John III:

John eyed his target, letting three consecutive shots fire from the gun in his hands. The loud bang that followed echoed throughout the room, yet he did not wince. He had long since been desensitized to the sound of gunfire.

What gave him trouble, was the offer his captain offered. To be the commander was a great honor, especially for someone newer to this. Benjamin was the oldest on the team, but he cared little for rank.

“The jobs all that matters.” He’d heard the man say once.

Then there was Ada, while younger than he was she’d been fighting since she was a child. Her background shaped her skills today. Yet the captain insisted that she wasn’t ready.

‘So why me?’ John thought.

He recalled Chris’s first answer.

“Your skills and contributions.”

John let out a chuckle hearing this. It was true he did his part, whether that be recon, infiltration or negotiation he did it. But surely those missions weren’t enough to promote him to commander?

His skills? Another laugh left him. He was good with a knife, possibly the best with it. But that wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. John knew Chris well enough to know that the man’s decision wasn’t based on how good he was in a fight nor pulling his weight in their missions. So what could the reason be?

The door to the shooting range opened, an exhausted looking Chris stepped into the room. John wondered if this was a moment of fortune or not. To ask the man why?

Chris didn’t pick up a gun, he simply stood there eyeing johns work. Three bullet holes in his mock target, where the chest, neck and head were. His captain nodded approvingly.

The silence that ensued was like a poison. John wanted to ask, but he instead found himself choking on the words. What he managed to get out was nothing he imagined.

“Any luck with Jaene?” His voice strained.

If Chris noticed he didn’t say anything.

“Not really. Claimed Virus X wasn’t actually a virus. More of a performance enhancer. Besides that, nothing else.”

John found himself about to ask what Emma thought of that. Chris seemingly read his mind.

“She’s looking into it.“ He left it at that.

John nodded awkwardly, there wasn’t much more to say now. He hung up his gun on the wall, and started to leave.

“Have you considered my offer?” Chris said, right before John’s hand made contact with the doorknob.

The blonde cursed in his mind, turning to face his captain.

“I have.”

“And?”

“I..I don’t understand why you chose me.” John confessed, averting his gaze.

“I told you why.” Chris said bluntly.

“Yeah and if that’s your criteria then I’m not your only candidate.” John snapped, he forgot himself for a moment. He opened his mouth to apologize but Chris simply raised a hand passing it by.

“You’re right. I haven’t been completely honest with you.” He began, leaning against the wall.

John said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve been at this all my life. I joined the military as soon as I could, and thought I was making a difference. First time I saw a Bio Weapon, all that shattered. Seven years of my life down the drain. So I proposed the P.A.L initiative to the UN. It took a while but with the help of a few others we made it happen. I stepped down from the chance of a high authority seat, sticking to what I was good at. Being a soldier.” As Chris spoke he raised his hands from his side, as if he saw something John didn’t.

“That’s what I’ve been for the past fourteen years. Being a soldier. Mission after mission. Near death after near death. I’ve led many people to a winning battle. Many to death. I’m not getting younger. I know I can’t do this forever.”

John listened intently. His captain spoke true. Sooner or later if this conflict didn’t end soon, it would drag. Chris wasn’t getting younger despite appearances. The limitations of the human body will catch up eventually. Benjamin who wasn’t much older than Chris, often complained about his back on missions.

“Honestly, I see a bit of the old me in you. That’s why I think you could be a good commander.”

With that answer it was all much more clear to John. With a grim smile, he offered his hand.

“Then it’ll be an honor serving as one.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“It’ll also be a curse.” Chris warned.

“I’ll burden it with you.” John took Chris hand, a firm handshake sealing it.

Before they could speak further, their ear pieces were chipped. Emma’s voice sounded through both.

“Captain. John, we need you both in the board room right away. It’s an emergency!” Her voice was laced with panic, the sounds of hurried footsteps and clanging on the other side indicating the seriousness of the situation.

“We’re on our way.” Chris replied, already waking to the door.

John retrieved his gun from the rack, following his captain.

Jaene VII:

Jaene’s interrogator this time around was much more aggressive than Chris, and much more of an idiot. He shouted demanding answers, his voice quickly growing annoying. She ignored his demands, not even glancing at him.

That only pissed the guy off more, his freckled face growing red as he slammed his hands on the desk screaming at her.

“Where’s your fucking base!” His hot breath attacked her face, causing Jaene to back away in disgust. He seemed to mistake this for fear.

“I don’t want to hurt you to get the answers. But I will. So you best tell me or we’ll have to change plans.” His words did little to change her mind, his close proximity making it hard to look away. He was practically leaning over her, the suffocating sensation making her push him with her body. The blow moved him back, but with her hands bound, it did little damage.

His face contorted to that ugly red again, he stomped toward her with his hand outstretched. The door opened, a man in a suit with greying hair stepped inside. Most notable was the scar on his eye. Her interrogator paused, immediately saluting the man.

“Director Serge.” It was humorous seeing his fire die down so quickly.

Jaene found herself tensing hearing the title of director. What could he want with her?

“You’re dismissed Simon.” The director said, taking a seat across from her.

The man left, glaring at Jaene as he did. She couldn’t find the strength to mock him, turning to her new interrogator with interest.

Surprisingly he didn’t demand any answers.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

That certainly wasn’t what she expected. Her eyes blinked rapidly trying to process what she heard. Slowly she nodded in confirmation. She was served some crappy food earlier.

“Not the best but then again it’s a good way to get someone to talk. The promise of real food. Though I suppose that won’t tempt you?” He said, tapping on the metal table.

“No.” Jaene found herself responding.

“Worth a try.” Serge shrugged.

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. He didn’t try to get any answers out of her, making small conversation. Still she didn’t let it soften her. He was still an enemy.

“Your work is most impressive.” Serge said. The compliment was out of the blue.

That certainly wasn’t what she was expecting.

“Emma tested samples of Virus X and Y. Apparently your correction was right. Virus X is in fact not a real virus. It’s a serum. A drug.”

Everything he said she knew already, what was he getting at?

“So why name it Virus X?” He finally asked.

There was the first real question of this meeting.

“It’s easier to pitch to sleaze bags like Eugene. They spread it like wildfire and it serves to our benefit.” She replied almost instantly, cursing herself inside for even humoring the man. Something about him made her comfortable. So much so that she spoke freely. It was odd.

“In that way, it’s sort of is like a virus isn’t it?” Serge rubbed his chin, thinking on her answer.

Silence filled the room once more.

“Chris tells me you believe you’re P.A.L.” Serge said.

“I am P.A.L.” Jaene snapped through gritted teeth.

Serge rose his hands defensively.

“Perhaps you are. Perhaps we’re actually the terrorists. Tell me, how much of your own allegiance do you actually know about? Were you a founder as me and Chris were here?” Serge’s casual tone turned a bit more serious, he leaned forward a bit. His good eye peering into her soul, seeking answers.

Jaene didn’t respond, looking back down into her lap. With a sigh, Serge got up from his seat. He reached for his belt, taking a silver key from it. He unlocked her cuffs, and walked to the door.

“Come on.” He gestured for her to follow.

Jaene rubbed her wrists, not moving an inch. This was a trap. A set up. It had to be.

He looked to her expectantly, not repeating himself.

One step at a time she followed him, he led her through the halls of the base. They were mostly empty the occasional guard glancing to her. There were significantly less guards now than last time she was out of that room.

“This base was created shortly after Chris Moore’s pitch that an organization designed for countering bioterrorism was needed. This was directly after the outbreak in L.A. Fifteen years ago.” Serge looked to her, waiting to see if it clicked just yet. It didn’t.

Jaene furrowed her eyebrows.

“Outbreak?”

“Why yes. The dubbed ‘Rot’ spread quickly before it was eventually contained. Seven hundred thousand dead. It caused the victims to grow delirious, enhancing them physically but making their mind mere mush. They ravaged and killed until they couldn’t anymore. Their bodies eventually rotting. Thus the name.” Serges voice grew downcast as he recalled the events.

Jaene narrowed her eyes hearing this, the symptoms sounding scarily familiar.

“You didn’t watch the news very much? To see the results of your work?” Serge asked innocently.

“That is not my work!” Jaene yelled.

Serge remained unfazed.

“Interesting.” He said.

“I find it odd that the head bioengineer of A.L.F, doesn’t know anything regarding the results of her research. It’s almost an impossible situation.”

“You didn’t found the A.L.F. You’re not the decision maker.” He concluded.

She said nothing, neither confirming nor denying. But he knew the answer.

The director led her back to the interrogation room, cuffing her back to the metal table. Her fists were clenched shut, her shoulders tense.

“There’s a bit of an emergency currently going on. Therefore no one will be questioning you much for a little while. Enjoy your break Jaene.” He said, leaving the room.

Jaene waited several minutes.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Finally, she opened her palm. The skin red from the pressure.

In her palm, was the directors silver key.