been in for some time now like he was just leaving his bedroom for the day. Trueman used his cane to help him walk, even though it wasn't necessary to do so, and he had no walking problems whatsoever. His smile widened into a grin, and several of Malcolm's men saw what was going on and yelled that they were in the prison hallway, and pointed their guns at the Prophet agents. Malcolm laughed. "Let's give them hell, shall we?"
Three seconds later and the two men with their guns raised at them were dead.
My hands are roughly shoved behind my back and a gun presses into my skin. The cold metal makes me shiver, like there's nails scraping against a chalkboard. Adrian Key pats me down and takes all my weapons away from me, while other Prophet agents do the same to my teammates. Grant Aamor watches from the balcony, his face lit up with glee. I glance towards my brother, who appears to have shaved and now looks uncannily like me. He deliberately doesn't look at me, and pats down Adamaris, who just looks plain bored. "I'm honestly surprised you guys were that gullible!" Aamor shouts ecstatically from the balcony. "Thanks again for that! It's been a pleasure." He walks down the steps and looks towards all of us. "It's really a pity we can't kill you. Yet, at least."
"Why not?" Daren asks, a smirk on his face. "We too important?"
Natalie Hunt remains on the stairs, but she makes perfect eye contact with me. I'm not sure what she's trying to convey. My eyes snap to Gardner when he lets out a barking laugh, a smug grin on his face. "No! I'd be happy to kill you all right now! Unfortunately..." He draws back his fist and punches Daren in the face, who cries out and crashes to the ground. "We're not allowed."
"L-Leave him a-alone!" Madeline shouts at him, and Gardner turns to her.
"Oh," he says, crossing his arms. "It's you." He moves closer to Madeline. "How's the stutter? You probably don't want to answer that question, by the way."
He steps closer to her, a little too close to her, way inside her personal space. She cringes away from him. "G-Get away fr-from me..." she stutters nervously, and Gardner laughs, and he slides one of his hands down her back, a light in his eyes that I don't like, and a fury wells up inside of me, I'm ready to kill him, the little-
"Gardner!" Natalie Hunt yells, a scared look on her face but authority in her tone. Gardner backs away, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms, looking a little angry and a bit deranged.
"What, sweetheart?" he demands, as if he doesn't know what he did.
"You know damn well what!" she retorts, walking down the staircase quickly, anger in her eyes.
"Everyone, just be quiet!" Aamor commands, and silence falls over us. I make eye contact with Adamaris, who shakes his head no. We can't escape yet. More of Prophet's men arrive, with sub-automatic weaponry and they surround us even more. and Aamor clears his throat and brushes off some invisible dust. "Gardner, you're in charge of the men holding these four at gunpoint. I'll be leaving. Joe, Damien, Katherine, Adrian, you all will infiltrate their Headquarters." Three of the new men give Slater, Katherine, and Adrian the small circular devices Slater used to disguise himself as someone else. Adamaris has come to the same conclusion. Daren just lies on the ground, moaning, and gets up.
"You're going to impersonate us?" Adamaris inquires, quirking an eyebrow.
"That's right," Slater replies matter-of-factly, and looks directly at Adamaris, and places the device on the back of his neck. A blue flash ripples over his body and his features change to match that of Adamaris. Katherine takes her device and does the same, taking the appearance of Madeline. Adrian turns into Daren, and my brother looks directly at me.
"I'll kill you when I get back," he says calmly, without any trace of emotion in his voice, as if he's just discussing what's for dinner rather than killing me.
"Damien, don't do this," I plead, and he smiles, still with that eerie calm around him.
"How about...no..." he replies, and a broken light shines in his eyes, and he walks away from me. Aamor leaves the room, and Slater, Damien, Adrian, and Katherine leave as well. Katherine goes first, then Damien, then Adrian, and then Slater is about to go through the exit when he turns to face the four of us.
"I guess I'll be seeing you around!" he calls, and waves goodbye. The door slams shut behind him and it's just me, Daren, Adamaris, Madeline, Gardner, Hunt, and the rest of the Prophet grunts. Gardner takes a deep breath through his nose, and closes his eyes. He exhales deeply, flexing his fingers, and he runs a hand through his long, greasy hair.
"Well, here we are," he states simply. "This is going to be boring, I can tell."
"Don't you dare get any ideas, you pig," Hunt demands angrily. Gardner heads up the stairs to her.
"Come now, come now," he says, holding his hands up as if to soothe her, and steps closer to her, and into her personal space. She coldly pushes him away and he nearly topples down the stairs.
Hunt stalks down the stairs and turns to all of us. "I'm terribly sorry about him," she apologizes, sounding sincere. "I didn't want him to be here, especially with you, Madeline."
"T-Thank you," Madeline responds, looking a bit unsure.
"Don't sympathize with the prisoners, Hunt!" Gardner shouts, heading back down the stairs, an anger in his eyes. "You don't want to end up on Malik's operating table, do you?" She starts to respond in kind, but Gardner interrupts her anyway. "No. No you don't. You've always been the one to ask questions, maybe it was the fact that you were CIA, maybe it was the fact that maybe you're getting cold feet about this. ARE YOU?"
I look at Adamaris, not sure what's going on but we both know we could probably use this inner conflict in Prophet to get out of here. Hunt steps forward, an expression of pure fury on her face. "Of course not! If anything, you all are the ones who are deserting! I've read the manuscript, and this is NOT what Bartholomew had in mind when he created us!"
"BARTHOLOMEW IS DEAD!" Gardner pretty much screams, spit flying, and my team and I back up. Gardner and Hunt are inches apart, each looking like they want to rip the other into little pieces. I remain silent, not sure how to react, as there are still about fifteen soldiers with guns trained on us who seem to be completely neutral about this whole fight. Gardner steps back, face softening a bit, and he runs his fingers through his hair again. He steps towards Hunt, a bit more submissively. "We...still have the same, righteous goals," he says quietly, getting back inside her personal space, but she does not back down. "We're just...a bit more...lenient on our morals."
"I've viewed the files," Hunt states coldly. "Bartholomew is not dead."
"But how would you know?" Gardner almost coos, placing his hand on her butt, that same light in his eyes that I've seen in Damien, that same fractured light. She slaps his hands away. "I always thought you were a fool," he continues softly. "Just an idealistic fool."
Hunt turns, and walks away, and bumps past me, and I turn to her and she almost imperceptibly nods towards me. It's not enough for Gardner to notice, but Adamaris, Daren and Madeline notice it as well, and steady themselves. Hunt opens the door and slams it shut. Gardner claps his hands together.
"Well, that's got her out of my hair," he says cheerfully. "If I don't receive a call from my compatriots within the next fifteen minutes, I get to shoot you all. We're only keeping you here as leverage, just in case."
I see someone move over a skylight, and I have a suspicion as to who it is. Gardner laughs, not noticing, and turns to Madeline. "You'll get to share the same fate as your friend. I hope you appreciate that, Madi-"
The glass breaks and the building erupts into chaos. The four of us burst into action, and I see one of the grunts drop dead, a bullet through his chest. It came from the skylight. I quickly wrestle a grunt's weapon out of his hands and clobber him in the head with it. Madeline almost leaps towards Gardner and punches him in the face so hard that he's sent sprawling to the ground, glasses broken. Adamaris knocks a sub-machine gun out of a guard's hands and starts shooting, killing about three or four of them. Daren chops one in the neck before taking his weapon. All of this happens in the space of three or four seconds.
Gardner gets up, groaning, and we all duck for cover. Madeline runs up the stairs, grabbing a gun and shooting at Gardner, who hides underneath the balcony. Automatic fire chases after me, and I shoot back, aiming for the legs. Still not ready to kill anyone. Adamaris calmly starts plowing down more and more of them, using their own fire to kill their teammates, until he’s slammed by one of them into the wall, and he slumps to the ground. The grunt about to kill him is shot in the back of the head by Madeline, who looks positively engaged in the battle, and I look up towards the broken skylight to see Natalie Hunt holding a rifle in her hands. She raises her hand so that I can see it, and she vanishes from my sight. Not one of the Prophet agents, not even Gardner sees this.
Daren snaps one of their necks before wielding two of their guns like they’re toys, and soon there’s only a few of them left. Gardner coughs violently and tries to slip away during the chaos. Daren turns his guns to him but his attention is diverted by a particularly big brute. I aim my gun at Gardner and fire, hitting him in the leg and causing him to fall over, yelling out in pain. Madeline fires off shot after shot, and they all find their marks. I’m beginning to think that these grunts weren’t the brightest bulbs in the drawer. The agents I’ve encountered have been far more competent. A shot bursts a jar sitting right next to me, and instinctively I fire.
It hits the man square in the chest, and his bulging eyes look down in surprise, and he crumples. Something squirms inside of me, and my heart starts to quicken. I just killed someone. My first kill. I just...killed someone. I don’t have time to contemplate, as Adamaris cries out in pain, and I run towards him. He lies on the ground, bleeding from the stomach. Another shot, and I barely manage to dodge. Gardner backs away towards the door, having fired both shots, and I take pleasure in the fact that he is limping badly. Daren fires back at him just as he puts his phone to his ear, likely to report back to his superiors, but the sub-automatic fire causes him to drop it and slam the door behind him, and the phone cracks.
The three of us gather around Adamaris. Any hint of animosity Daren has for me is gone now. Now, we just are all concerned about Adamaris. “You okay?” I ask worriedly, and he chuckles.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just...get back to Headquarters and stop them. I think...that they’re going to free Trueman.”
“We need to get you to a hospital,” I say worriedly.
“Wow, really?” Daren says sarcastically.
“Daren!” Adamaris barks. “Not now! There are far more important things at hand here. I’ll live. Just...get back to Headquarters. Stop them. I’ll get myself to a hospital using one of the cars here. Just get me there.”
We help him outside and I look towards a neighboring rooftop to see that our snipers that we’d set up were murdered. We get into the car and Adamaris fumbles around for his FBI identity, and we drop him off at the hospital. He stumbles towards the door and personnel see him, and run towards him. We drive off. I’m in the driver’s seat, Madeline is sitting next to me. Daren is in the back. “Hey...Madeline?” I ask, a little worried.
“Y-Yes?” she inquires.
“Don’t you have to press buttons on the elevator in a certain order before you can head down to Headquarters?”
“Y-Yes,” she says, “b-but I w-was talking w-with Elijah, a-and i-it seems as th-though he r-rem-members telling th-them about i-it.”
I sigh. “Then we need to get back. As soon as possible.”
***
The four members of “Adamaris’s team” looked completely inconspicuous as they walked through the door. True, the Shade Device did not affect clothing, but Daniel's team had been wearing tuxedos because they'd thought it was a party, so it didn't matter. All they needed to do before revealing themselves would be to free Trueman. Then, it wouldn’t matter whether they were disguised or not. It wouldn’t matter one little bit. Damien led the four into the lobby, holding a slip of paper in his hands.
“Katherine, just don’t talk,” Slater said in Adamaris’s voice. It sounded considerably colder and more clinical than it usually did. “The girl has a stutter, but the Shade Device won’t duplicate that.”
“Understood, Joseph,” Katherine replied in Madeline’s voice, which sounded noticeably different without the stutter. Adrian remained quiet, calming himself and clutching his gun. They got into the elevator and Damien punched in the combination. Seven. Six. One. Three. The elevator started moving downwards, and Damien reflected on the fact that they were going to be inside Malcolm’s headquarters. Pity they couldn’t just kill everyone inside. Unfortunately, that was not the purpose of the mission. The purpose of the mission was to fetch Trueman and grab a little bit of information Malcolm had been keeping secret from his followers. Prophet hadn’t even been able to get it out of him. The four started applying fake blood, there would have been no way they’d have gotten out of the fight unscathed.
“Hey, question?” Adrian asked in Daren’s voice. “Why did Trueman come up with such a convoluted plan?”
“He wanted to see the layout of Malcolm’s headquarters, and mess with them a bit,” Slater replied. “He’s always loved doing that. Of course, after establishing himself as a reliable source of information, they wouldn’t have believed that we were actually at a party, and it wasn’t just a Prophet trap.”
“So he manipulated them by telling the truth?” Adrian asked incredulously.
Slater shrugged. “Until the end.” The elevator dinged, and they adopted weary expressions almost at will, and walked into Headquarters. They had no need to attack. They didn't view Malcolm or his group as that important. "Daniel! Adamaris!" Malcolm ran towards them, face fraught with worry. "What happened? We lost all radio contact."
"It was a trap," Slater winced. "They were waiting for us. Killed our snipers. We barely managed to get out alive. We...just need to rest." He put the same inflections in his tones as Adamaris did, and it was convincing enough for Malcolm.
"Very well," Malcolm replied, stroking his mustache. "Very well, very well. I'm going to have to have a bit of a chat with Trueman. I knew one of the snipers...he was my friend. Poor, poor guy," Malcolm wandered off and the four Prophet agents split up. Adrian went away from the west and looked into the evidence room to see Trueman's cane on the table, and Adam Goodwin in the back. Adrian quietly crept inside and grabbed it. Katherine stayed out of sight and started placing several bombs along the walls. Slater and Damien strode down towards the prison cell, and stood outside, checking their watches. A guard came around the corner.
"Excuse me, do you have authorization to be down here-" Damien raised his silenced pistol and fired. Adrian slipped towards them, cane in hand.
"All right, everybody in position?" Adrian inquired, a grin on his face.
"Almost," Slater responded, and the clock turned 10:00. He smiled. Bang. They could hear the explosion from their lower floor. Katherine had placed a bomb on one of the upper floors to divert their attention. They heard gunshots, and Katherine ran around the corner to them.
"All right, I have the combination! Seven four one three." Slater quickly typed it in and the door slid open. The four intruders slipped inside, and Marcus Trueman sat there, looking genuinely pleased to see them.
"Glad to see everything worked out," he said calmly, brushing himself off.
"Your cane, Marcus," Adrian said, holding it out to him, and the shorter man took it, examining it and smiling confidently. He pulled the trigger and the end lit up with electricity. He pressed it again and it returned to normal.
"Pleasure to see you all again," he said genuinely, looking quite happy to see them, and practically strutted out of the prison cell he’d been in for some time now like he was just leaving his bedroom for the day. Trueman used his cane to help him walk, even though it wasn't necessary to do so, and he had no walking problems whatsoever. His smile widened into a grin, and several of Malcolm's men saw what was going on and yelled that they were in the prison hallway, and pointed their guns at the Prophet agents. Malcolm laughed. "Let's give them hell, shall we?"
Three seconds later and the two men with their guns raised at them were dead.
Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
Part of the purpose of the previous chapter was to expand on Gardner's character. I'd written in my notes that he was a "slimeball" but I hadn't really shown anything that indicated he was that, so there you go.
Chapter 19
Trueman strode down the hallway, his partners keeping watch after every corner, guns at the ready. They could hear the sirens wail, and the people running around, trying to find them and probably just following the dead bodies. Trueman stopped at a door and turned to it. He raised his cane up to the electronic lock and it beeped. The door opened, and Trueman turned to his fellow Prophet agents. "Keep guard out here," he commanded, looking at Slater, Damien, Adrian, and Katherine. "Actually, no. Split up. Draw them away from here, but one of you stay here and guard this door. There's something I need to fetch.
"Of course, sir," Katherine said, and ran off in the opposite direction as Adrian, while Damien chuckled to himself, readying his guns and slowly walking down the hallway. Slater leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Trueman walked inside the room cautiously. He could hear the gunshots from outside, he had no idea whether or not they were winning or losing. The room was darkly lit, and was filled with file cabinets having to do with Prophet, Malcolm's group, and everything they could possibly need to know about in order to function properly. Trueman knew he would find his own name and image in there somewhere, and he didn't care. He walked towards the back of the room and he saw it. A file, marked different from the rest. He picked it up, and skimmed through it, and smiled to himself. The name of the file read "Prometheus."
In the file was contained every bit and data of Prometheus Malcolm had collected over the years. All his sightings, all his influences. All his known locations. Everything else in the room, every single file but this, Prophet already knew. This was the most important piece. He placed the file inside his jacket, and then heard the click of a gun. He turned around to see a mismatched-looking fellow with a quirky smile and mismatched clothes. Randall Quinn.
"I had a feeling you'd come here," Quinn said casually, still looking too comfortable for Marcus's tastes. A scream echoed through the room from outside. "You always did want to know what Prometheus said to make Malcolm leave, and me with him."
"Well-" Trueman began, only to be cut off by Quinn.
"But that's not all, is it?" Quinn made a pouty face at him. "You wouldn't come here just for that. That's way too complex a scheme for something so little of value. So what other reason would you want the Prometheus file?" Quinn mused, mainly to himself, tapping his chin with his free hand in thought. Trueman gripped his cane tightly. Unfortunately, the poison gas only had one use, therefore, he couldn't get rid of this nuisance that way. But Quinn was distracting himself by talking, and Trueman knew that that would be his undoing.
"That's none of your business," Trueman replied coolly. "You know that I-"
"Not used to having the conversation out of your favor?" Quinn laughed. "Always used to cutting other people off, being in control of the situation? Well, well, can't have that, can you? You always were a bit queer about your leadership, all those passive-aggressive threats to me if I didn't do what you wanted-"
"Randall," Trueman groaned. "If you're going to shoot me, do it." He put on an innocent smile, and flipped his cane to gun setting, held behind his back. Quinn laughed again.
"Who do you think you're fooling? Prometheus was the one flaw in your perfect plan. He told Malcolm something was up. That led to him asking questions, and not getting any answers. Do you want to find out everything we know about him? You wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't important to you somehow, and I've gathered the impression that your people view us as a mere nuisance, so it isn't related to us. No. No, it's related to something you want."
"Randall," Trueman said again cautiously, his finger held lightly on the trigger.
"We never could figure out what you wanted," Quinn interrupted, his voice getting more and more sardonic and in control. "You wouldn't tell me anything. We had to pass those stupid tests first, make sure we wouldn't tell anyone. But I never passed that test...so you told me nothing and expected me to wander blindly in your footsteps. Prometheus...he's related to something you want. You either...want something from him...or you want to kill him." He chuckled.
Trueman sighed. "It doesn't matter. Are you going to stand here and chat all day or are you going to report me in?"
Quinn laughed again, louder this time. "Oh, and have you shoot me with your cane while I'm on the phone? I'm not that stu-"
In a blinding blur, Trueman raised his cane and fired, a split second too late. Quinn dived out of the way, ducking behind a file cabinet. The knockback was a little too great for Trueman, and he was preoccupied for a few moments trying to compose himself and his weapon. Quinn fired back, and Trueman drew out his own gun from his pocket. The two men fired at each other, moving from file cabinet to file cabinet. Trueman changed the settings on his cane and pulled the trigger, electrocuting the end of it and swinging wildly with it. Sparks flew, and Quinn dropped his gun, yelping. Trueman closed in, but Quinn rolled underneath him and kicked his legs out from under him. Trueman fell to the floor.
Quinn smiled calmly and kicked his gun and cane away from him as he tried to squirm. "How does it feel to have the positions reversed?" Quinn asked conversationally, picking up his gun and aiming it at Trueman's face. In response, Trueman lobbed up some spit and ejected it from his mouth onto Quinn's shoe as it pressed down on him. "Oh, I see," Quinn chuckled. "When I left you, I was but the learner, now I am the master," he quipped, and placed his foot on Trueman's throat, choking him. "There will be no famous last words for you," he sneered. "If a scholar were to ask about this day ten years from now, about what your last words were, I would take pleasure in telling him it was 'agggggghhhhh."
He prepared to end Trueman's life, but was interrupted by a shudder. He could hear the explosion, he could feel it, and he stumbled away. Trueman quickly pressed his advantage and grabbed his cane, and pulled the trigger, and whammed the electric end of his cane into Quinn's torso Quinn screamed out in pain, smoke drifting from his clothes, and slumped to the floor in a heap. His breathing was deep and slow. The door opened, and Slater stood at the door.
"Sir, the team Gardner was guarding escaped. That was them. With the explosion," Slater said breathlessly, and raised his gun and started firing. Trueman nodded, and ran towards the exit, straightening his clothes and brushing himself off. For the first time in several years, Trueman had actually been about to die.
It felt strange to think it would happen again.
***
The three of us stumble into the office building, and I look at Madeline and Daren's worried faces. Once again, we walked right into Prophet's hands. I'm not sure if that's saying something for their intelligence or our lack of. We certainly haven't been able to outwit them much. Our eyes flit around. Even the common people who don't know anything about us or Prophet know something's going on. My eyes find Adam Goodwin, who's tapping his foot impatiently and looking decidedly anxious. He sees us and he hurriedly motions for us to move over to him. We do so, and he looks around, terrified at us.
"Something's going on," he whimpers. "I'm pretty sure Prophet is in our base."
"They are," I say soothingly. "What happened?"
"Well, I went out for a bit to get something to eat," Adam begins. "Then when I get back, I hear shouts from below. I try pressing the buttons in the right order, and I go down, but I hear fighting going on inside. Right when the doors open, shots are fired, and I got this." He shows us a wound on his shoulder. "They seem to have the entrance locked down."
"I-Is there a-any other w-way t-to get i-in?" Madeline asks anxiously.
"No, that's the only way in," he replies dejectedly.
"Well, we can't fight our way in," Daren muses. "They'd just slaughter us." We all pace for a bit, trying to think rationally and come up with a plan. It isn't exactly working out real well. Finally, I see Daren's face light up, a light bulb seems to have gone off in his head. "I have an idea," he says, a sly grin forming on his face. "You're not going to like it, but I have an idea."
"Well, what is it?" I ask, trying to sound kind.
"I was about to tell you, you know," he snaps. "Well, we should probably get everyone out of the building first. And I'm going to need some equipment. Adam!" Adam snaps to attention. "I need you to go to Randall Quinn's house and fetch a few things for me. Quickly, please. I'll write them down for you."
"Randall Quinn's house?" I ask incredulously.
"Tell him, Madi, I don't have time to deal with idiots," he sneers, teeth grit, and starts writing, Adam pretty much bouncing beside him.
"Q-Quinn's house i-is cr-crazy stocked," Madeline explains. "L-Loads and l-loads o-of equipment. I-It's only a-about f-five minute's dr-drive. H-He...prefers to st-stay outside o-of H-headquarters."
"I see," I respond, understanding now. Daren hands Adam the piece of paper, and he runs towards his car, looking excited that he has something to do. He drives off, and Daren turns to the man at the counter.
"Tell your boss that this is a Code 1162. Evacuate everyone immediately. They'll be in danger if they stay here." The man nods furiously and picks up his phone. Soon, everyone is evacuated from the building, yelling, whispering, wondering what the hell is going on. They're confused, and scared. Adam returns with the supplies, and we help him bring them in. I look to see that he's carrying a small bomb.
"Why is he carrying a bomb?" I ask rhetorically. Daren rolls his eyes.
"So we can have a tea party, Daniel," he drawls sarcastically. "Yeah, 'cause that makes sense."
"Why are you being so-"
"Boys!" Madeline yells. "N-Now is n-not th-the time." We stop bickering, and we set everything up. For some reason we have climbing gear with us. I'm not sure if I want to know. Daren opens the elevator and Adam places the bomb inside. Daren punches in the combination to make the elevator go down, and then exits the elevator. The door closes.
"What are you doing?" I ask nervously.
"This might be a really, really stupid idea," he admits, not making me feel any better, "but I'm going to blow up the bottom of the elevator shaft. That way, we can get in there by climbing down the shaft." I turn towards the climbing gear, understanding now.
"That's probably crazy enough to work," I admit grudgingly.
"I set the timer for about the time it should take for the bomb to reach the drop-off floor. Which should be right about...now." Right as he says the word 'now,' I can hear an explosion from floors beneath us, and Madeline lets out a little 'eep' sound as the floor shakes a bit.
"Should we really be standing here?" Adam inquires, looking scared.
"It's fine," Daren replies, and picks up a crowbar and wrenches the elevator door open. "Come on. Let's get climbing, shall we?"
He straps me into a harness, and the three of us plus Adam eventually make it down to Headquarters. It's probably the strangest, most surreal, most something-out-of-fiction thing I've ever done. I don't really feel like describing it, because it's pretty strange. I see the elevator door blasted off its hinges, and horror dawns on me as I see several of our own men lying dead from the blast. I turn towards Daren, bile rising in my throat, and his face falls infinitely.
"You mean," I seethe, "that you never considered...that SOME OF OUR OWN MEN COULD BE OVER HERE?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know? Adam made it sound like they'd taken control completely!"
"I thought they did!" Adam whimpers, horrified.
There's the click of a gun, and Adrian Key chuckles at us. "Yeah, thanks for that. You really helped us out there. I'm beginning to think the lot of you just want us to win. You're not even putting up a fight."
He fires, and we scatter. "Find the others!" Daren yells, and I run down a hallway, the battle anew. I run straight into Astrid.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demands.
"Following your orders!" I retort.
"More of them came in after the initial six did," she explains. "We've had our hands full. I'm sorry, okay? Just help me out here."
The first Prophet agents I've seen since we got out of Aamor's trap appear, and Astrid turns and raises her gun, firing rapidly. They fall over, and I turn to her. "Do you really need my help?"
"I have my limits," she growls. "Randall Quinn is protecting the data room, he thinks they might try to go after something in there. Malcolm and Elijah are running around, helping where they can. Where's the rest of your team?"
"Fighting," I respond easily. "Except for Adamaris. He got injured badly."
She nods. "Trueman's leading them now. We need to prevent them from escaping. Come on." We both start running, shots narrowly missing me. I turn back and fire, to find that I'm out of bullets in my clip. I hastily reload, and two men come after me. Astrid rolls her eyes and kills them without even blinking, before I can even fire my first shot. In the main hall, there's a giant firefight going on, and I can see Malcolm and Elijah shooting at the enemy. A shot is fired and Astrid cries out in pain. I turn to see Joseph Slater approaching us, gun raised at us.
"Hello again, Daniel," he says calmly.
"Go to hell!" I shout furiously, and fire at him. He fires back, and I duck behind a water cooler. His next shot bursts the water cooler, splashing water all over me. Astrid limps away from him, he's about to kill her. I fire at him, but miss, and his attention is once again back to me. He reloads and fires again, and this time I'm hit. Fire spreads throughout my leg and I fall to the ground. Astrid jumps on top of him and drags him to the floor, kicking his gun away from him. He knocks her out and runs, not even bothering to pick up his gun. I look at Astrid, and decide to get her out of the way. I drag her to a closet out of the way and leave her there. I don't know medicine, never have.
I leap down the stairs and join the firefight in the main area. Malcolm acknowledges my presence with a brief nod before continuing to fire. I glance at our opposition and see among them my brother, Katherine, and Adrian. One of the corridors opens and I see a figure emerge from it, but a shot forces me to back away before I can see any more. Then, something happens.
"STOP!" Trueman's voice rings throughout the room. I look up to see that he's holding a gun to Adam's head. "We don't have to slaughter each other. Today, at least. So tell me, Malcolm. Are you willing to lose even one of your men when they could be saved. Let us go free, all of us, out of this mudhole. You can relocate, and we can play hide and seek again. If not...well, I get to kill this one and then continue slaughtering you all. Your choice, Malcolm."
Malcolm turns to the rest of us, looking uncertain. "What are you going to do?" I whisper.
"I don't want to let them leave," Malcolm says. "But...I don't want them to kill Adam. I've...grown fond of him."
"I'm getting bored here!" Trueman yells. "Hurry it up, my trigger finger is getting very itchy!"
"Leave!" Malcolm yells, and Trueman smiles. He shoves Adam forward.
"Thank God! Thank God!" I hear him whimper, and he crawls away from Trueman, his lip bloodied. The Prophet agents start climbing the elevator shaft, and it's unnaturally quiet as they leave. Several of our men seem to want to shoot them, but Malcolm makes them hold their end of the deal. Soon, all of them are gone but Trueman, who waves goodbye to all of our men.
"See you soon!" he exclaims cheerfully, and climbs into the elevator shaft. It's total silence now, just whispers. Malcolm sighs and slumps down.
"Well," he says sadly, a mourning expression on his face, "it looks like we can't stay here."
Chapter 19
Trueman strode down the hallway, his partners keeping watch after every corner, guns at the ready. They could hear the sirens wail, and the people running around, trying to find them and probably just following the dead bodies. Trueman stopped at a door and turned to it. He raised his cane up to the electronic lock and it beeped. The door opened, and Trueman turned to his fellow Prophet agents. "Keep guard out here," he commanded, looking at Slater, Damien, Adrian, and Katherine. "Actually, no. Split up. Draw them away from here, but one of you stay here and guard this door. There's something I need to fetch.
"Of course, sir," Katherine said, and ran off in the opposite direction as Adrian, while Damien chuckled to himself, readying his guns and slowly walking down the hallway. Slater leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Trueman walked inside the room cautiously. He could hear the gunshots from outside, he had no idea whether or not they were winning or losing. The room was darkly lit, and was filled with file cabinets having to do with Prophet, Malcolm's group, and everything they could possibly need to know about in order to function properly. Trueman knew he would find his own name and image in there somewhere, and he didn't care. He walked towards the back of the room and he saw it. A file, marked different from the rest. He picked it up, and skimmed through it, and smiled to himself. The name of the file read "Prometheus."
In the file was contained every bit and data of Prometheus Malcolm had collected over the years. All his sightings, all his influences. All his known locations. Everything else in the room, every single file but this, Prophet already knew. This was the most important piece. He placed the file inside his jacket, and then heard the click of a gun. He turned around to see a mismatched-looking fellow with a quirky smile and mismatched clothes. Randall Quinn.
"I had a feeling you'd come here," Quinn said casually, still looking too comfortable for Marcus's tastes. A scream echoed through the room from outside. "You always did want to know what Prometheus said to make Malcolm leave, and me with him."
"Well-" Trueman began, only to be cut off by Quinn.
"But that's not all, is it?" Quinn made a pouty face at him. "You wouldn't come here just for that. That's way too complex a scheme for something so little of value. So what other reason would you want the Prometheus file?" Quinn mused, mainly to himself, tapping his chin with his free hand in thought. Trueman gripped his cane tightly. Unfortunately, the poison gas only had one use, therefore, he couldn't get rid of this nuisance that way. But Quinn was distracting himself by talking, and Trueman knew that that would be his undoing.
"That's none of your business," Trueman replied coolly. "You know that I-"
"Not used to having the conversation out of your favor?" Quinn laughed. "Always used to cutting other people off, being in control of the situation? Well, well, can't have that, can you? You always were a bit queer about your leadership, all those passive-aggressive threats to me if I didn't do what you wanted-"
"Randall," Trueman groaned. "If you're going to shoot me, do it." He put on an innocent smile, and flipped his cane to gun setting, held behind his back. Quinn laughed again.
"Who do you think you're fooling? Prometheus was the one flaw in your perfect plan. He told Malcolm something was up. That led to him asking questions, and not getting any answers. Do you want to find out everything we know about him? You wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't important to you somehow, and I've gathered the impression that your people view us as a mere nuisance, so it isn't related to us. No. No, it's related to something you want."
"Randall," Trueman said again cautiously, his finger held lightly on the trigger.
"We never could figure out what you wanted," Quinn interrupted, his voice getting more and more sardonic and in control. "You wouldn't tell me anything. We had to pass those stupid tests first, make sure we wouldn't tell anyone. But I never passed that test...so you told me nothing and expected me to wander blindly in your footsteps. Prometheus...he's related to something you want. You either...want something from him...or you want to kill him." He chuckled.
Trueman sighed. "It doesn't matter. Are you going to stand here and chat all day or are you going to report me in?"
Quinn laughed again, louder this time. "Oh, and have you shoot me with your cane while I'm on the phone? I'm not that stu-"
In a blinding blur, Trueman raised his cane and fired, a split second too late. Quinn dived out of the way, ducking behind a file cabinet. The knockback was a little too great for Trueman, and he was preoccupied for a few moments trying to compose himself and his weapon. Quinn fired back, and Trueman drew out his own gun from his pocket. The two men fired at each other, moving from file cabinet to file cabinet. Trueman changed the settings on his cane and pulled the trigger, electrocuting the end of it and swinging wildly with it. Sparks flew, and Quinn dropped his gun, yelping. Trueman closed in, but Quinn rolled underneath him and kicked his legs out from under him. Trueman fell to the floor.
Quinn smiled calmly and kicked his gun and cane away from him as he tried to squirm. "How does it feel to have the positions reversed?" Quinn asked conversationally, picking up his gun and aiming it at Trueman's face. In response, Trueman lobbed up some spit and ejected it from his mouth onto Quinn's shoe as it pressed down on him. "Oh, I see," Quinn chuckled. "When I left you, I was but the learner, now I am the master," he quipped, and placed his foot on Trueman's throat, choking him. "There will be no famous last words for you," he sneered. "If a scholar were to ask about this day ten years from now, about what your last words were, I would take pleasure in telling him it was 'agggggghhhhh."
He prepared to end Trueman's life, but was interrupted by a shudder. He could hear the explosion, he could feel it, and he stumbled away. Trueman quickly pressed his advantage and grabbed his cane, and pulled the trigger, and whammed the electric end of his cane into Quinn's torso Quinn screamed out in pain, smoke drifting from his clothes, and slumped to the floor in a heap. His breathing was deep and slow. The door opened, and Slater stood at the door.
"Sir, the team Gardner was guarding escaped. That was them. With the explosion," Slater said breathlessly, and raised his gun and started firing. Trueman nodded, and ran towards the exit, straightening his clothes and brushing himself off. For the first time in several years, Trueman had actually been about to die.
It felt strange to think it would happen again.
***
The three of us stumble into the office building, and I look at Madeline and Daren's worried faces. Once again, we walked right into Prophet's hands. I'm not sure if that's saying something for their intelligence or our lack of. We certainly haven't been able to outwit them much. Our eyes flit around. Even the common people who don't know anything about us or Prophet know something's going on. My eyes find Adam Goodwin, who's tapping his foot impatiently and looking decidedly anxious. He sees us and he hurriedly motions for us to move over to him. We do so, and he looks around, terrified at us.
"Something's going on," he whimpers. "I'm pretty sure Prophet is in our base."
"They are," I say soothingly. "What happened?"
"Well, I went out for a bit to get something to eat," Adam begins. "Then when I get back, I hear shouts from below. I try pressing the buttons in the right order, and I go down, but I hear fighting going on inside. Right when the doors open, shots are fired, and I got this." He shows us a wound on his shoulder. "They seem to have the entrance locked down."
"I-Is there a-any other w-way t-to get i-in?" Madeline asks anxiously.
"No, that's the only way in," he replies dejectedly.
"Well, we can't fight our way in," Daren muses. "They'd just slaughter us." We all pace for a bit, trying to think rationally and come up with a plan. It isn't exactly working out real well. Finally, I see Daren's face light up, a light bulb seems to have gone off in his head. "I have an idea," he says, a sly grin forming on his face. "You're not going to like it, but I have an idea."
"Well, what is it?" I ask, trying to sound kind.
"I was about to tell you, you know," he snaps. "Well, we should probably get everyone out of the building first. And I'm going to need some equipment. Adam!" Adam snaps to attention. "I need you to go to Randall Quinn's house and fetch a few things for me. Quickly, please. I'll write them down for you."
"Randall Quinn's house?" I ask incredulously.
"Tell him, Madi, I don't have time to deal with idiots," he sneers, teeth grit, and starts writing, Adam pretty much bouncing beside him.
"Q-Quinn's house i-is cr-crazy stocked," Madeline explains. "L-Loads and l-loads o-of equipment. I-It's only a-about f-five minute's dr-drive. H-He...prefers to st-stay outside o-of H-headquarters."
"I see," I respond, understanding now. Daren hands Adam the piece of paper, and he runs towards his car, looking excited that he has something to do. He drives off, and Daren turns to the man at the counter.
"Tell your boss that this is a Code 1162. Evacuate everyone immediately. They'll be in danger if they stay here." The man nods furiously and picks up his phone. Soon, everyone is evacuated from the building, yelling, whispering, wondering what the hell is going on. They're confused, and scared. Adam returns with the supplies, and we help him bring them in. I look to see that he's carrying a small bomb.
"Why is he carrying a bomb?" I ask rhetorically. Daren rolls his eyes.
"So we can have a tea party, Daniel," he drawls sarcastically. "Yeah, 'cause that makes sense."
"Why are you being so-"
"Boys!" Madeline yells. "N-Now is n-not th-the time." We stop bickering, and we set everything up. For some reason we have climbing gear with us. I'm not sure if I want to know. Daren opens the elevator and Adam places the bomb inside. Daren punches in the combination to make the elevator go down, and then exits the elevator. The door closes.
"What are you doing?" I ask nervously.
"This might be a really, really stupid idea," he admits, not making me feel any better, "but I'm going to blow up the bottom of the elevator shaft. That way, we can get in there by climbing down the shaft." I turn towards the climbing gear, understanding now.
"That's probably crazy enough to work," I admit grudgingly.
"I set the timer for about the time it should take for the bomb to reach the drop-off floor. Which should be right about...now." Right as he says the word 'now,' I can hear an explosion from floors beneath us, and Madeline lets out a little 'eep' sound as the floor shakes a bit.
"Should we really be standing here?" Adam inquires, looking scared.
"It's fine," Daren replies, and picks up a crowbar and wrenches the elevator door open. "Come on. Let's get climbing, shall we?"
He straps me into a harness, and the three of us plus Adam eventually make it down to Headquarters. It's probably the strangest, most surreal, most something-out-of-fiction thing I've ever done. I don't really feel like describing it, because it's pretty strange. I see the elevator door blasted off its hinges, and horror dawns on me as I see several of our own men lying dead from the blast. I turn towards Daren, bile rising in my throat, and his face falls infinitely.
"You mean," I seethe, "that you never considered...that SOME OF OUR OWN MEN COULD BE OVER HERE?"
"How the hell was I supposed to know? Adam made it sound like they'd taken control completely!"
"I thought they did!" Adam whimpers, horrified.
There's the click of a gun, and Adrian Key chuckles at us. "Yeah, thanks for that. You really helped us out there. I'm beginning to think the lot of you just want us to win. You're not even putting up a fight."
He fires, and we scatter. "Find the others!" Daren yells, and I run down a hallway, the battle anew. I run straight into Astrid.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demands.
"Following your orders!" I retort.
"More of them came in after the initial six did," she explains. "We've had our hands full. I'm sorry, okay? Just help me out here."
The first Prophet agents I've seen since we got out of Aamor's trap appear, and Astrid turns and raises her gun, firing rapidly. They fall over, and I turn to her. "Do you really need my help?"
"I have my limits," she growls. "Randall Quinn is protecting the data room, he thinks they might try to go after something in there. Malcolm and Elijah are running around, helping where they can. Where's the rest of your team?"
"Fighting," I respond easily. "Except for Adamaris. He got injured badly."
She nods. "Trueman's leading them now. We need to prevent them from escaping. Come on." We both start running, shots narrowly missing me. I turn back and fire, to find that I'm out of bullets in my clip. I hastily reload, and two men come after me. Astrid rolls her eyes and kills them without even blinking, before I can even fire my first shot. In the main hall, there's a giant firefight going on, and I can see Malcolm and Elijah shooting at the enemy. A shot is fired and Astrid cries out in pain. I turn to see Joseph Slater approaching us, gun raised at us.
"Hello again, Daniel," he says calmly.
"Go to hell!" I shout furiously, and fire at him. He fires back, and I duck behind a water cooler. His next shot bursts the water cooler, splashing water all over me. Astrid limps away from him, he's about to kill her. I fire at him, but miss, and his attention is once again back to me. He reloads and fires again, and this time I'm hit. Fire spreads throughout my leg and I fall to the ground. Astrid jumps on top of him and drags him to the floor, kicking his gun away from him. He knocks her out and runs, not even bothering to pick up his gun. I look at Astrid, and decide to get her out of the way. I drag her to a closet out of the way and leave her there. I don't know medicine, never have.
I leap down the stairs and join the firefight in the main area. Malcolm acknowledges my presence with a brief nod before continuing to fire. I glance at our opposition and see among them my brother, Katherine, and Adrian. One of the corridors opens and I see a figure emerge from it, but a shot forces me to back away before I can see any more. Then, something happens.
"STOP!" Trueman's voice rings throughout the room. I look up to see that he's holding a gun to Adam's head. "We don't have to slaughter each other. Today, at least. So tell me, Malcolm. Are you willing to lose even one of your men when they could be saved. Let us go free, all of us, out of this mudhole. You can relocate, and we can play hide and seek again. If not...well, I get to kill this one and then continue slaughtering you all. Your choice, Malcolm."
Malcolm turns to the rest of us, looking uncertain. "What are you going to do?" I whisper.
"I don't want to let them leave," Malcolm says. "But...I don't want them to kill Adam. I've...grown fond of him."
"I'm getting bored here!" Trueman yells. "Hurry it up, my trigger finger is getting very itchy!"
"Leave!" Malcolm yells, and Trueman smiles. He shoves Adam forward.
"Thank God! Thank God!" I hear him whimper, and he crawls away from Trueman, his lip bloodied. The Prophet agents start climbing the elevator shaft, and it's unnaturally quiet as they leave. Several of our men seem to want to shoot them, but Malcolm makes them hold their end of the deal. Soon, all of them are gone but Trueman, who waves goodbye to all of our men.
"See you soon!" he exclaims cheerfully, and climbs into the elevator shaft. It's total silence now, just whispers. Malcolm sighs and slumps down.
"Well," he says sadly, a mourning expression on his face, "it looks like we can't stay here."
Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
I received some inspiration for some of the plot of the story and some of the characters from music. I'm wondering if just for fun I should post them, just to see.
Chapter 20
Trueman's breathing began to quicken, his heart began to beat more quickly. It had been a while since he'd been in Control, at the helm of Prophet. Soon, the final stages of the plan would be put into motion. It was unfortunate that Malcolm had to be his enemy. Unfortunately, Trueman considered him near-sighted and a fool, and would most likely not even consider working together towards a common goal. Theo Malik and Grant Aamor materialized beside him.
"Good to have you back sir," Aamor exclaimed, a fake grin on his face. The man always tried sucking up to Trueman. Truthfully, Trueman only kept him around because he was an amusing specimen. Plus, it was fun to toy with him.
"I'm pretty sure you don't think that," Malik retorted, "you were really getting into the whole 'in charge' thing, weren't you?"
"Yeah, because you're so loyal," Aamor hissed, and the two rivals growled at each other. Trueman sighed and touched a hand to his forehead before raising his cane up towards both of them.
"It's a pleasure to see you two...um, gentlemen," Trueman stated faux-politely, though Malik could notice a slight scrunching of the eyebrows their boss did when he was annoyed or angry. "But if you don't shut up in the next five seconds, I'm going to electrocute you both."
"You wouldn't," Malik sneered, a self-assured smirk on his face. "I'm too valuable. But you can go right ahead and kill him, he's worthless."
Trueman flicked the switch on his cane, and the end of it lit up with electricity. Malik and Aamor stopped their bickering rather quickly after that. The boss's face lit up in a polite yet menacing smile. "I assume we're clear now."
"Yes sir," the two men said at the same time, and Trueman shooed them away, and his fingers tightened around the file in his hands. He glanced around curiously at his domain. Steven Gardner and Natalie Hunt were yelling at each other, while an emissary from the West Coast Prophet facility entered Control. Isabelle West and Katherine Davidson sparred. Joseph Slater didn't like staying here. He'd vanished off the face of the earth in public media, but that was mainly chalked down to his supposed early retirement. His house, overlooking the ocean, was heavily guarded and heavily cloaked from scanners. Slater preferred to spend his time in the luxury of his own home as opposed to Control. Trueman couldn't honestly blame him.
He walked briskly past his compatriots, seeing the workings of his organization in motion. He could hear people yelling about another pod that was going to land in Virginia. He opened the door to his office and slammed it shut, leaning back against it and taking a deep breath. He was human, after all. The stress of operating Prophet was actually part of the reason he'd chosen to engage in Operation Moron. To get away from it all, to actually feel like he was in charge of the situation. In all honesty, sometimes he wasn't sure he was. His office was just the same as he remembered it, sleek, shiny, and elegant. He placed his cane down, and lounged in his chair, stroking what was once a beard.
He placed the file labeled Prometheus on the desk, and spread it out, all the pictures, all the reports. He examined the poem Prometheus had sent Malcolm right before his defection. Why he would do such a thing was beyond him. Why would Prometheus do that, create yet another challenge for them? He looked over everything aggressively, trying to find a pattern, anything that could determine Prometheus's location. He pored it over, the day slipping by and thunder crackling in the distance. Finally, it clicked inside his mind, the peices falling into place, and he smiled. It was so simple, really.
"Sir."
Damien Byrne stepped into the room, hands behind his back, and Trueman looked up. "Damien. A pleasure. It's been too long, what with both of us having been locked up. What can I do for you?"
"We have important news," Damien reported coldly, stepping forward. "The rate that the pods are coming down is increasing. I think that it's happening."
Trueman stood, pressing his hands on the desk as he did so. "Yes," he replied softly. "Yes it is. Damien, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, sir," Damien replied with a reverence in his voice.
"If the time comes..." Trueman hesitated, picking up his cane. "I want you to wipe out Malcolm. Your brother. Quinn. Kill them all. I've been toying around with them for too long. I don't want them dragged into this, so just kill them."
"Sir, what's going on?" Byrne stated coldly as Trueman walked towards the door.
Trueman stopped in his tracks and smirked to himself, not looking at his colleague. "I've found Prometheus."
***
Malcolm pulls me over to the side. We're all packing up and getting the hell out of here. Prophet knows we're here and could strike at any moment if we don't. Moving this many people is a bit of a challenge, but Quinn has redirected the police away from the scene. That's good. Malcolm sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder. I can hear everyone calling to each other, taking down everything that made us anything. It's a little sad to leave here now. It was my home for only a few months, but I will miss it.
"Malcolm, what's going on?" I inquire tentatively.
"Daniel," he sighs, "Trueman stole all of our information on Prometheus. Several hours after I'd made the connection, and was preparing to send a team to find him."
"What? You found Prometheus? And you didn't tell us?"
"You were kind of preoccupied at the time," Malcolm replies, and I nod, understanding.
"So how did you find him?"
"His most recent appearance, when viewed with the rest of the times we've seen him on a map, makes a perfect 'X.' The center is located in Pennsylvania. We have the exact location here. I...don't want...to see him."
"Why?"
He scratches the back of his neck, looking quite uncomfortable. "Prometheus...I know nothing about him, but by talking to me and making me leave Prophet, he set this whole war in motion."
"Do you really think we're at war?" I ask weakly.
He nods fiercely. "Of course. Look at what they've done. To all of us. Can you really call this anything less than war, Daniel?" As he continues speaking, his voice gets louder and more angry, and yet frustrated. It's quiet for a bit, then I finally break the silence.
"Should I go to the location, sir?"
"Yes," he replies, looking out of his league for the first time. "...yes. Bring your team. We managed to steal some more effective healing technology from Prophet. At least something came out of our fight with them. Go. Adamaris should be ready to fight by now." He slips a piece of paper into my pocket.
I walk away from Malcolm. He seems more desperate than he was before. Why didn't Prophet just wipe us off the map? And an even better question, what the hell are they even trying to accomplish? Adamaris, now fully healed, hangs around near Madeline and Daren.
"What's going on?" Adamaris asks, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.
I sigh. I do not feel ready. I do not feel determined enough to take on Prophet. Only apathy now. Why am I fighting? Why am I here? "Malcolm wants us to find Prometheus. We believe we know the location."
"Can I come?" Adam asks gently, popping out of nowhere. "Sorry, sorry, just feeling kind of guilty right now..." His voice gets quicker and quicker as he goes along. "...well, not kind of guilty, really guilty, I was just standing around in the lobby while my friends got slaughtered, and I couldn't do anything! It was terrible, just like when I was back with Prophet, th-they would torture my fr-friends, and...and...and..."
Madeline looks extremely uncomfortable, while Daren is forcibly looking away. Adam quivers, and starts shaking, tears streaming down his face. Adamaris comforts him, telling him that not many people had been lost, and that it wasn't his fault. It is a decidedly somber mood as the five of us enter the car, looking at the office building behind us which looks so clean, so undamaged. And yet people avoid it, police ask questions that they will never get answers to. They will never know what happened here. Are we the masters of this red tape? Why are we doing this? I remember what Natalie Hunt had said, something about Bartholomew Trueman having created Prophet for noble goals. I suppose that that didn't turn out too well.
I pull out the slip of paper that Malcolm had given me, with an address on it. I punch in the address onto the GPS, and we sit in silence for a long time, about an hour. I hear the occasional quiver or whimper from the back, in the rear view mirror I see both Madeline and Adam looking upset. Daren is silent, sitting in the backseat and staring endlessly out the window. This is miserable. This fight is miserable. I was tortured by a madman, forced to stay away from my father and my daughter, shot on a regular basis, and had to fight my own brother, the same brother I'd grown up with, played with, never with any clue that the boy sitting next to me picking his nose would grow up to be a murdering lunatic!
"Daniel?" Adamaris almost whimpers, sounding weak and timid for the first time I've known him.
"Adamaris? Are you...okay?"
"Of course he's not!" Daren sneers from the backseat, and Madeline shushes him, while Adam's arms shake and his lip quivers.
My friend closes his eyes and breathes in and out deeply, as if expunging himself of something, a curse. "That place was my home for years. And now we have to leave. Probably for good."
"I know..." I sigh, clutching my hands on the steering wheel. According to the GPS screen, the estimated time of arrival is five minutes. "We...we can get them back for it," I try to sound encouraging, but my voice is weak and tired. The final five minutes of the ride is spent in silence. We've arrived, and I pull the car over to park on the side of the street. An old brick building, with weeds growing out of the sides. The five of us enter. I keep my hand on my gun, and I'm sure everyone else is doing so as well. A large, open room, with dusty light streaming through. And in the middle stands a man I'd seen once before, and his placid eyes widen when he sees us.
"You're not supposed to be here," Prometheus says, with the slightest hint of shock to his tone, his hands loose at his side. On the table next to him is a notebook.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Daren growls sarcastically, and raises his gun. "Are you Prometheus?"
"That I am, that I am," he replies impatiently, and immediately the rest of us except for Adam raise our guns at him.
"Okay, in that case, tell us everything you know," Adamaris says calmly, no visible expression on his face. Prometheus simply tilts his head, as if imminent death doesn't concern him.
"You won't kill me. I know everything there is to know, Adamaris. And I'm sorry. To all of you."
"W-why are y-you sorry?" Madeline demands.
He smiles, as if talking to a child who just asked a cute and amusing question. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And I don't want to. I was actually expecting Marcus Trueman."
"We're not that incompetent," Daren sneers. "Tell us everything, or I'll shoot you in the leg."
"Then you'd have to carry me out of here."
"Okay, the arm."
"Better." He smiles kindly. "Unfortunately, I have no intent to go with you. This...you coming here...that was not foreseen. It does not fit with what I expected, so if that's the case..." He starts talking to himself, staring off into space. He makes emphatic gestures with his hands, and I clear my throat.
"You were saying?"
"Sorry, sorry. You can take this opportunity to set up a trap for Trueman if you want. I...need time to think."
"You honestly expect us to let you go free?" Daren snarls angrily, and Prometheus turns to him.
"Yes." Prometheus drops something out of his sleeve, and there's a loud bang, and my vision blurs. Ringing in my ears, I stumble around. After a while, I come to my senses, as do my team.
"W-what happened?" Madeline slurs.
"Flashbang," Adamaris says, wincing. "Dammit. He's probably long gone by now."
I curse quietly. "Well, he was right about one thing. Trueman should be here soon. We should set up a trap."
Over the next half hour, the five of us get into position. Adam goes out to the car, saying that he doesn't think he's going to be of any use for this. He's probably right.
"He should be here by now," Adamaris whispers. "Where is he?"
As if to answer him, the door opens, and we quiet immediately. Trueman's footsteps are loud and clipped. His voice rings out, echoing off the walls. "Prometheus! You can come out now! I must say, I do have some questions for you. Some you know, minor ones like who the hell are you? You know, that kind of thing."
I ready my gun, and I turn to my team, who are crouched throughout the warehouse. Trueman continues talking. "I mean, come on. You wanted me to get this far, right?" Adamaris nods silently, and simultaneously the four of us stand up and raise our guns at him. Trueman's mouth drops open slightly before he regains his composure.
"Well, s***."
He starts sprinting, which looks very uncomfortable in his suit and jacket. With those sleek dress shoes too. Adamaris shoots him in the leg and cries out in pain, stumbling. Daren gets to him, and is about to knock him out cold with his gun when Trueman activates his electric cane and shocks him.
"Take him alive!" Madeline yells, and shoots Trueman in the other leg.
"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM WITH MY LEGS?" he howls, and starts firing back. Daren lies unconscious at his feet, and Trueman flees, exiting quickly. I curse silently again, and run over to Daren.
"Are you okay?" Adamaris asks, and Daren groans in response, steaming.
"A-are you?" Madeline whimpers.
Daren chuckles weakly, a strained yet smug smile on his face. He holds up a transmitter, a red dot pulsing on that.
"What is that?" I ask.
"I bugged him," he says, looking very self-satisfied. "You going to thank me or not?"
Chapter 20
Trueman's breathing began to quicken, his heart began to beat more quickly. It had been a while since he'd been in Control, at the helm of Prophet. Soon, the final stages of the plan would be put into motion. It was unfortunate that Malcolm had to be his enemy. Unfortunately, Trueman considered him near-sighted and a fool, and would most likely not even consider working together towards a common goal. Theo Malik and Grant Aamor materialized beside him.
"Good to have you back sir," Aamor exclaimed, a fake grin on his face. The man always tried sucking up to Trueman. Truthfully, Trueman only kept him around because he was an amusing specimen. Plus, it was fun to toy with him.
"I'm pretty sure you don't think that," Malik retorted, "you were really getting into the whole 'in charge' thing, weren't you?"
"Yeah, because you're so loyal," Aamor hissed, and the two rivals growled at each other. Trueman sighed and touched a hand to his forehead before raising his cane up towards both of them.
"It's a pleasure to see you two...um, gentlemen," Trueman stated faux-politely, though Malik could notice a slight scrunching of the eyebrows their boss did when he was annoyed or angry. "But if you don't shut up in the next five seconds, I'm going to electrocute you both."
"You wouldn't," Malik sneered, a self-assured smirk on his face. "I'm too valuable. But you can go right ahead and kill him, he's worthless."
Trueman flicked the switch on his cane, and the end of it lit up with electricity. Malik and Aamor stopped their bickering rather quickly after that. The boss's face lit up in a polite yet menacing smile. "I assume we're clear now."
"Yes sir," the two men said at the same time, and Trueman shooed them away, and his fingers tightened around the file in his hands. He glanced around curiously at his domain. Steven Gardner and Natalie Hunt were yelling at each other, while an emissary from the West Coast Prophet facility entered Control. Isabelle West and Katherine Davidson sparred. Joseph Slater didn't like staying here. He'd vanished off the face of the earth in public media, but that was mainly chalked down to his supposed early retirement. His house, overlooking the ocean, was heavily guarded and heavily cloaked from scanners. Slater preferred to spend his time in the luxury of his own home as opposed to Control. Trueman couldn't honestly blame him.
He walked briskly past his compatriots, seeing the workings of his organization in motion. He could hear people yelling about another pod that was going to land in Virginia. He opened the door to his office and slammed it shut, leaning back against it and taking a deep breath. He was human, after all. The stress of operating Prophet was actually part of the reason he'd chosen to engage in Operation Moron. To get away from it all, to actually feel like he was in charge of the situation. In all honesty, sometimes he wasn't sure he was. His office was just the same as he remembered it, sleek, shiny, and elegant. He placed his cane down, and lounged in his chair, stroking what was once a beard.
He placed the file labeled Prometheus on the desk, and spread it out, all the pictures, all the reports. He examined the poem Prometheus had sent Malcolm right before his defection. Why he would do such a thing was beyond him. Why would Prometheus do that, create yet another challenge for them? He looked over everything aggressively, trying to find a pattern, anything that could determine Prometheus's location. He pored it over, the day slipping by and thunder crackling in the distance. Finally, it clicked inside his mind, the peices falling into place, and he smiled. It was so simple, really.
"Sir."
Damien Byrne stepped into the room, hands behind his back, and Trueman looked up. "Damien. A pleasure. It's been too long, what with both of us having been locked up. What can I do for you?"
"We have important news," Damien reported coldly, stepping forward. "The rate that the pods are coming down is increasing. I think that it's happening."
Trueman stood, pressing his hands on the desk as he did so. "Yes," he replied softly. "Yes it is. Damien, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, sir," Damien replied with a reverence in his voice.
"If the time comes..." Trueman hesitated, picking up his cane. "I want you to wipe out Malcolm. Your brother. Quinn. Kill them all. I've been toying around with them for too long. I don't want them dragged into this, so just kill them."
"Sir, what's going on?" Byrne stated coldly as Trueman walked towards the door.
Trueman stopped in his tracks and smirked to himself, not looking at his colleague. "I've found Prometheus."
***
Malcolm pulls me over to the side. We're all packing up and getting the hell out of here. Prophet knows we're here and could strike at any moment if we don't. Moving this many people is a bit of a challenge, but Quinn has redirected the police away from the scene. That's good. Malcolm sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder. I can hear everyone calling to each other, taking down everything that made us anything. It's a little sad to leave here now. It was my home for only a few months, but I will miss it.
"Malcolm, what's going on?" I inquire tentatively.
"Daniel," he sighs, "Trueman stole all of our information on Prometheus. Several hours after I'd made the connection, and was preparing to send a team to find him."
"What? You found Prometheus? And you didn't tell us?"
"You were kind of preoccupied at the time," Malcolm replies, and I nod, understanding.
"So how did you find him?"
"His most recent appearance, when viewed with the rest of the times we've seen him on a map, makes a perfect 'X.' The center is located in Pennsylvania. We have the exact location here. I...don't want...to see him."
"Why?"
He scratches the back of his neck, looking quite uncomfortable. "Prometheus...I know nothing about him, but by talking to me and making me leave Prophet, he set this whole war in motion."
"Do you really think we're at war?" I ask weakly.
He nods fiercely. "Of course. Look at what they've done. To all of us. Can you really call this anything less than war, Daniel?" As he continues speaking, his voice gets louder and more angry, and yet frustrated. It's quiet for a bit, then I finally break the silence.
"Should I go to the location, sir?"
"Yes," he replies, looking out of his league for the first time. "...yes. Bring your team. We managed to steal some more effective healing technology from Prophet. At least something came out of our fight with them. Go. Adamaris should be ready to fight by now." He slips a piece of paper into my pocket.
I walk away from Malcolm. He seems more desperate than he was before. Why didn't Prophet just wipe us off the map? And an even better question, what the hell are they even trying to accomplish? Adamaris, now fully healed, hangs around near Madeline and Daren.
"What's going on?" Adamaris asks, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.
I sigh. I do not feel ready. I do not feel determined enough to take on Prophet. Only apathy now. Why am I fighting? Why am I here? "Malcolm wants us to find Prometheus. We believe we know the location."
"Can I come?" Adam asks gently, popping out of nowhere. "Sorry, sorry, just feeling kind of guilty right now..." His voice gets quicker and quicker as he goes along. "...well, not kind of guilty, really guilty, I was just standing around in the lobby while my friends got slaughtered, and I couldn't do anything! It was terrible, just like when I was back with Prophet, th-they would torture my fr-friends, and...and...and..."
Madeline looks extremely uncomfortable, while Daren is forcibly looking away. Adam quivers, and starts shaking, tears streaming down his face. Adamaris comforts him, telling him that not many people had been lost, and that it wasn't his fault. It is a decidedly somber mood as the five of us enter the car, looking at the office building behind us which looks so clean, so undamaged. And yet people avoid it, police ask questions that they will never get answers to. They will never know what happened here. Are we the masters of this red tape? Why are we doing this? I remember what Natalie Hunt had said, something about Bartholomew Trueman having created Prophet for noble goals. I suppose that that didn't turn out too well.
I pull out the slip of paper that Malcolm had given me, with an address on it. I punch in the address onto the GPS, and we sit in silence for a long time, about an hour. I hear the occasional quiver or whimper from the back, in the rear view mirror I see both Madeline and Adam looking upset. Daren is silent, sitting in the backseat and staring endlessly out the window. This is miserable. This fight is miserable. I was tortured by a madman, forced to stay away from my father and my daughter, shot on a regular basis, and had to fight my own brother, the same brother I'd grown up with, played with, never with any clue that the boy sitting next to me picking his nose would grow up to be a murdering lunatic!
"Daniel?" Adamaris almost whimpers, sounding weak and timid for the first time I've known him.
"Adamaris? Are you...okay?"
"Of course he's not!" Daren sneers from the backseat, and Madeline shushes him, while Adam's arms shake and his lip quivers.
My friend closes his eyes and breathes in and out deeply, as if expunging himself of something, a curse. "That place was my home for years. And now we have to leave. Probably for good."
"I know..." I sigh, clutching my hands on the steering wheel. According to the GPS screen, the estimated time of arrival is five minutes. "We...we can get them back for it," I try to sound encouraging, but my voice is weak and tired. The final five minutes of the ride is spent in silence. We've arrived, and I pull the car over to park on the side of the street. An old brick building, with weeds growing out of the sides. The five of us enter. I keep my hand on my gun, and I'm sure everyone else is doing so as well. A large, open room, with dusty light streaming through. And in the middle stands a man I'd seen once before, and his placid eyes widen when he sees us.
"You're not supposed to be here," Prometheus says, with the slightest hint of shock to his tone, his hands loose at his side. On the table next to him is a notebook.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Daren growls sarcastically, and raises his gun. "Are you Prometheus?"
"That I am, that I am," he replies impatiently, and immediately the rest of us except for Adam raise our guns at him.
"Okay, in that case, tell us everything you know," Adamaris says calmly, no visible expression on his face. Prometheus simply tilts his head, as if imminent death doesn't concern him.
"You won't kill me. I know everything there is to know, Adamaris. And I'm sorry. To all of you."
"W-why are y-you sorry?" Madeline demands.
He smiles, as if talking to a child who just asked a cute and amusing question. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And I don't want to. I was actually expecting Marcus Trueman."
"We're not that incompetent," Daren sneers. "Tell us everything, or I'll shoot you in the leg."
"Then you'd have to carry me out of here."
"Okay, the arm."
"Better." He smiles kindly. "Unfortunately, I have no intent to go with you. This...you coming here...that was not foreseen. It does not fit with what I expected, so if that's the case..." He starts talking to himself, staring off into space. He makes emphatic gestures with his hands, and I clear my throat.
"You were saying?"
"Sorry, sorry. You can take this opportunity to set up a trap for Trueman if you want. I...need time to think."
"You honestly expect us to let you go free?" Daren snarls angrily, and Prometheus turns to him.
"Yes." Prometheus drops something out of his sleeve, and there's a loud bang, and my vision blurs. Ringing in my ears, I stumble around. After a while, I come to my senses, as do my team.
"W-what happened?" Madeline slurs.
"Flashbang," Adamaris says, wincing. "Dammit. He's probably long gone by now."
I curse quietly. "Well, he was right about one thing. Trueman should be here soon. We should set up a trap."
Over the next half hour, the five of us get into position. Adam goes out to the car, saying that he doesn't think he's going to be of any use for this. He's probably right.
"He should be here by now," Adamaris whispers. "Where is he?"
As if to answer him, the door opens, and we quiet immediately. Trueman's footsteps are loud and clipped. His voice rings out, echoing off the walls. "Prometheus! You can come out now! I must say, I do have some questions for you. Some you know, minor ones like who the hell are you? You know, that kind of thing."
I ready my gun, and I turn to my team, who are crouched throughout the warehouse. Trueman continues talking. "I mean, come on. You wanted me to get this far, right?" Adamaris nods silently, and simultaneously the four of us stand up and raise our guns at him. Trueman's mouth drops open slightly before he regains his composure.
"Well, s***."
He starts sprinting, which looks very uncomfortable in his suit and jacket. With those sleek dress shoes too. Adamaris shoots him in the leg and cries out in pain, stumbling. Daren gets to him, and is about to knock him out cold with his gun when Trueman activates his electric cane and shocks him.
"Take him alive!" Madeline yells, and shoots Trueman in the other leg.
"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM WITH MY LEGS?" he howls, and starts firing back. Daren lies unconscious at his feet, and Trueman flees, exiting quickly. I curse silently again, and run over to Daren.
"Are you okay?" Adamaris asks, and Daren groans in response, steaming.
"A-are you?" Madeline whimpers.
Daren chuckles weakly, a strained yet smug smile on his face. He holds up a transmitter, a red dot pulsing on that.
"What is that?" I ask.
"I bugged him," he says, looking very self-satisfied. "You going to thank me or not?"
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Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
Chapter 21
"You know, they actually got pretty close with that tracking device. I personally was impressed."
Three Prophet agents, Joseph Slater, Theo Malik, and Grant Aamor lounged peacefully, having their usual breakfasts. The agent who had been impressed was Mr. Slater, interestingly enough.
"I was out, what happened exactly?" Aamor asked, an unusual calm in his words, no disdain or superiority in his tone whatsoever. He snarfed down a piece of sausage.
"Idiot," Malik sneered condescendingly. The scientist and torturer took a sip of coffee before continuing. "Marcus was out, they put a bug on him. Fortunately, I have a little...friend who helped me out. I warned him, he disposed of it before he got back to Control. End of story."
"Can you two not fight right now?" Slater commented casually, leaning back and taking a sip of his latte while Aamor's mask of calm fractured into a growl directed towards Malik. "Really don't care, and I don't want to see a...valued companion die." He repressed a smile as he viewed Aamor's ugly features and condescending attitude, and then Malik's thin frame, twitching eye and bloodstained shirt. In all honesty, Slater would be glad to kill the two men sitting next to him. And he knew that they probably felt the exact same way.
Aamor scoffed. "Valued companion, Joe? Erm, no. Just, no."
Malik probably would've responded to Aamor if he hadn't been tearing apart his breakfast like a savage animal. He snarfed it down, food dripping from his mouth and his hands greasy. Slater and Aamor both scooted away from the murderer, who finished his meal by wiping his mouth on his sleeve and taking a deep breath, smiling creepily. They didn't usually eat with Malik. The scientist usually preferred to eat on the job, a habit which befuddled and disgusted the majority of his acquaintances. He was only here because he had literally nothing to be working on at the moment. He smiled hellishly at them before exiting the room. Aamor and Slater finished the rest of their meals with almost total silence, and then left the room.
"Do you get the feeling that things are going to be speeding up around here?" Slater inquired, seemingly nonchalant. But that was a facade. He always asked Aamor what he knew, trying to know everything. Slater usually remained in his house when he was off-duty as opposed to staying in Control. He was only here for breakfast due to the fact that Randall Quinn had exposed him as a criminal, and so he was forced to flee. Fortunately, not even the government knew where he lived, thanks to Malik's little friend. Well, "friend" was a misnomer in this case.
"I do," Aamor replied. "We've spent too much time dealing with Malcolm and his traveling flea circus. We've made a major step, despite some complications. I'm not exactly supposed to tell you this, but-"
Aamor was cut off by the sounds of screaming and a gunshot. The keening, wailing siren filled their ears as a pale, frantic, unkempt man sprinted down the hallway towards them. Slater instinctively reached for his gun to find that it was not there. He cursed. They heard the voice of Adrian Key come over the loudspeaker. "Attention, we have a deserter, Patrick Jameson. Agh! He's...shot me...he is trying to escape...stop him at all...costs."
Aamor hurriedly attempted to seal the door with his own weight, but was easily knocked aside by Jameson. "Freeze!" he commanded Slater, sounding terrified. His gun shook in his hands, and his eyes were widened and bloodshot. "Freeze, or I'll shoot! P-Put your hands in the air!" Slater looked around hesitantly before raising his hands in the air. The other Prophet agents in the hall, all of them caught off guard due to it being their breakfast time, also surrendered. Jameson looked desperate, and desperate men did desperate things. "I WILL hurt you if you don't do exactly as I say! P-Put your weap-pons on the ground!" Aamor did so, looking even more squished than usual.
"Hello, Jameson," Slater said casually. "There any particular reason you're doing this?"
"You're insane," the haunted man whimpered, "you're ALL insane! I served faithfully, p-probably longer than I should have! A-a-and I've seen things...how the HELL can we still say we're d-doing the right thing?" He jerked his head quickly, looking around at all the nearby, submissive agents. "P-put your hands against the wall! AND STAY THERE! I'M OUT! I'VE BEEN SCARED FOR TOO LONG, BUT NOT TODAY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Slater hurriedly placed his hands on the wall, not wanting to see what the broken man might do if he didn't. He glanced over and saw Theo Malik skulking in the shadows, and he mouthed to him for help. There was no response.
"Do you really want to do this?" Slater asked, sounding concerned. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jameson backing away, still with his gun pointed at the Prophet agents.
"I don't want to work for you p-people anymore! You're monsters!" he choked out, moving towards the elevator, the gun shaking vigorously. "You lie, cheat, steal, murder, and mutliate, and for what?"
"Patrick," Aamor groaned, hands against the wall.
"Nothing!"
"You didn't pass the trials yet," Aamor sighed.
"I'm not going to stand for it anymore! You can find me, kill me, I don't care. As...as long as I don't help this MONSTROSITY ANYMORE!" Malik stepped out of the shadows, and as Jameson's eyes found him his already enlarged eyes widened, but the stare was quickly diverted to the knife that was now implanted in his stomach. A gasp escaped his mouth as he sank to his knees. Malik slipped towards him and knelt behind him, whispering something in his ear. Then, he snapped the poor man's neck. Jameson crumpled to the floor, blood pouring out of the wound into a crimson circle around him. Malik looked around at the other Prophet agents who were shaking themselves off from the ordeal.
"Well?" he asked faux-casually. "Get back to work!" He skulked off, and the usual life in Control resumed. Aamor and Slater stood over the bloodied corpse that five minutes ago had been a man, sighing. "I knew him," Aamor sighed, shaking his head. "Had a lot of promise. A pity, a pity." Slater shrugged and walked away from the body, to find that his phone was buzzing. He picked it up and examined the message on the screen.
Come see me ASAP.
-MT
Slater placed his phone inside his pocket and entered the elevator. Soon, he opened the door to Marcus Trueman's office. Clean, articulate, and orderly. A direct contrast to how well Prophet was running at the moment. Trueman stood at the window, overlooking Boston, Massachusetts, with his cane held behind his back. "Sit down, Joseph," his boss requested softly, not looking at him. Slater sat down, slightly nervous. Aamor was generally Marcus's mouth, so if Trueman was asking to see Slater personally, something was up.
"What's going on?" Slater inquired cautiously, twiddling his thumbs. Trueman turned around and fell into his chair, tapping his cane against the floor.
"I was visited by Prometheus today, Joseph."
Slater's eyes widened in surprise. "Weren't you intercepted by Malcolm's men?"
"No, no," Trueman shook his head, "he visited me in this office, and completed the transaction. We have the blueprints, and the pods' contents are being gathered."
"How the hell did he get in here?"
"I don't know," Slater's boss admitted. "He's always been strange like that. You see, the jigsaw is falling into place. The plan that you have been a part of since we found you on the street all those years ago is coming into fruition."
Slater's eyes widened. "It's really happening?" Trueman nodded at him in response.
"Malcolm's defection was unforeseen, and has been a pain in our side for a long time. I've tasked Damien with wiping them out when the time comes, but you...you also have a personal connection with one of Malcolm's men, correct?"
"That would be correct, sir," Slater remarked, unsure as to where this was going. "Why have you called me here?"
Trueman didn't answer his question immediately. "When I ordered you to kill someone for the first time, did you hesitate, Joseph?"
"No, sir-"
"And when I sent you to kill your former mentor and friend, Zachary Stone, did you hesitate?"
"No, sir-"
"And when I've sent you in to ruin powerful opponents' lives, have you every hesitated?"
"No, sir-"
Trueman clapped his hands together. "That is why you are my pick for leader of this assignment. You are cunning, ruthless, and completely loyal."
"What's the assignment, sir?"
Trueman leaned in, face lit up in gleeful anticipation. "I need you to distract them, give us time to complete the machine. But I'm not just talking about some fireworks, a few red herrings. I want you to break them. I want you to render them incapable of moving on, of working together as a team. Assemble all those who have an...experience with Malcolm's men. Break. Their. Spirit."
Slater was silent for a few seconds before responding. He'd remained loyal to Prophet for a long time. He loved the sensation of being in control of the situation, and he was perfectly content with breaking people, and he had done it before. So why was there a slight seed of doubt in his mind? He took a deep breath.
"Yes, sir."
***
"So, dad, it's unfortunate but it's for your own good."
My father nods, picking out a carton of milk and placing it in the shopping cart. I've just finished explaining to him that I'm going to have to leave New York, and him as a result. "I understand, son. You have to fight the good fight, and I respect that. But...call every now and then, okay? I don't want silence."
I smile warmly. "Don't worry, that has no chance of happening." Adamaris is babysitting Elisa back at the house. I'd wanted to talk to my father again, just one last time before I had to go, and Malcolm gave me permission to. We're moving to an above-ground base in Philadelphia, headed by a certain Kyle Gordon. I have no idea what he's like, or how he'll react to having his position taken away from him by Malcolm, or having a couple hundred more people in his Headquarters. I hope he's a decent guy.
"Well," my father sighs, picking up an egg carton, "I'm proud of you son," he says with a warm smile.
"Thanks, dad," I say, and we hug after he puts the eggs in the cart.
"Do your best to get Damien back for me," he murmurs in my ear, and I nod to him as we split apart. The plan is to catch a ferry off of Long Island. We decided to head to Manhattan so he could remember what could be his last trip with me by his side. We check out and we both carry grocery bags as we walk through the crowded city streets.
"How're you adjusting to having a kiddo in the house again?" I ask conversationally.
He laughs. "It takes a bit of getting used to, but I'm enjoying it. She is too, even though she still prefers having you around as opposed to Grandpa. I understand if you can't answer this...but do you know how much longer you're going to be away?"
I shrug sadly. "I have no clue. Could be months, years...I'm just glad that my daughter's getting taken care of. And you are the best father I know."
He smiles at me and puts his arm around my shoulder. "I promise you, Daniel, that once this is all over with, you will be a better father than I ever was. You're a hero, Daniel."
I smile back at him. "Thanks, dad."
"So anyway, where are you going to be positioned? Maybe I could drop by sometime if it's all right with you people?" I don't respond, my eyes searching around, a familiar feeling inside my chest. A sixth sense. Goosebumps travel down my skin, and my father looks at me in concern. "Daniel, are you okay?" I see the figure on the top of the apartment building, and my eyes widen. "Daniel, what's going on?" my father asks, before tripping over another random person. A gunshot rings out among the city and screams echo, and I turn in wide-eyed horror towards my father, who lies, bruised, but not shot. I turn to see a gunshot in the pavement where my father had been standing a couple of seconds ago. People scream and flee, and I turn to my father.
"Run! Get out of here! I'll take care of it!" I yell, and my father nods hurriedly and starts fleeing as much as he can with a bruised leg. I look up to see the figure turning and fleeing. I open the door and quickly climb up the stairs, opening the door to the roof. The would-be assassin jumps from the rooftop we're on to the next building across. I pull out my gun and pursue him, jumping agilely across the gap. The figure is more visible now, and wears a helmet, and dark, tight clothes. I raise my silenced gun and try to fire, but it misses. The assailant starts rushing down the fire escape, and I follow, police sirens now mixed in with the fearful yells. I catch up to the figure and raise my gun.
He turns to me, his face covered, and lunges towards me on the fire escape. We struggle, teetering dangerously on the unstable fire escape. He slams me into the brick wall, and I promptly kick the assailant in the shins. He pulls out a knife, but I quickly send it flying out of his hands and down to the city below. He attempts to fling me off the edge, but fortunately he doesn't seem to be as heavy as I am. I elbow him in the face and promptly slam him into the wall. He slides down, and I raise my gun at him, and remove his mask.
That is when I realize I was wrong about the identity of the assailant. It's a she. She is quite pretty, with long, dark, flowing hair. She appears to be of Spanish descent. I press my gun against her temple. "All right," I demand as threateningly as I possibly can, "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
She smiles calmly, although she's breathing heavily. "My name is Isabelle West," she declares confidently, with the merest hint of a Spanish accent. "I'm Adamaris's ex. Nice to meet you."
***
Okay then, the way this will work is I'll post one inspirational music thingy per chapter, so yeah.
[video=youtube;HX1XXY5-et4]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HX1XXY5-et4[/video]
I consider this to be representative of Prophet. Still not tellin' what they're up to, but maybe it could shed a little bit of light on it...or not. *chuckles sinisterly*
"You know, they actually got pretty close with that tracking device. I personally was impressed."
Three Prophet agents, Joseph Slater, Theo Malik, and Grant Aamor lounged peacefully, having their usual breakfasts. The agent who had been impressed was Mr. Slater, interestingly enough.
"I was out, what happened exactly?" Aamor asked, an unusual calm in his words, no disdain or superiority in his tone whatsoever. He snarfed down a piece of sausage.
"Idiot," Malik sneered condescendingly. The scientist and torturer took a sip of coffee before continuing. "Marcus was out, they put a bug on him. Fortunately, I have a little...friend who helped me out. I warned him, he disposed of it before he got back to Control. End of story."
"Can you two not fight right now?" Slater commented casually, leaning back and taking a sip of his latte while Aamor's mask of calm fractured into a growl directed towards Malik. "Really don't care, and I don't want to see a...valued companion die." He repressed a smile as he viewed Aamor's ugly features and condescending attitude, and then Malik's thin frame, twitching eye and bloodstained shirt. In all honesty, Slater would be glad to kill the two men sitting next to him. And he knew that they probably felt the exact same way.
Aamor scoffed. "Valued companion, Joe? Erm, no. Just, no."
Malik probably would've responded to Aamor if he hadn't been tearing apart his breakfast like a savage animal. He snarfed it down, food dripping from his mouth and his hands greasy. Slater and Aamor both scooted away from the murderer, who finished his meal by wiping his mouth on his sleeve and taking a deep breath, smiling creepily. They didn't usually eat with Malik. The scientist usually preferred to eat on the job, a habit which befuddled and disgusted the majority of his acquaintances. He was only here because he had literally nothing to be working on at the moment. He smiled hellishly at them before exiting the room. Aamor and Slater finished the rest of their meals with almost total silence, and then left the room.
"Do you get the feeling that things are going to be speeding up around here?" Slater inquired, seemingly nonchalant. But that was a facade. He always asked Aamor what he knew, trying to know everything. Slater usually remained in his house when he was off-duty as opposed to staying in Control. He was only here for breakfast due to the fact that Randall Quinn had exposed him as a criminal, and so he was forced to flee. Fortunately, not even the government knew where he lived, thanks to Malik's little friend. Well, "friend" was a misnomer in this case.
"I do," Aamor replied. "We've spent too much time dealing with Malcolm and his traveling flea circus. We've made a major step, despite some complications. I'm not exactly supposed to tell you this, but-"
Aamor was cut off by the sounds of screaming and a gunshot. The keening, wailing siren filled their ears as a pale, frantic, unkempt man sprinted down the hallway towards them. Slater instinctively reached for his gun to find that it was not there. He cursed. They heard the voice of Adrian Key come over the loudspeaker. "Attention, we have a deserter, Patrick Jameson. Agh! He's...shot me...he is trying to escape...stop him at all...costs."
Aamor hurriedly attempted to seal the door with his own weight, but was easily knocked aside by Jameson. "Freeze!" he commanded Slater, sounding terrified. His gun shook in his hands, and his eyes were widened and bloodshot. "Freeze, or I'll shoot! P-Put your hands in the air!" Slater looked around hesitantly before raising his hands in the air. The other Prophet agents in the hall, all of them caught off guard due to it being their breakfast time, also surrendered. Jameson looked desperate, and desperate men did desperate things. "I WILL hurt you if you don't do exactly as I say! P-Put your weap-pons on the ground!" Aamor did so, looking even more squished than usual.
"Hello, Jameson," Slater said casually. "There any particular reason you're doing this?"
"You're insane," the haunted man whimpered, "you're ALL insane! I served faithfully, p-probably longer than I should have! A-a-and I've seen things...how the HELL can we still say we're d-doing the right thing?" He jerked his head quickly, looking around at all the nearby, submissive agents. "P-put your hands against the wall! AND STAY THERE! I'M OUT! I'VE BEEN SCARED FOR TOO LONG, BUT NOT TODAY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Slater hurriedly placed his hands on the wall, not wanting to see what the broken man might do if he didn't. He glanced over and saw Theo Malik skulking in the shadows, and he mouthed to him for help. There was no response.
"Do you really want to do this?" Slater asked, sounding concerned. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jameson backing away, still with his gun pointed at the Prophet agents.
"I don't want to work for you p-people anymore! You're monsters!" he choked out, moving towards the elevator, the gun shaking vigorously. "You lie, cheat, steal, murder, and mutliate, and for what?"
"Patrick," Aamor groaned, hands against the wall.
"Nothing!"
"You didn't pass the trials yet," Aamor sighed.
"I'm not going to stand for it anymore! You can find me, kill me, I don't care. As...as long as I don't help this MONSTROSITY ANYMORE!" Malik stepped out of the shadows, and as Jameson's eyes found him his already enlarged eyes widened, but the stare was quickly diverted to the knife that was now implanted in his stomach. A gasp escaped his mouth as he sank to his knees. Malik slipped towards him and knelt behind him, whispering something in his ear. Then, he snapped the poor man's neck. Jameson crumpled to the floor, blood pouring out of the wound into a crimson circle around him. Malik looked around at the other Prophet agents who were shaking themselves off from the ordeal.
"Well?" he asked faux-casually. "Get back to work!" He skulked off, and the usual life in Control resumed. Aamor and Slater stood over the bloodied corpse that five minutes ago had been a man, sighing. "I knew him," Aamor sighed, shaking his head. "Had a lot of promise. A pity, a pity." Slater shrugged and walked away from the body, to find that his phone was buzzing. He picked it up and examined the message on the screen.
Come see me ASAP.
-MT
Slater placed his phone inside his pocket and entered the elevator. Soon, he opened the door to Marcus Trueman's office. Clean, articulate, and orderly. A direct contrast to how well Prophet was running at the moment. Trueman stood at the window, overlooking Boston, Massachusetts, with his cane held behind his back. "Sit down, Joseph," his boss requested softly, not looking at him. Slater sat down, slightly nervous. Aamor was generally Marcus's mouth, so if Trueman was asking to see Slater personally, something was up.
"What's going on?" Slater inquired cautiously, twiddling his thumbs. Trueman turned around and fell into his chair, tapping his cane against the floor.
"I was visited by Prometheus today, Joseph."
Slater's eyes widened in surprise. "Weren't you intercepted by Malcolm's men?"
"No, no," Trueman shook his head, "he visited me in this office, and completed the transaction. We have the blueprints, and the pods' contents are being gathered."
"How the hell did he get in here?"
"I don't know," Slater's boss admitted. "He's always been strange like that. You see, the jigsaw is falling into place. The plan that you have been a part of since we found you on the street all those years ago is coming into fruition."
Slater's eyes widened. "It's really happening?" Trueman nodded at him in response.
"Malcolm's defection was unforeseen, and has been a pain in our side for a long time. I've tasked Damien with wiping them out when the time comes, but you...you also have a personal connection with one of Malcolm's men, correct?"
"That would be correct, sir," Slater remarked, unsure as to where this was going. "Why have you called me here?"
Trueman didn't answer his question immediately. "When I ordered you to kill someone for the first time, did you hesitate, Joseph?"
"No, sir-"
"And when I sent you to kill your former mentor and friend, Zachary Stone, did you hesitate?"
"No, sir-"
"And when I've sent you in to ruin powerful opponents' lives, have you every hesitated?"
"No, sir-"
Trueman clapped his hands together. "That is why you are my pick for leader of this assignment. You are cunning, ruthless, and completely loyal."
"What's the assignment, sir?"
Trueman leaned in, face lit up in gleeful anticipation. "I need you to distract them, give us time to complete the machine. But I'm not just talking about some fireworks, a few red herrings. I want you to break them. I want you to render them incapable of moving on, of working together as a team. Assemble all those who have an...experience with Malcolm's men. Break. Their. Spirit."
Slater was silent for a few seconds before responding. He'd remained loyal to Prophet for a long time. He loved the sensation of being in control of the situation, and he was perfectly content with breaking people, and he had done it before. So why was there a slight seed of doubt in his mind? He took a deep breath.
"Yes, sir."
***
"So, dad, it's unfortunate but it's for your own good."
My father nods, picking out a carton of milk and placing it in the shopping cart. I've just finished explaining to him that I'm going to have to leave New York, and him as a result. "I understand, son. You have to fight the good fight, and I respect that. But...call every now and then, okay? I don't want silence."
I smile warmly. "Don't worry, that has no chance of happening." Adamaris is babysitting Elisa back at the house. I'd wanted to talk to my father again, just one last time before I had to go, and Malcolm gave me permission to. We're moving to an above-ground base in Philadelphia, headed by a certain Kyle Gordon. I have no idea what he's like, or how he'll react to having his position taken away from him by Malcolm, or having a couple hundred more people in his Headquarters. I hope he's a decent guy.
"Well," my father sighs, picking up an egg carton, "I'm proud of you son," he says with a warm smile.
"Thanks, dad," I say, and we hug after he puts the eggs in the cart.
"Do your best to get Damien back for me," he murmurs in my ear, and I nod to him as we split apart. The plan is to catch a ferry off of Long Island. We decided to head to Manhattan so he could remember what could be his last trip with me by his side. We check out and we both carry grocery bags as we walk through the crowded city streets.
"How're you adjusting to having a kiddo in the house again?" I ask conversationally.
He laughs. "It takes a bit of getting used to, but I'm enjoying it. She is too, even though she still prefers having you around as opposed to Grandpa. I understand if you can't answer this...but do you know how much longer you're going to be away?"
I shrug sadly. "I have no clue. Could be months, years...I'm just glad that my daughter's getting taken care of. And you are the best father I know."
He smiles at me and puts his arm around my shoulder. "I promise you, Daniel, that once this is all over with, you will be a better father than I ever was. You're a hero, Daniel."
I smile back at him. "Thanks, dad."
"So anyway, where are you going to be positioned? Maybe I could drop by sometime if it's all right with you people?" I don't respond, my eyes searching around, a familiar feeling inside my chest. A sixth sense. Goosebumps travel down my skin, and my father looks at me in concern. "Daniel, are you okay?" I see the figure on the top of the apartment building, and my eyes widen. "Daniel, what's going on?" my father asks, before tripping over another random person. A gunshot rings out among the city and screams echo, and I turn in wide-eyed horror towards my father, who lies, bruised, but not shot. I turn to see a gunshot in the pavement where my father had been standing a couple of seconds ago. People scream and flee, and I turn to my father.
"Run! Get out of here! I'll take care of it!" I yell, and my father nods hurriedly and starts fleeing as much as he can with a bruised leg. I look up to see the figure turning and fleeing. I open the door and quickly climb up the stairs, opening the door to the roof. The would-be assassin jumps from the rooftop we're on to the next building across. I pull out my gun and pursue him, jumping agilely across the gap. The figure is more visible now, and wears a helmet, and dark, tight clothes. I raise my silenced gun and try to fire, but it misses. The assailant starts rushing down the fire escape, and I follow, police sirens now mixed in with the fearful yells. I catch up to the figure and raise my gun.
He turns to me, his face covered, and lunges towards me on the fire escape. We struggle, teetering dangerously on the unstable fire escape. He slams me into the brick wall, and I promptly kick the assailant in the shins. He pulls out a knife, but I quickly send it flying out of his hands and down to the city below. He attempts to fling me off the edge, but fortunately he doesn't seem to be as heavy as I am. I elbow him in the face and promptly slam him into the wall. He slides down, and I raise my gun at him, and remove his mask.
That is when I realize I was wrong about the identity of the assailant. It's a she. She is quite pretty, with long, dark, flowing hair. She appears to be of Spanish descent. I press my gun against her temple. "All right," I demand as threateningly as I possibly can, "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
She smiles calmly, although she's breathing heavily. "My name is Isabelle West," she declares confidently, with the merest hint of a Spanish accent. "I'm Adamaris's ex. Nice to meet you."
***
Okay then, the way this will work is I'll post one inspirational music thingy per chapter, so yeah.
[video=youtube;HX1XXY5-et4]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HX1XXY5-et4[/video]
I consider this to be representative of Prophet. Still not tellin' what they're up to, but maybe it could shed a little bit of light on it...or not. *chuckles sinisterly*
Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
Over two-thirds through!
Chapter 22
Adamaris stands by my side as we overlook the new Headquarters. Unlike Malcolm's, it is above ground, and is home to a rival business of AlTech Industries. We haven't met the man in charge, Kyle Gordon, as of yet. It reminds me of the building we tried to take out Slater in, it's elegant, and regular people seem to mill about, living regular lives, seemingly blissfully unaware that very irregular activities are occurring in the same, normal office building. But in actuality, all of them are agents of Malcolm, the illusion of an office building is kept, and it is partially true, Any visitor would not ever travel to the top couple of floors, where all the beds are. I don't really like it as much as our first base. Adamaris has been cold and distant lately, and I don't have rack my brain too much to imagine why. Hell, I don't have to rack my brain at all. We stand silently, leaning against the glass balcony, looking over everything occurring below us.
"So..." I begin warily, my friend still not looking at me. "How are you taking the news?"
"Not well, Daniel," he admits weakly, sounding frail and tired. His weary eyes stray towards the horizon of the setting sun. "When...when is she arriving?"
"She should be here within the hour. Blindfolded, of course. We just lost our first base, we don't want to lose our second. And Adamaris? I know you're angry at her. I wouldn't expect you not to be. Just...don't let it get to your head, okay? I captured her. She's with us now. You can get some answers."
He nods slightly, dark circles under his baggy eyes. I turn away from the balcony, and I see a man who looks like a scarecrow walking towards me, with straw-like blond hair, and is extraordinary tall and skinny. He is very pale-skinned, and wears a black suit with a purple tie. Next to him stands Elijah Sanford, arms crossed and looking morbid as ever. Adamaris turns and nods in acknowledgement of the scarecrow, and he nods back. He extends his hand towards me, and I shake it.
"Kyle Gordon," he introduces himself, sounding smooth and clipped. "Leader..at least, former leader of this facility." He spits out the words with a condescending distaste, which surprises me considering that Malcolm is his boss.
"Charmed," I reply evenly, and we separate our hands. "My name is-"
"I know who you both are," he interrupts rudely, looking like he really doesn't want to be talking. "Daniel Burne, Adamaris Zuniga, yeah yeah, whatever. I'm already filled to the brim with responsibilities, and here we are with what, a hundred more men coming my way that I have to take care of?"
"Just fifty," Elijah growls. "The others have spread out elsewhere. Stop your whining, Gordon."
"I assume there's no animosity here?" Adamaris inquires faux-innocently.
"Hey, isn't your ex en route here as we speak?" Gordon snaps irritably and irritatingly, crossing his arms.
"Would you like me to fetch Malcolm?" Elijah rolls his eyes to heaven, crossing his arms as Adamaris balls his fists.
"I've heard that your team has like a five to one win-loss ratio in missions against Prophet," the scarecrow sneers, stepping closer. "That wouldn't have been tolerated under my command."
Adamaris smiles faux-affably at him, but there's a gleam in his eyes that makes it perfectly clear he'd like nothing more than to push the arrogant prick out a window. And I rather agree with him.
"Excuse me, but is there any particular reason you're in charge?" I ask scathingly, and he rolls his eyes.
"I'm not anymore, genius. Actually, I'm much stronger than I look. Now Malcolm and Astrid have waltzed in here and messed up this little system I've got going, and I'm okay with that."
"Are you?" Elijah asks rudely, and Adamaris chuckles.
"Yes, yes I am. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Malcolm," he says, a sincere look on his face. It changes back into his look of distaste. "But for the rest of you I don't give a sh-"
"That's fantastic," I interrupt, scowling at him.
"Where's your two other teammates, that stuttering girl and that annoying dirtbag?" he asks rudely, leaning casually against the railing, no trace of irony in his voice.
"Bringing in the prisoner," Adamaris states coldly. Right on cue, the doors open and Madeline and Daren walk in, each with a gun inconspicuously pressed on the prisoner between. Adamaris's eyes widen, he struggles to keep his emotions under control. Elijah and Kyle the scarecrow give a small huh of surprise.
"I assume you all would like to be there for the interrogation?" Elijah asks casually, and Adamaris glances around uncertainly, not focusing on anything, before making eye contact with Elijah and nodding. I nod as well.
"Just make it quick. I need to talk to my father about safety. It seems that Prophet is trying to hit us where we hurt," I explain. "I do assume that Malcolm will provide security?"
"Of course," Elijah replies comfortingly, while the scarecrow rolls his eyes and looks away in disdain. "In fact, your father is being escorted here as we speak. You'll explain to him all the security measures we've set up at his house. Let me tell you that it's a lot. In fact, we didn't take any risks and have warned any family members of our members. Malcolm and Astrid are swamped right now, while Randall Quinn, despite my dislike of him, is even more, being high-up in the government and all."
I nod gratefully. "Thank you, Elijah." He nods back, and shrugs.
"Just doing my job."
"Okay, touchy feely time over, can we get a move on? Prisoners to interrogate, after all," Gordon almost whines, and we all nod and enter the elevator. On the ninth floor is the jail. The stairs have no exit on this level, and no elevator can be accessed without a key card. Guards are not supplied with a key card, and shifts are changed by another guard opening it from the inside. Any uprising from the inmates is immediately reported, and backup arrives within minutes. Very professional, very efficient. I see Madeline and Daren hanging around outside one of the cell doors. I glance in through the window to see Isabelle West sitting with perfect posture and looking fantastically unimpressed by her surroundings and predicament.
"Hey," Adamaris greets our teammates, halfheartedly raising his hand.
"Y-You feeling okay?" Madeline asks, sounding wearier than usual.
"Yes," my friend responds weakly. "Yes," he says again with more conviction. "I'm fine. I want to see her."
"Not gonna happen just yet, tiger," the scarecrow grins, cracking his knuckles. "I'm the highest rank out of anyone here. You can have your turn when I'm finished." He flexes his fingers before opening the door to the room. We look through the two-way mirror, and his clean-cut voice is clearly heard through the speakers.
"So," he sneers, sitting down across from West, whose bored expression does not change a bit. "Isabelle West. Prophet agent, operated around the world, went undercover in Spain for six months as the lover of Adamaris Zuniga, in order to get close to a scientist who promptly disappeared from the world a week later, his body surfacing in a back alley in Madrid. Congratulations, slut."
Throughout all this, Adamaris's ex does not move, or change her expression in any way. She blinks once and leans towards Kyle Gordon, her eyes boring into him.
"I have nothing to say to you," she says scornfully.
"Really?" the scarecrow scoffs, tilting his head. "I wasn't aware." He quickly stands up and grabs her head, slamming it into the stone table before drawing it up. "What about now, b****?" he demands angrily, her face now slightly bloodied and bruised, but her expression is still the same.
"I. Have nothing. To say to you," she repeats calmly, although with a little more stress on it than the last time. I turn and look at Adamaris's face, his eyes glassy and his stare not moving, looking paler and tired. Gordon slams her face into the table again, and jerks her back up by her hair.
"HOW ABOUT NOW?"
"I still...have nothing...to say...to you, at least," she grits her teeth.
"To me at least?"
"I'd like to speak...to Adamaris."
Adamaris jerks out of his stupor upon mention of his name. The scarecrow storms over and opens the door, dragging Adamaris in there. The boss of this new Headquarters shuts the door, leaving Adamaris with his mouth gaping and a terrified look in his eyes. I look out at him in sympathy, even though he can't see it thanks to the mirror. He slowly and awkwardly sits down in the chair across from her, looking extremely uncomfortable. Isabelle's heavy breathing slows, and she takes a deep breath before speaking, blood still splattered on her face.
"Do you think of me often?" she asks casually, and I can see a conundrum of emotions twisting around inside Adamaris's brain and on his face. Finally, that blank look resumes to dominate his features.
"Yes," he says simply, and pitifully.
"Good."
"Good?" Adamaris demands, with more conviction, but still sounding like he's about to cry. "Good? That's all you can say to me? You led me along, I thought you were in love with me! I was planning on proposing to you! But all of it was an act...in the end it was all an act...you just wanted the scientist, but you wanted him dead. What's the best way to draw out a reclusive scientist? Woo his close, outgoing, athletic friend! I trusted you, I loved you, and none of it was real!...none of it was real..." A tear slides down his cheek, and Isabelle barely changes her expression. There is no sadistic enjoyment of his pain. There is no remorse. There is no anger. She quirks an eyebrow.
"What you say is all true," she responds casually. "I toyed with your emotions. I wrapped you around my finger. Then when I didn't need you anymore I got rid of you. But you really think you have it bad? Do you really think you deserve revenge? Madeline Black, loses her parents, has to run for her entire life, and loses the closest thing to a brother she ever had. Kyle Gordon, raised to believe the illusion that the world is a perfect place, only to have it all crumble down and everyone he ever cared about dead." At this, Daren, Madeline, and I turn to look at Gordon in some shock, but West continues talking.
"Your leader Malcolm Waters had his sister driven insane. Elijah Sanford lost his wife to Theo Malik. And then, there's you..." Disdain enters her voice. "While everyone else has lost loved ones or has been psychologically scarred, you just had your heart broken by a girl."
His mouth hangs open and his head droops. Tears flow freely down his cheeks. "You...you did..." he whimpers. "My...my question is why? What was the scientist for?"
"He knew about Prophet, and was actively trying to avoid us," she declares proudly. "He'd gathered valuable intelligence on Prometheus. After you left, we hit it off, but he eventually realized that I was Prophet and he destroyed everything. I tortured him for a week. It was too much, so I just disposed of his body and left the country." She says everything calmly and with pride in what she's done, which to me is scarier than the attitudes of other Prophet agents I've seen, the ones who've enjoyed our suffering. She is loyal to the end, and anything she does to further Prophet is something to be proud of. "I know nothing more about him. Would you like to ask another question?" she asks, and coming from the mouth of another Prophet agent, it might have sounded gleeful, but she says it matter-of-factly, as if she doesn't have blood and bruises on her face.
Adamaris glares at her through reddened eyes. "You are a cold-hearted b****," he growls, and stands and leaves the room. Once he's out of the room, he slams the door shut and his glare vanishes, replaced by a desperate look that is completely different from the chill, friendly guy I'd known. Maybe he didn't have any loved ones die, but she still screwed him over big time...he sobs, and hugs Madeline, and they comfort each other for a time. Elijah eventually looks at me warily.
"Your father's here and waiting for you downstairs with your daughter," he says, trying to keep his voice professional.
I nod. "I'll see him in a minute." I hug Adamaris. "Hang in there," I say soothingly, and he smiles. I let go and enter the elevator, a multitude of thoughts swimming around in my head. The elevator dings, and I see my father and my daughter hanging around in the lobby. I run towards them and he hugs me.
"Thank goodness you're safe," he says happily, and my daughter hugs me too.
"You okay, Dad?" Elisa asks innocently, and I smile at her.
"Everything's fine. Could you just let me and your father talk for a moment?" I ask kindly, and she nods, smiling, and runs off. I drop the smile and turn towards my father.
"What's going on?" my father asks, sounding a little scared but equally glad to see me. I clear my throat.
"You're going to stay in the same house, but there will be added security measures. Agents will be placed around the house, hidden from view, and will protect you and Elisa," I explain hurriedly. "If in the event that someone gets past the defenses, you'll be notified. You'll know it's safe for a person to come in if they knock on the door twice, and don't use the doorbell. If someone's using the doorbell that should be a warning sign for you to get the hell out of there."
He nods in understanding. "I see. So Elisa and I are in danger, then?"
I shrug. "It seems as though they're trying to break us. They're trying to kill the people we care about. Stories similar to what happened in the city are spreading throughout Malcolm's headquarters. The majority are being kept safe in some of Malcolm's facilities. Unfortunately, the only facility you could have come to was exposed by Prophet, so yeah. You'll be provided with weapons, of course, just in case. But there'll be highly-trained men making sure that you are safe."
He nods. "Do you think that...Damien was the one who decided to target me?"
I shake my head. "Of course not. Damien loves you. He's always wanted your approval. Maybe, in his own twisted way, that's what he's trying to do. He would never try to hurt you. The one time he did...well, you remember."
He nods. "He felt terrible for weeks. Always seemed like he was trying to make up for it some way or another. If it's true what you say, he believes he's doing the right thing, just like the rest of Prophet."
"What bugs me is that I have no idea what they're trying to accomplish," I admit. "They commit terrible, twisted acts, but they've all given the impression that it was for the greater good."
He shakes his head. "What they've done was for the greater good? They've killed, and broken people. I suppose they broke me, and they broke you."
I nod weakly. "They've broken a lot of people. Some are just better at hiding it." My mind thinks of the people upstairs, and the proud, calm, beautiful, yet terrible Prophet agent who broke Adamaris. My mind drifts to Natalie Hunt. She helped us. Something is up with that.
He sighs. "I'll see you again, Daniel. Don't you worry." We hug, and he walks away.
"Elisa, you coming? Let's go." My daughter gives me a quick hug before following my father into the SUV outside, where an agent of Malcolm waits for them. The car drives off, leaving me to my thoughts, and the peculiar and terrible feeling in my chest that says that we will never find relief, we will never stop fighting no matter how much we want to.
But the overwhelming and incomprehensible feeling that fills me is the sense that we are only a pawn in a much greater game.
***
Another dead body, another trolley. Another not-so-dead man would be broken and molded into a slave. Theo Malik was enjoying every bit of it. He stood ominously in the depths of Control, in the space beneath the floor, where men were silenced and erased completely. Their spirit not just overwhelmed, but wiped clean. The time was soon. Trueman was building the machine, and then everything would change. Malik intended to strike before they got the chance. Then, and only then would they continue, with his soldiers, with his methods. He'd be in control. He laughed at his own lame, unintentional pun.
He placed the not-dead corpse in the tank, and watched as it filled up with water and hallucinogen. He'd lost a powerful soldier in Daniel Byrne. It was a pity, indeed. But now he could continue on, unchecked, a garden free to grow however it wanted, choking the life out of everything around it. He smiled manically as the fresh meat began the process of being wiped clean, in its place a brainwashed, cleaned-slate soldier. Cold-blooded. Deadly. He smiled.
The pieces were falling into place.
Soon Prophet would be his.
Chapter 22
Adamaris stands by my side as we overlook the new Headquarters. Unlike Malcolm's, it is above ground, and is home to a rival business of AlTech Industries. We haven't met the man in charge, Kyle Gordon, as of yet. It reminds me of the building we tried to take out Slater in, it's elegant, and regular people seem to mill about, living regular lives, seemingly blissfully unaware that very irregular activities are occurring in the same, normal office building. But in actuality, all of them are agents of Malcolm, the illusion of an office building is kept, and it is partially true, Any visitor would not ever travel to the top couple of floors, where all the beds are. I don't really like it as much as our first base. Adamaris has been cold and distant lately, and I don't have rack my brain too much to imagine why. Hell, I don't have to rack my brain at all. We stand silently, leaning against the glass balcony, looking over everything occurring below us.
"So..." I begin warily, my friend still not looking at me. "How are you taking the news?"
"Not well, Daniel," he admits weakly, sounding frail and tired. His weary eyes stray towards the horizon of the setting sun. "When...when is she arriving?"
"She should be here within the hour. Blindfolded, of course. We just lost our first base, we don't want to lose our second. And Adamaris? I know you're angry at her. I wouldn't expect you not to be. Just...don't let it get to your head, okay? I captured her. She's with us now. You can get some answers."
He nods slightly, dark circles under his baggy eyes. I turn away from the balcony, and I see a man who looks like a scarecrow walking towards me, with straw-like blond hair, and is extraordinary tall and skinny. He is very pale-skinned, and wears a black suit with a purple tie. Next to him stands Elijah Sanford, arms crossed and looking morbid as ever. Adamaris turns and nods in acknowledgement of the scarecrow, and he nods back. He extends his hand towards me, and I shake it.
"Kyle Gordon," he introduces himself, sounding smooth and clipped. "Leader..at least, former leader of this facility." He spits out the words with a condescending distaste, which surprises me considering that Malcolm is his boss.
"Charmed," I reply evenly, and we separate our hands. "My name is-"
"I know who you both are," he interrupts rudely, looking like he really doesn't want to be talking. "Daniel Burne, Adamaris Zuniga, yeah yeah, whatever. I'm already filled to the brim with responsibilities, and here we are with what, a hundred more men coming my way that I have to take care of?"
"Just fifty," Elijah growls. "The others have spread out elsewhere. Stop your whining, Gordon."
"I assume there's no animosity here?" Adamaris inquires faux-innocently.
"Hey, isn't your ex en route here as we speak?" Gordon snaps irritably and irritatingly, crossing his arms.
"Would you like me to fetch Malcolm?" Elijah rolls his eyes to heaven, crossing his arms as Adamaris balls his fists.
"I've heard that your team has like a five to one win-loss ratio in missions against Prophet," the scarecrow sneers, stepping closer. "That wouldn't have been tolerated under my command."
Adamaris smiles faux-affably at him, but there's a gleam in his eyes that makes it perfectly clear he'd like nothing more than to push the arrogant prick out a window. And I rather agree with him.
"Excuse me, but is there any particular reason you're in charge?" I ask scathingly, and he rolls his eyes.
"I'm not anymore, genius. Actually, I'm much stronger than I look. Now Malcolm and Astrid have waltzed in here and messed up this little system I've got going, and I'm okay with that."
"Are you?" Elijah asks rudely, and Adamaris chuckles.
"Yes, yes I am. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Malcolm," he says, a sincere look on his face. It changes back into his look of distaste. "But for the rest of you I don't give a sh-"
"That's fantastic," I interrupt, scowling at him.
"Where's your two other teammates, that stuttering girl and that annoying dirtbag?" he asks rudely, leaning casually against the railing, no trace of irony in his voice.
"Bringing in the prisoner," Adamaris states coldly. Right on cue, the doors open and Madeline and Daren walk in, each with a gun inconspicuously pressed on the prisoner between. Adamaris's eyes widen, he struggles to keep his emotions under control. Elijah and Kyle the scarecrow give a small huh of surprise.
"I assume you all would like to be there for the interrogation?" Elijah asks casually, and Adamaris glances around uncertainly, not focusing on anything, before making eye contact with Elijah and nodding. I nod as well.
"Just make it quick. I need to talk to my father about safety. It seems that Prophet is trying to hit us where we hurt," I explain. "I do assume that Malcolm will provide security?"
"Of course," Elijah replies comfortingly, while the scarecrow rolls his eyes and looks away in disdain. "In fact, your father is being escorted here as we speak. You'll explain to him all the security measures we've set up at his house. Let me tell you that it's a lot. In fact, we didn't take any risks and have warned any family members of our members. Malcolm and Astrid are swamped right now, while Randall Quinn, despite my dislike of him, is even more, being high-up in the government and all."
I nod gratefully. "Thank you, Elijah." He nods back, and shrugs.
"Just doing my job."
"Okay, touchy feely time over, can we get a move on? Prisoners to interrogate, after all," Gordon almost whines, and we all nod and enter the elevator. On the ninth floor is the jail. The stairs have no exit on this level, and no elevator can be accessed without a key card. Guards are not supplied with a key card, and shifts are changed by another guard opening it from the inside. Any uprising from the inmates is immediately reported, and backup arrives within minutes. Very professional, very efficient. I see Madeline and Daren hanging around outside one of the cell doors. I glance in through the window to see Isabelle West sitting with perfect posture and looking fantastically unimpressed by her surroundings and predicament.
"Hey," Adamaris greets our teammates, halfheartedly raising his hand.
"Y-You feeling okay?" Madeline asks, sounding wearier than usual.
"Yes," my friend responds weakly. "Yes," he says again with more conviction. "I'm fine. I want to see her."
"Not gonna happen just yet, tiger," the scarecrow grins, cracking his knuckles. "I'm the highest rank out of anyone here. You can have your turn when I'm finished." He flexes his fingers before opening the door to the room. We look through the two-way mirror, and his clean-cut voice is clearly heard through the speakers.
"So," he sneers, sitting down across from West, whose bored expression does not change a bit. "Isabelle West. Prophet agent, operated around the world, went undercover in Spain for six months as the lover of Adamaris Zuniga, in order to get close to a scientist who promptly disappeared from the world a week later, his body surfacing in a back alley in Madrid. Congratulations, slut."
Throughout all this, Adamaris's ex does not move, or change her expression in any way. She blinks once and leans towards Kyle Gordon, her eyes boring into him.
"I have nothing to say to you," she says scornfully.
"Really?" the scarecrow scoffs, tilting his head. "I wasn't aware." He quickly stands up and grabs her head, slamming it into the stone table before drawing it up. "What about now, b****?" he demands angrily, her face now slightly bloodied and bruised, but her expression is still the same.
"I. Have nothing. To say to you," she repeats calmly, although with a little more stress on it than the last time. I turn and look at Adamaris's face, his eyes glassy and his stare not moving, looking paler and tired. Gordon slams her face into the table again, and jerks her back up by her hair.
"HOW ABOUT NOW?"
"I still...have nothing...to say...to you, at least," she grits her teeth.
"To me at least?"
"I'd like to speak...to Adamaris."
Adamaris jerks out of his stupor upon mention of his name. The scarecrow storms over and opens the door, dragging Adamaris in there. The boss of this new Headquarters shuts the door, leaving Adamaris with his mouth gaping and a terrified look in his eyes. I look out at him in sympathy, even though he can't see it thanks to the mirror. He slowly and awkwardly sits down in the chair across from her, looking extremely uncomfortable. Isabelle's heavy breathing slows, and she takes a deep breath before speaking, blood still splattered on her face.
"Do you think of me often?" she asks casually, and I can see a conundrum of emotions twisting around inside Adamaris's brain and on his face. Finally, that blank look resumes to dominate his features.
"Yes," he says simply, and pitifully.
"Good."
"Good?" Adamaris demands, with more conviction, but still sounding like he's about to cry. "Good? That's all you can say to me? You led me along, I thought you were in love with me! I was planning on proposing to you! But all of it was an act...in the end it was all an act...you just wanted the scientist, but you wanted him dead. What's the best way to draw out a reclusive scientist? Woo his close, outgoing, athletic friend! I trusted you, I loved you, and none of it was real!...none of it was real..." A tear slides down his cheek, and Isabelle barely changes her expression. There is no sadistic enjoyment of his pain. There is no remorse. There is no anger. She quirks an eyebrow.
"What you say is all true," she responds casually. "I toyed with your emotions. I wrapped you around my finger. Then when I didn't need you anymore I got rid of you. But you really think you have it bad? Do you really think you deserve revenge? Madeline Black, loses her parents, has to run for her entire life, and loses the closest thing to a brother she ever had. Kyle Gordon, raised to believe the illusion that the world is a perfect place, only to have it all crumble down and everyone he ever cared about dead." At this, Daren, Madeline, and I turn to look at Gordon in some shock, but West continues talking.
"Your leader Malcolm Waters had his sister driven insane. Elijah Sanford lost his wife to Theo Malik. And then, there's you..." Disdain enters her voice. "While everyone else has lost loved ones or has been psychologically scarred, you just had your heart broken by a girl."
His mouth hangs open and his head droops. Tears flow freely down his cheeks. "You...you did..." he whimpers. "My...my question is why? What was the scientist for?"
"He knew about Prophet, and was actively trying to avoid us," she declares proudly. "He'd gathered valuable intelligence on Prometheus. After you left, we hit it off, but he eventually realized that I was Prophet and he destroyed everything. I tortured him for a week. It was too much, so I just disposed of his body and left the country." She says everything calmly and with pride in what she's done, which to me is scarier than the attitudes of other Prophet agents I've seen, the ones who've enjoyed our suffering. She is loyal to the end, and anything she does to further Prophet is something to be proud of. "I know nothing more about him. Would you like to ask another question?" she asks, and coming from the mouth of another Prophet agent, it might have sounded gleeful, but she says it matter-of-factly, as if she doesn't have blood and bruises on her face.
Adamaris glares at her through reddened eyes. "You are a cold-hearted b****," he growls, and stands and leaves the room. Once he's out of the room, he slams the door shut and his glare vanishes, replaced by a desperate look that is completely different from the chill, friendly guy I'd known. Maybe he didn't have any loved ones die, but she still screwed him over big time...he sobs, and hugs Madeline, and they comfort each other for a time. Elijah eventually looks at me warily.
"Your father's here and waiting for you downstairs with your daughter," he says, trying to keep his voice professional.
I nod. "I'll see him in a minute." I hug Adamaris. "Hang in there," I say soothingly, and he smiles. I let go and enter the elevator, a multitude of thoughts swimming around in my head. The elevator dings, and I see my father and my daughter hanging around in the lobby. I run towards them and he hugs me.
"Thank goodness you're safe," he says happily, and my daughter hugs me too.
"You okay, Dad?" Elisa asks innocently, and I smile at her.
"Everything's fine. Could you just let me and your father talk for a moment?" I ask kindly, and she nods, smiling, and runs off. I drop the smile and turn towards my father.
"What's going on?" my father asks, sounding a little scared but equally glad to see me. I clear my throat.
"You're going to stay in the same house, but there will be added security measures. Agents will be placed around the house, hidden from view, and will protect you and Elisa," I explain hurriedly. "If in the event that someone gets past the defenses, you'll be notified. You'll know it's safe for a person to come in if they knock on the door twice, and don't use the doorbell. If someone's using the doorbell that should be a warning sign for you to get the hell out of there."
He nods in understanding. "I see. So Elisa and I are in danger, then?"
I shrug. "It seems as though they're trying to break us. They're trying to kill the people we care about. Stories similar to what happened in the city are spreading throughout Malcolm's headquarters. The majority are being kept safe in some of Malcolm's facilities. Unfortunately, the only facility you could have come to was exposed by Prophet, so yeah. You'll be provided with weapons, of course, just in case. But there'll be highly-trained men making sure that you are safe."
He nods. "Do you think that...Damien was the one who decided to target me?"
I shake my head. "Of course not. Damien loves you. He's always wanted your approval. Maybe, in his own twisted way, that's what he's trying to do. He would never try to hurt you. The one time he did...well, you remember."
He nods. "He felt terrible for weeks. Always seemed like he was trying to make up for it some way or another. If it's true what you say, he believes he's doing the right thing, just like the rest of Prophet."
"What bugs me is that I have no idea what they're trying to accomplish," I admit. "They commit terrible, twisted acts, but they've all given the impression that it was for the greater good."
He shakes his head. "What they've done was for the greater good? They've killed, and broken people. I suppose they broke me, and they broke you."
I nod weakly. "They've broken a lot of people. Some are just better at hiding it." My mind thinks of the people upstairs, and the proud, calm, beautiful, yet terrible Prophet agent who broke Adamaris. My mind drifts to Natalie Hunt. She helped us. Something is up with that.
He sighs. "I'll see you again, Daniel. Don't you worry." We hug, and he walks away.
"Elisa, you coming? Let's go." My daughter gives me a quick hug before following my father into the SUV outside, where an agent of Malcolm waits for them. The car drives off, leaving me to my thoughts, and the peculiar and terrible feeling in my chest that says that we will never find relief, we will never stop fighting no matter how much we want to.
But the overwhelming and incomprehensible feeling that fills me is the sense that we are only a pawn in a much greater game.
***
Another dead body, another trolley. Another not-so-dead man would be broken and molded into a slave. Theo Malik was enjoying every bit of it. He stood ominously in the depths of Control, in the space beneath the floor, where men were silenced and erased completely. Their spirit not just overwhelmed, but wiped clean. The time was soon. Trueman was building the machine, and then everything would change. Malik intended to strike before they got the chance. Then, and only then would they continue, with his soldiers, with his methods. He'd be in control. He laughed at his own lame, unintentional pun.
He placed the not-dead corpse in the tank, and watched as it filled up with water and hallucinogen. He'd lost a powerful soldier in Daniel Byrne. It was a pity, indeed. But now he could continue on, unchecked, a garden free to grow however it wanted, choking the life out of everything around it. He smiled manically as the fresh meat began the process of being wiped clean, in its place a brainwashed, cleaned-slate soldier. Cold-blooded. Deadly. He smiled.
The pieces were falling into place.
Soon Prophet would be his.
Well this chapter was SAD. Glad to see Adamaris get a bit of closure, but DANG THIS IS JUST GAAAAAAAH SO MUCH DEPRESSION AND SAD AND NOT HAPPY ENDINGNESS YET. AND MALIK IS STILL BEING EVIL. AND THERE ARE GONNA BE MORE ZOMBIES. AND PFFFFfffffff... I'm calm. It was a really good chapter. I liked it very much. Make more with all haste.
Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
Chapter 23
"So this is it, huh?"
My father and I stand sadly inside the kitchen that I'd lived in, played in, grown up in. The kitchen that Damien wrecked in a fit of childish rage, the kitchen that still seemed to echo and creak from the screams that erupted from my twin's mouth. Here we are now, and so much has changed, but so much has stayed the same. I nod in return to his sad, accepting inquiry, and a bittersweet smile forms on his face.
"I always thought it was my fault. I thought it was my fault that Damien did what he did, killed all those people. And maybe...maybe I do have a role. But knowing that someone or something else is the cause of his change...I'm glad for it."
"I know, father," I say comfortingly. "I've had my fair share of guilt."
He nods enthusiastically. "I knew you did too. Why else would you have gone out of the country? Then you lost your leg, that slut left you because of it..."
"Father," I warn, weary of hearing this talk. "Just let it go, okay?"
He sighs, closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them and nods. "All right. All right. It's gone. But...knowing you're out there and doing some good for the world...it makes me happy, Danny."
I groan. "Please don't call me Danny. I hate that name."
He chuckles mischievously, and hugs me. "I hope I'll see you soon."
"As do I," I reply, a click in my throat. My legs feel weak, the light feels too calm and too bright. Spring has come, yet here I am now, saying goodbye to my father for what could be the last time.
"But if I die without seeing you again, know that I will always love you, and I will always love Damien. If...if you see him, tell him that. If it means nothing to him..." He sighs, hands shaking. "He'll at least know that I wanted him to hear it."
"All right, then," I say, and we release.
"You're going? Already?" my daughter asks, and I nod miserably.
"Yes, I'm sorry...I have to. It's for your own good."
"But...why?"
"You're in danger," I say soothingly. "You'll be protected, but I can't go near you." She starts to sniffle, and I hurriedly stop her. "No no no! You can still call, we can talk, we just can't meet face to face. It'll be just like...I'm on a business trip. No worries, okay? Don't cry. We'll see each other again."
She nods, and constricts me tightly in a hug, and I hug her, patting her on the back three times. "See ya, Dad," she sniffles, and I lift her up into the air before setting her back down. My father watches sadly as I open the creaking door, and with one last glance inside, close it shut. Daren waits outside, arms crossed and is picking at his fingernails with a knife, a look of absolute and total boredom.
"Get in," he says abruptly, and I clamber into the shotgun seat. He slides into the driver's seat and starts the car. His face lately has seemed incapable of any positive emotion.
"Are you still upset with me, of all people, because of that whole Tony thing?" After I say this, he swerves dangerously on a right turn. His eyes have a icy, hardened look to them, ready to run me through.
"I really don't want to talk about it," he growls, teeth grit.
"Why? Talking about it would probably help, right?"
"Which just goes to show how little you actually know about people, Byrne."
"Why are you taking it out on me? I didn't do anything. And I'm sick and tired of your snide comments, your total animosity towards me! And we were even becoming friends, and then it just all goes to waste because of something that I. Didn't. Do."
His grip on the wheel visibly tightens, and he doesn't look over at me. He closes his eyes for a moment before responding. "I don't claim to be the most rational person on the planet. I'm not. My thought processes are irrational, fueled by emotion. I'm just out of puberty, I'm a young adult. I have to blame something, or someone for all the s*** I've been through."
"So you blame me?"
"I don't mean to! At least, not entirely. The point is that I know I'm in the wrong here, but...I just can't change how I think."
"That's weird."
He laughs without any humor, more of a bark, really. "I know. Not really like I can do anything about it. Man...sometimes I wish I could just be like Prophet, no hesitation, just do what needs to be done..." His eyes widen when he sees my dumbfounded face. "Wait! No, no, not like that! I'd never...Prophet is evil! I was just commenting on their work ethic, their loyalty. I mean, the majority of them commit suicide rather than be taken captive."
"Or appear to commit suicide," I remind him, and he nods at the memory of Theo Malik's escape.
"Or that, but Malcolm is pretty sure that those are only experimental and not very wide-spread," Daren replies. "But the point is that they're efficient, and further themselves to reach their goals...whatever the hell those goals may be. Whereas we're spread out, wasted, and we're constantly on the defensive. Our missions fail a lot of the time. Sometimes I even wonder if we're making a difference...or even why we're fighting in the first place."
"They've hurt us all, remember? Adamaris is a wreck, just because they chose the right agent to send. They're trying to kill my family, and let's not forget why we're all here. You have just as much reason to be here as we do."
He nods in realization. "Thank you, Daniel."
The rest of the car ride is in pretty much total silence, which gives me plenty of time to my thoughts and my mistakes. Daren appears to be deep in thought, and as a result I submerge myself in memories, thinking back to what I'd done wrong and what I could have done instead...
***
"Damien, come on! It's time for dinner!"
The small boy smiled brightly, standing at the top of the stairs to the basement, where his brother was playing with some toys moodily, pretending that two action figures were fighting each other and that his favorite was curb-stomping the other one, exploding him into a million tiny pieces. He payed no attention to his twin, and the only indication he'd even heard what Daniel had said was a brief scowl that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
"Damien, seriously! It's tacos! How can you not love tacos?"
"Leave me alone!" the meaner twin retorted, stepping his foot on the least favorite action figure. Daniel climbed down the stairs, a childish smile on his face and surprisingly good posture for a six-year old, as opposed to his brother, who slouched all the time and reclined whenever he possibly could.
"Damien, we're getting hungry, and we can't say our prayers without everyone at the table. Plus, you need to eat."
"I don't want to eat!" Damien moaned. "I just want to play with my toys, is that too much to ask? I don't want to eat! At all! Not hungry!"
"What's going on down here?" William Byrne, the father, clambered down the stairs, a goofy smile on his face. "Damien, it's not vegetables. You don't need to insist on this whole not-eating shtick."
Damien grumbled a bit to himself before looking up at his father. "Fine. Fine. I'm coming. I'll be up in a minute."
"Great!" the elder Byrne replied happily , and Damien stomped up the stairs, still obviously angry that he'd had to cut his playtime short. The mother sat placidly at her seat, hands politely tucked in her lap, and perfect posture, just like the much more desirable son, Daniel. Damien slouched in his seat, which his father noticed and immediately implored him to correct. Grudgingly, the twin who would grow up to be a mass murderer complied. They linked hands together as they began to pray.
"God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. Amen..."
Damien began digging in, while his brother Daniel took small, polite bites, chewing at an acceptable pace. His father noticed. "Damien, you don't have to wolf down all that. You see Daniel? He's taking smaller bites, and he's getting more out of it."
Damien's face contorted momentarily before composing itself, and he took slower bites. He glared at his twin brother, who paid him no attention.
"Damien, dear, don't chew with your mouth open, nobody wants to see that," his father said, that smile still on his face. Seething, Damien closed his mouth as he chewed his taco, before swallowing. The mother was noticing the surly looks her son was giving everyone, but her husband did not, only noticing his ruder son's improved table manners.
"That's better, that's better. Damien, you see your brother Daniel over there? You see how he didn't even need to be told any of it, he just knew what to do."
"Bill..." his wife warned him.
"Not now, honey," he waved her aside. Daniel sat in polite silence, glancing warily at both sides of the table. "Damien, you need to be more like your brother. He doesn't need to be asked?"
"What if I don't want to be like my brother?" Damien growled. "What if I want to be my own person, not just compared to Goody-Two-Shoes over there? You ever thought of that?"
"As a matter of fact, I have," William Byrne retorted. "But I see no reason why you should grow up to be a slob."
"I am who I am, Father! Just let me be, would you? Just let it go! Stop telling me who to be when you don't even use a napkin!" he shouted, and Daniel's eyes glazed over, staring at a single spot, thinking with all of his might that he could not get involved.
"You are my son!" the out-of-line father yelled, standing up. His wife tried to sit him down, but he slapped her hand aside. "And I am your father!"
"You ever think about anyone but yourself?" the prodigal son snarled, looking positively terrifying for a six-year old. "WELL I DON'T NEED YOU! I DON'T NEED THIS! I HATE YOU, YOU HEAR ME! I HATE YOU!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" the mother yelled, slamming her hands on the table and glaring. The sudden transition from polite and mild to bellowing made both of the males stop, and Daniel stare on, eyes wide like saucers. "Damien, Daniel, to your rooms. I think you need to cool down." Damien and Daniel stood, Daniel placid, Damien furious. Damien stormed up the stairs and slammed his door shut loudly, while his brother did the same thing mildly. "As for you," they could hear their mother turn on the father now, "we need to have a little talk..."
Damien growled and whined in his room, throwing an action figure across the room and taking pleasure in the noise it made when it smashed against the wall. The tantrum lasted at least ten more minutes before he finally lied down on his bed and remained quiet. Another ten minutes, and he was asleep. All in all, just a normal six-year old's tantrum, and nothing to be concerned about in the long run. Across the hall, Daniel lied on his bed, reading quietly, and sighed as he thought about his brother, and how he wasn't honestly in the wrong for that particular temper tantrum.
The behaviors exhibited by Damien and William Byrne immediately ceased the next day for the most part under pain of Mrs. Byrne's anger, each maintaining a fallacy that everything was okay, and that they were perfectly happy with their lives. Damien still displayed some anger, but this was perfectly normal for a child his age. Both parents assumed that he would grow out of it, and that everything would be perfectly fine. Daniel and Damien got along as well as brothers could, and for a time everything seemed dead set on the path to being normal.
The era of peace ended a year later, when Gabrielle Byrne, wedded to William Byrne and mother of Damien and Daniel Byrne, was run over in the parking lot by a drunk driver.
From then on, chaos reigned.
***
Slater leaned over the blueprint, examining the details of the machine, and whistling and shaking his head, an impressed smile on his face. "That's really something," he nodded to Grant Aamor, who nodded in return.
"Which is why a distraction for those moronic nincompoops in necessary. There are a lot of pieces to this machine, and the pods don't all come down at once, you know."
"Isn't that a bit redundant? Moronic nincompoops?" the businessman replied, folding the sheet up.
Aamor chuckled. "I suppose so, my friend. I suppose so."
"Since when where we friends?" Slater implored, raising an eyebrow, but with a joking smile on his face.
Aamor smirked at him. "Well, you're much more bearable than Malik." As if he was tempting fate, directly after those words escaped from his mouth, shadowed hands closed around his mouth from behind, and his eyes bulged as he tried to figure out what was going on. Theo Malik stepped out of the shadows behind him and smiled in sadistic enjoyment of Aamor's startled reaction.
"What was that again?" Malik snickered, lurching slightly, eye bloodshot and a bottle in his hand. "You want me to slit your throat with a pair of kitchen scissors?"
"Malik, go home. You're drunk," Slater deadpanned.
Malik laughed wildly, continuing until finally his coughs took over and he keeled over, putting his hands to his mouth and wheezing furiously.
"You should really think about showing some professional dignity," Aamor sneered, wrinkling his nose. "And you should probably take a shower too. What are you even doing here, apart from pissing me off?"
"Isn't that a good enough reason?"
"Teddy..." Slater warned, rolling his eyes, lazily raising his gun, an amused smile on his face.
"Don't call me that," the scientist snapped. "And I was just celebrating."
"Celebrating?" the two colleagues asked in unison.
"For what?" Aamor inquired, trying to raise an eyebrow but failing spectacularly.
Malik snickered, smirking to himself. "I know where they're operating out of. So does Trueman."
"What?"
"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."
"How...how do you know?" Slater inquired uncertainly.
"Let's say that I have an...inside contact."
"And you didn't tell the boss about it?" Aamor shot up, suddenly gleeful at the opportunity to get Malik in trouble. "Failure to tell the boss an important detail will result in-"
"I told him. He agrees with me that we don't need to wipe them out. Yet. Just distract them until the machine is complete, and when that happens, they're no longer necessary." Malik giggled to himself, taking out a knife and examining it closely. Slater and Aamor quickly backed away from him.
"One last question before we go. Who's the inside man?"
Malik raised his gleeful, drunken eyes at his fellow Prophet members, and shoved them out the door.
"No reason to tell you!" He slammed the door shut, leaving Slater and Aamor wondering what the hell just happened.
"So this is it, huh?"
My father and I stand sadly inside the kitchen that I'd lived in, played in, grown up in. The kitchen that Damien wrecked in a fit of childish rage, the kitchen that still seemed to echo and creak from the screams that erupted from my twin's mouth. Here we are now, and so much has changed, but so much has stayed the same. I nod in return to his sad, accepting inquiry, and a bittersweet smile forms on his face.
"I always thought it was my fault. I thought it was my fault that Damien did what he did, killed all those people. And maybe...maybe I do have a role. But knowing that someone or something else is the cause of his change...I'm glad for it."
"I know, father," I say comfortingly. "I've had my fair share of guilt."
He nods enthusiastically. "I knew you did too. Why else would you have gone out of the country? Then you lost your leg, that slut left you because of it..."
"Father," I warn, weary of hearing this talk. "Just let it go, okay?"
He sighs, closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them and nods. "All right. All right. It's gone. But...knowing you're out there and doing some good for the world...it makes me happy, Danny."
I groan. "Please don't call me Danny. I hate that name."
He chuckles mischievously, and hugs me. "I hope I'll see you soon."
"As do I," I reply, a click in my throat. My legs feel weak, the light feels too calm and too bright. Spring has come, yet here I am now, saying goodbye to my father for what could be the last time.
"But if I die without seeing you again, know that I will always love you, and I will always love Damien. If...if you see him, tell him that. If it means nothing to him..." He sighs, hands shaking. "He'll at least know that I wanted him to hear it."
"All right, then," I say, and we release.
"You're going? Already?" my daughter asks, and I nod miserably.
"Yes, I'm sorry...I have to. It's for your own good."
"But...why?"
"You're in danger," I say soothingly. "You'll be protected, but I can't go near you." She starts to sniffle, and I hurriedly stop her. "No no no! You can still call, we can talk, we just can't meet face to face. It'll be just like...I'm on a business trip. No worries, okay? Don't cry. We'll see each other again."
She nods, and constricts me tightly in a hug, and I hug her, patting her on the back three times. "See ya, Dad," she sniffles, and I lift her up into the air before setting her back down. My father watches sadly as I open the creaking door, and with one last glance inside, close it shut. Daren waits outside, arms crossed and is picking at his fingernails with a knife, a look of absolute and total boredom.
"Get in," he says abruptly, and I clamber into the shotgun seat. He slides into the driver's seat and starts the car. His face lately has seemed incapable of any positive emotion.
"Are you still upset with me, of all people, because of that whole Tony thing?" After I say this, he swerves dangerously on a right turn. His eyes have a icy, hardened look to them, ready to run me through.
"I really don't want to talk about it," he growls, teeth grit.
"Why? Talking about it would probably help, right?"
"Which just goes to show how little you actually know about people, Byrne."
"Why are you taking it out on me? I didn't do anything. And I'm sick and tired of your snide comments, your total animosity towards me! And we were even becoming friends, and then it just all goes to waste because of something that I. Didn't. Do."
His grip on the wheel visibly tightens, and he doesn't look over at me. He closes his eyes for a moment before responding. "I don't claim to be the most rational person on the planet. I'm not. My thought processes are irrational, fueled by emotion. I'm just out of puberty, I'm a young adult. I have to blame something, or someone for all the s*** I've been through."
"So you blame me?"
"I don't mean to! At least, not entirely. The point is that I know I'm in the wrong here, but...I just can't change how I think."
"That's weird."
He laughs without any humor, more of a bark, really. "I know. Not really like I can do anything about it. Man...sometimes I wish I could just be like Prophet, no hesitation, just do what needs to be done..." His eyes widen when he sees my dumbfounded face. "Wait! No, no, not like that! I'd never...Prophet is evil! I was just commenting on their work ethic, their loyalty. I mean, the majority of them commit suicide rather than be taken captive."
"Or appear to commit suicide," I remind him, and he nods at the memory of Theo Malik's escape.
"Or that, but Malcolm is pretty sure that those are only experimental and not very wide-spread," Daren replies. "But the point is that they're efficient, and further themselves to reach their goals...whatever the hell those goals may be. Whereas we're spread out, wasted, and we're constantly on the defensive. Our missions fail a lot of the time. Sometimes I even wonder if we're making a difference...or even why we're fighting in the first place."
"They've hurt us all, remember? Adamaris is a wreck, just because they chose the right agent to send. They're trying to kill my family, and let's not forget why we're all here. You have just as much reason to be here as we do."
He nods in realization. "Thank you, Daniel."
The rest of the car ride is in pretty much total silence, which gives me plenty of time to my thoughts and my mistakes. Daren appears to be deep in thought, and as a result I submerge myself in memories, thinking back to what I'd done wrong and what I could have done instead...
***
"Damien, come on! It's time for dinner!"
The small boy smiled brightly, standing at the top of the stairs to the basement, where his brother was playing with some toys moodily, pretending that two action figures were fighting each other and that his favorite was curb-stomping the other one, exploding him into a million tiny pieces. He payed no attention to his twin, and the only indication he'd even heard what Daniel had said was a brief scowl that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
"Damien, seriously! It's tacos! How can you not love tacos?"
"Leave me alone!" the meaner twin retorted, stepping his foot on the least favorite action figure. Daniel climbed down the stairs, a childish smile on his face and surprisingly good posture for a six-year old, as opposed to his brother, who slouched all the time and reclined whenever he possibly could.
"Damien, we're getting hungry, and we can't say our prayers without everyone at the table. Plus, you need to eat."
"I don't want to eat!" Damien moaned. "I just want to play with my toys, is that too much to ask? I don't want to eat! At all! Not hungry!"
"What's going on down here?" William Byrne, the father, clambered down the stairs, a goofy smile on his face. "Damien, it's not vegetables. You don't need to insist on this whole not-eating shtick."
Damien grumbled a bit to himself before looking up at his father. "Fine. Fine. I'm coming. I'll be up in a minute."
"Great!" the elder Byrne replied happily , and Damien stomped up the stairs, still obviously angry that he'd had to cut his playtime short. The mother sat placidly at her seat, hands politely tucked in her lap, and perfect posture, just like the much more desirable son, Daniel. Damien slouched in his seat, which his father noticed and immediately implored him to correct. Grudgingly, the twin who would grow up to be a mass murderer complied. They linked hands together as they began to pray.
"God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. Amen..."
Damien began digging in, while his brother Daniel took small, polite bites, chewing at an acceptable pace. His father noticed. "Damien, you don't have to wolf down all that. You see Daniel? He's taking smaller bites, and he's getting more out of it."
Damien's face contorted momentarily before composing itself, and he took slower bites. He glared at his twin brother, who paid him no attention.
"Damien, dear, don't chew with your mouth open, nobody wants to see that," his father said, that smile still on his face. Seething, Damien closed his mouth as he chewed his taco, before swallowing. The mother was noticing the surly looks her son was giving everyone, but her husband did not, only noticing his ruder son's improved table manners.
"That's better, that's better. Damien, you see your brother Daniel over there? You see how he didn't even need to be told any of it, he just knew what to do."
"Bill..." his wife warned him.
"Not now, honey," he waved her aside. Daniel sat in polite silence, glancing warily at both sides of the table. "Damien, you need to be more like your brother. He doesn't need to be asked?"
"What if I don't want to be like my brother?" Damien growled. "What if I want to be my own person, not just compared to Goody-Two-Shoes over there? You ever thought of that?"
"As a matter of fact, I have," William Byrne retorted. "But I see no reason why you should grow up to be a slob."
"I am who I am, Father! Just let me be, would you? Just let it go! Stop telling me who to be when you don't even use a napkin!" he shouted, and Daniel's eyes glazed over, staring at a single spot, thinking with all of his might that he could not get involved.
"You are my son!" the out-of-line father yelled, standing up. His wife tried to sit him down, but he slapped her hand aside. "And I am your father!"
"You ever think about anyone but yourself?" the prodigal son snarled, looking positively terrifying for a six-year old. "WELL I DON'T NEED YOU! I DON'T NEED THIS! I HATE YOU, YOU HEAR ME! I HATE YOU!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" the mother yelled, slamming her hands on the table and glaring. The sudden transition from polite and mild to bellowing made both of the males stop, and Daniel stare on, eyes wide like saucers. "Damien, Daniel, to your rooms. I think you need to cool down." Damien and Daniel stood, Daniel placid, Damien furious. Damien stormed up the stairs and slammed his door shut loudly, while his brother did the same thing mildly. "As for you," they could hear their mother turn on the father now, "we need to have a little talk..."
Damien growled and whined in his room, throwing an action figure across the room and taking pleasure in the noise it made when it smashed against the wall. The tantrum lasted at least ten more minutes before he finally lied down on his bed and remained quiet. Another ten minutes, and he was asleep. All in all, just a normal six-year old's tantrum, and nothing to be concerned about in the long run. Across the hall, Daniel lied on his bed, reading quietly, and sighed as he thought about his brother, and how he wasn't honestly in the wrong for that particular temper tantrum.
The behaviors exhibited by Damien and William Byrne immediately ceased the next day for the most part under pain of Mrs. Byrne's anger, each maintaining a fallacy that everything was okay, and that they were perfectly happy with their lives. Damien still displayed some anger, but this was perfectly normal for a child his age. Both parents assumed that he would grow out of it, and that everything would be perfectly fine. Daniel and Damien got along as well as brothers could, and for a time everything seemed dead set on the path to being normal.
The era of peace ended a year later, when Gabrielle Byrne, wedded to William Byrne and mother of Damien and Daniel Byrne, was run over in the parking lot by a drunk driver.
From then on, chaos reigned.
***
Slater leaned over the blueprint, examining the details of the machine, and whistling and shaking his head, an impressed smile on his face. "That's really something," he nodded to Grant Aamor, who nodded in return.
"Which is why a distraction for those moronic nincompoops in necessary. There are a lot of pieces to this machine, and the pods don't all come down at once, you know."
"Isn't that a bit redundant? Moronic nincompoops?" the businessman replied, folding the sheet up.
Aamor chuckled. "I suppose so, my friend. I suppose so."
"Since when where we friends?" Slater implored, raising an eyebrow, but with a joking smile on his face.
Aamor smirked at him. "Well, you're much more bearable than Malik." As if he was tempting fate, directly after those words escaped from his mouth, shadowed hands closed around his mouth from behind, and his eyes bulged as he tried to figure out what was going on. Theo Malik stepped out of the shadows behind him and smiled in sadistic enjoyment of Aamor's startled reaction.
"What was that again?" Malik snickered, lurching slightly, eye bloodshot and a bottle in his hand. "You want me to slit your throat with a pair of kitchen scissors?"
"Malik, go home. You're drunk," Slater deadpanned.
Malik laughed wildly, continuing until finally his coughs took over and he keeled over, putting his hands to his mouth and wheezing furiously.
"You should really think about showing some professional dignity," Aamor sneered, wrinkling his nose. "And you should probably take a shower too. What are you even doing here, apart from pissing me off?"
"Isn't that a good enough reason?"
"Teddy..." Slater warned, rolling his eyes, lazily raising his gun, an amused smile on his face.
"Don't call me that," the scientist snapped. "And I was just celebrating."
"Celebrating?" the two colleagues asked in unison.
"For what?" Aamor inquired, trying to raise an eyebrow but failing spectacularly.
Malik snickered, smirking to himself. "I know where they're operating out of. So does Trueman."
"What?"
"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."
"How...how do you know?" Slater inquired uncertainly.
"Let's say that I have an...inside contact."
"And you didn't tell the boss about it?" Aamor shot up, suddenly gleeful at the opportunity to get Malik in trouble. "Failure to tell the boss an important detail will result in-"
"I told him. He agrees with me that we don't need to wipe them out. Yet. Just distract them until the machine is complete, and when that happens, they're no longer necessary." Malik giggled to himself, taking out a knife and examining it closely. Slater and Aamor quickly backed away from him.
"One last question before we go. Who's the inside man?"
Malik raised his gleeful, drunken eyes at his fellow Prophet members, and shoved them out the door.
"No reason to tell you!" He slammed the door shut, leaving Slater and Aamor wondering what the hell just happened.