Chapter 27
"What the hell, Malik? What the hell?"
Malik was hunched over one of his usual corpses, and he glanced up to look at the speaker. Natalie Hunt stood before him, arms crossed and a furious look on her face. He shrugged at her, smiling irritatingly. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said smoothly in his usual superior tone, mock-bowing to her with a scalpel in one hand and chopsticks in the other.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You abducted a man and planted a bomb underneath his skin. Don't play innocent."
He groaned, rolling his eyes and placing his chopsticks and scalpel down. "So what if I did?"
"Well, for starters, you've just attracted their attention right after they found our manuscript!"
"We're supposed to distract them, right?" Malik continued, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. "That's what I'm doing. What's the problem?"
"Those were
innocent people, Malik."
"Then why are you here?"
Silence for a moment, and Hunt seemed to be resisting the urge to reach across and strangle the scientist by the throat. Suddenly, her body relaxed. "I'm here because I was chasing Steven Gardner and my car went off a bridge, and Prophet fished me out. I stayed because I believed I could make a difference."
Malik narrowed his bloodshot, twitching eyes. "Would you betray us if you could?"
"Would you?" she retorted, disdain and contempt clear in her voice. There was silence on his end for a second.
"Of course not," he replied smoothly-too smoothly for the psychopath. "I'm loyal to Prophet."
"Because they let you kill."
He snorted. "Tomato tom-ah-to, why are you so concerned, Miss Cheerleader? The machine needs to be completed and I'm distracting them long enough for it to be done. Why should it matter to you when a couple of hundred people die when there are billions in the balance?"
"You'd kill them
all if you could."
"...Touche. But I can't. So, Prophet is with me, and I am with Prophet. Now excuse me, I think I'm going to remove this man's organs, so you should probably leave."
Placidly, Hunt turned around and walked out of the room. Outside were Adrian Key and Steven Gardner. The three walked down the dim halls of Control, talking.
"So, he give you anything?" Gardner asked, stepping inside her personal bubble sleazily, but she abruptly pushed him away, hatred on her face. "Okay, fine, sorry..."
"He said he'd kill everyone on the planet if he could, but that's not news. He went off on his own agenda to 'help' with the plan. Do I believe him? Not one bit."
"So what's the deal here, is he traitorous?" Adrian yawned, looking bored out of his mind.
"Probably just a lunatic," Hunt said, which was met with nods from Gardner and Adrian.
"Aamor said that he and Slater were talking one day and Malik came in drunk, saying that he had a contact inside of their organization," Gardner recalled, adjusting his glasses.
"Were he and Slater friends?" Adrian asked.
"No, although they didn't hate each other like he does Grant. Really, Malik isn't friends with anyone here. We mainly keep him at arm's length," Gardner said.
Adrian started humming the Grinch's theme, and then started singing from the
seasick crocodile line, prompting Hunt and Gardner to laugh. "It's true, though," he shrugged.
"I'm not saying it wasn't," Hunt chuckled as they reached the dining hall. It never was quiet nowadays, not with the pods and the incoming war and everything. People ran around to and fro, calling to each other, and weapons practice had amped up ever since Slater's death. As they passed one of the many training rooms, they could see Damien Byrne overseeing the training, looking remote and professional. The news that he had killed his own father had spread quickly around Control, and that combined with his new position as Trueman's lieutenant struck fear into the hearts of many of Control's inhabitants.
"Gardner, leave us, we can discuss Malik later," Hunt said.
"You sure, sweetheart?" he grinned creepily, and received a gun pressed into his forehead. The sad thing was, a gun to a person's forehead was a really common threat in control. Adrian watched in quiet amusement as the creep slipped away, scowling. Hunt placed her gun in her holster, entering a lounge room with Key. Sighing in relief, she sank into a chair, placing a tired hand to her forehead. Adrian did the same in the chair across from her.
"Never thought my life would get this complicated this fast," Adrian sighed. "I mean, I get kicked out of high school, then this dude hands me the Prophet manuscript...then I joined mainly to laugh at you guys...but...we're the real deal, man...we're the real deal."
Hunt nodded. "I was CIA before Prophet found me close to dead. I thought we were for a noble cause. But I see Gardner, Malik, Damien...and I wonder whether or not it's worth it."
"Human nature always gets the better of things," Adrian explained in wisdom beyond his twenty-two years of age. "I wasn't here when Bartholomew was in charge, so I wouldn't know what this place was like then."
"Nor I," Hunt agreed.
"Does anyone know what happened to him?" Adrian asked curiously.
Hunt shook her head. "I don't know...no one's told me. I'm moving up in Prophet's ranks, though. Apparently I'm more stable and trustworthy than...some..."
Adrian let out a laugh. "Yeah. I know. Man, it makes you wonder why we're even still here..."
"Because even if we leave, the war will come to us," Hunt realized quietly.
Adrian nodded. "There's no escaping it. Katherine told me she'd like to leave too...but she knows she can't. Not when we're making a difference, despite our...psychopathy."
"Psychopathy..." Hunt mused, thinking it over. "Psychopathy...indeed. Adrian, just curious, have you seen the machine yet?"
"That would be a no."
"Would you like to?"
"...Well, sure...do I have clearance?"
"I do."
Adrian stood. "Let's do this, then."
The two saner Prophet agents strode purposefully through the halls, Adrian following Hunt cautiously. After about five minutes of maneuvering, Hunt placed her hand on a scanner. It glowed green. The door opened, and the humming of the air conditioner unit filled their ears as they stepped inside the large, open room. People in lab coats shuffled around, relaying instructions to one another, and sparks flew as people in worker's outfits put another piece into place on the machine.
The machine that consisted of a metal, circular platform with steps leading down, and two gargantuan spires on either side of it. The humming was different than that of the air conditioning, it was more whirring, and a blue light coursed through the entire structure.
"Holy..." Adrian stood there in awe. "I...I don't even know what this does..."
"It's how we're going to bring the fight to them," Hunt said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.
"But...how..."
"Sorry, can't tell you that. You'll know soon, though. I promise." She glanced quickly around. "You should probably go now."
Adrian nodded, and, still in shock, exit the room, awe evident in his expression and walking pattern. Hunt turned back to the machine. It was far from complete, but was still an impressive feat. Or, it would have been had Prometheus not deposited the blueprints in Marcus Trueman's lap.
"Natalie Hunt?"
Grant Aamor stood behind her, arms folded across his chest. Hunt turned and smiled at her former handler.
"Grant. Pleasure as always."
His trademark sniff entered Hunt's ears. "I don't have time to tell if that was sarcasm or not. What are you doing here?"
"I have the clearance, don't I?"
"Yes...well..." Aamor appeared a little flustered. "I...I don't...never mind. What's the news on Malik?"
"Suspicious. We're keeping an eye on him."
He grinned widely at the news. "If he ends up being a traitor....heh heh heh...well, I'll be rid of
him. Finally."
Hunt shrugged. "I don't think it matters right now, sir, what your personal opinions of Malik are. If I may..."
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a vibration from Aamor's pocket. "Hold on, I'll get that," he said, opening his phone and holding it to his ear. "Yes? Wait...WHAT happened? Yes, yes...I'll be right there..."
Hunt looked at him in interest as he hung up. "What is it?"
Aamor scratched his arms nervously. "Something big...you'll see..."
***
It's my first mission since...Dad died. And in all honesty I'm excited. Maybe, with this case, this hole in my stomach can finally be healed. Or, at the very least, it'll distract me...the last thing I want to think about is the pain. If I'm busy...I'm happy. But in the lonely nights, when I lie in bed, unable to sleep, thoughts of my father's corpse and the hallucinogen fill my mind to the brim and overflow onto my pillow...I'm broken, aren't I?
The four of us enter the theater to a grisly site. Blood is spread all across the walls and dead bodies lie littered around like stuffed animals on the floor. Adamaris kneels over the remains of what was once a man, and now is a bloodied mess on the floor. It seems to be the epicenter of the blast.
"Well, this is definitely Theo Malik..." he says nervously. I hear sobbing in the distance. Strange to think that these were once people, living lives, ruined by Prophet in their mad bid to "protect" our world. Their goals still confound me...it's difficult to believe there's another world out there and that we were placed here by another race, and not God...of course, anything Prophet says must be taken with a grain of salt, especially considering this grotesque display. But then again, if that's the case, my father would be dead for no reason...either way, hate still fills me. I don't care if they think they're saviors or something, they're
wrong. Anyone who could do this is
wrong.
"You don't say?" Daren retorts, half-jokingly. It still does surprise me how much we can take all this in stride. Are we desensitized to this? Are we losing that sense of horror that someone actually did this to these people? Do we recognize these were actually people?
"I...don't know what to say," I stand there in queasy shock. This is...possibly the most nauseating display Prophet has ever put on. We spend another half hour looking for clues, but end up finding no leads on anything...we end up heading back to Headquarters. Dizzy dizzy dizzy...why? I thought I'd gotten over this, but the blood splatters and the entrails scattered have made me want to crawl out of my skin and curl up on the floor, dead...what? What? What am I doing? No...just...breathe...calm down. Breathe. Okay. I'm feeling better now...all better. Everything is fine. There's nothing wrong. Revenge will surely come. One day.
"So. What's the deal here?"
Kyle Gordon stands there, tapping his foot and looking irritably at the four of us. "A-are you okay?" Madeline asks him.
"Pft. Come on, already. Malcolm, Elijah, Quinn, Astrid, and I are going to be meeting. Since you...fine people investigated Malik's latest art project, you guys are comin' along. We just keep getting busier and busier, don't we."
The four of us glance worriedly at each other, and then back at him. He moves quickly, and it's hard to keep up with him as he moves through the halls. We eventually enter the meeting room, and just like Gordon said, many of the top members of Malcolm's group are there, including, but not limited to Quinn, Elijah, and Astrid.
"Good to see you guys could make it," Malcolm nods as he speaks, acknowledging our presence.
"What he said," Elijah says, smiling peacefully.
"Thanks," Adamaris says, sitting down. "Okay, so, victim's name was Eric Pratt, aged 26. From what we can tell, he was abducted and returned with a bomb implanted in him...which they then detonated while he was at a concert. The question we're asking is 'why.'"
"That is one of the many questions we have asked ourselves over the past few days," Quinn says nonchalantly, placing his feet on the table to a disapproving stare from Astrid.
"It's obviously Malik. He was probably bored," Elijah scoffs, sitting stiffly in his chair.
"True," I say. "But I thought they kept a leash on him or something..."
"Daniel, you were placed under a hallucinogen that tortured you for seventy-two hours straight, and your father's dead. Are you sure you should be here right now?" Gordon asks condescendingly, while another person might have sounded concerned.
"No. I'm fine. I need something to do to keep my mind off it," I monotone, and a sneer forms on his face.
"Kyle, stop," Malcolm warns. "Okay, so if Malik did that, why? What is the purpose?"
"Well, it seems as though they're preparing for something to do with the 'other world,'" Elijah makes air quotes as he says the words, "But blowing up a concert hall? It doesn't fit."
"They've done plenty of that kind of thing before we knew about their goals," Quinn yawns, stretching.
"How the hell are you part of the government again?" Astrid asks incredulously, much to Quinn's amusement.
"Not the point, Astrid," Malcolm says. I look at my teammates. Madeline has her eyes closed and doesn't seem to want to contribute to the conversation. Daren's jaw is set and he looks impatient and bored. Adamaris is calm and professional. As for me? I don't honestly know.
"Elijah. Do you remember anything about your time while you were abducted by Malik?" Gordon asks.
"Um..." Elijah hesitates. "No. I remember...knives...I think. Pain."
"You were found with burn wounds on your chest, right?"
"That's right."
"Do you remember what caused that?"
"Um, why are you grilling me?" Elijah asks confusedly, a perplexed expression on his face.
"Because you're the only one who's had a similar experience to Mr. Pratt. He had burn wounds on his chest, as far as we can...tell..." Gordon's voice dies out.
Elijah looks around at us strangely. "What?"
"Elijah..." Malcolm begins hesitantly..."Do you mind showing us your scars?"
"Why is it relevant?"
My team examines the back and forth between the two nervously, uncertain as to what is going on.
"Because...if the burn scars are the same as the ones on Mr. Pratt...you could have a bomb inside you."
The atmosphere in the room seems to tense, and it's all eyes on Elijah as his hands tremble and his eyes widen. He unbuttons the top of his shirt, hands shaking...and suddenly, his other arm whips up and fires several shots, and I hear a yell, and Kyle Gordon crumples to the floor, bleeding from the shoulder. Elijah sprints out of the room.
"Get him, get him!" Malcolm almost screams, and the rest of us recover, sprinting out of the room while Malcolm tends to Gordon's wounds. I catch a glimpse of the balding, older man entering the elevator, and I'm about to fire a shot when Daren stops me.
"No! He has a bomb inside him, he might blow!"
"What the hell is going on?" Adamaris runs up to us as the elevator door closes. "Is Elijah..."
"He shot Gordon in the shoulder," I remind him, "something's obviously up."
"Is he Prophet?"
"Possibly."
I hear Madeline shout from upstairs. "I c-can't find him! H-he must be on th-the prison floor!"
Daren curses, and presses the up button on the elevator over and over again, tapping his foot. I decide not to tell him that doing that does absolutely nothing. After what seems to be an eternity, the elevator door opens and we run in, and Daren immediately presses the "nine" button over and over again. Once again, I don't say anything. Finally, the door closes, and it's silence until "Staying Alive" starts playing through the speakers, drawing out a few weirded-out looks between our team. Such great timing. Really.
Finally, the elevator door opens and the three of us sprint out, and at the end of the corridor I see Elijah standing next to an open cell. A beaten and haggard Isabelle West saunters out, hand on her hip, and the other hand extended towards Elijah. He hands her a gun and she promptly fires at us. We scatter, and return fire, as Elijah stands there awkwardly. I hear the shattering of a window and I look up to see that West has jumped out the window. I curse quietly.
"Stop right there!" Sanford's voice is deep, throaty, but also distinctly terrified. His shaking arm holds a pistol in our direction. "If...if you move, I'll shoot!"
"What's going on, Sanford?" I demand. "Are you with Prophet?"
"I'm sorry, all of you! When Malik knocked me out, he took me to a facility and planted a bomb inside me!" he grits his teeth as he speaks, tears rolling down the side of his face. "I had. No. Choice. If I didn't do what he asked, he'd blow everyone up!"
"Why didn't he just blow Malcolm up when he had the chance?" Daren hollers.
"I don't know, okay? Just get away from me!" Of course, Daren moves closer to him, gun raised. Adamaris and I remain behind, crouched, guns pointed at our former friend. "No no no no, get away, get away!"
"I'm not scared," Daren growls, and fires at Elijah's leg. He lets out a yell and crumples, and Daren moves toward him, and looks behind to give us a smirk. I notice with a growing horror the escalating beeping sound and the red dot flashing on Elijah's chest.
"DAREN, GET AWAY-" Elijah lets out a final scream as the explosion rocks the corridor, slamming me into the ground and coating me with blood. I begin to fade out...fade out...fade out...
My eyes flicker open, and I raise my bloodied hands, helping me up. I see Adamaris unconscious. The hallway is ruined. It seems to have been a smaller bomb than the one used in the concert hall. That being said, it looks like there's been damage to the support...I turn to see Adamaris, and I lurch over to him, and check his pulse. Thump thump. Thump thump. He's alive. Blood and other bodily fluids stain the walls. Elijah...is no more. But where's Daren. I stumble around, coughing and hacking, looking for any sign of Daren.
"Daren? Daren?" I move over to what little remains of Sanford. There is no corpse for Daren. He's not here. And he's not dead. Which means he can only be...no...no no no no no...
"Daren?"
"Daren?"
"DAREN?"
***
...AND I just realized I killed the black guy first.
Ciao.