February 22, 2007. 7:19 AM. Classified location.
I find myself lying in a bed once again. My shoulders and the sides of my neck feel half-liquified. All I can see is an old ceiling fan lazily spinning above me. I manage to turn my head just enough for my cheek to hit the pillow. My sight is hazy, but I can tell John is sitting at a desk surrounded by boxes of physical files and has Tyrone’s computer hooked up to a projector. A masked medic places an ice cold stethoscope to my chest. A low tone fills my ears like warm wet cotton. If I concentrate, I can hear the low hum of air conditioning and mouse clicking. The room is neither hot nor cold. The ventilation is just good enough to keep it from getting stuffy. I’m more familiar with this room than I am with my own home.
My eyes roll until they lock onto the medic. “Where am I?” I whisper.
The medic continues sliding her stethoscope against my chest. “Will has come to.”
“Ah. Will.” John swivels around in his chair to face me, leans forward, and rests his elbows on his lap. “How are you feeling?”
“How I always feel after a mission…” I try to sit up, but my upper back won’t listen.
“Mm.” John nods with his signature stern face. “You need to be more careful.”
“Yeah… Wasn’t prepared for gas.”
“No one ever is.” John shakes his head.
“Breathe in.” The medic commands.
I follow her orders.
She moves her stethoscope down and to the right. “Out.”
I follow her orders.
She removes her stethoscope and begins filling a syringe with an orange liquid.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Be quiet.” She doesn’t look at me.
I follow her orders.
The medic leans over my shoulder and injects the syringe between my collarbone and my shoulder.
The syringe is hot. Red hot, but it feels like missing chunks of my shoulders are being shot back into me. My vision slowly clears and the tone dissipates from my ears.
“This’ll fix you up.” John assures me. “It's the secret sauce. Remember?”
“Yes.” I lie. “Thank you.”
“Just make sure you don’t go too crazy for a few days. Your body’s still recovering.” John ruffles my hair.
“Recovering…” Memories of the cult compound and Hawk come flooding back into me. I destroyed the base, fought Hawk, found the contraband… then… then…” I can’t remember after that. It's all a blank. “Right… Um… What happened after I fought Hawk?”
“This.” John clicks his mouse and shows a picture of a man who looks similar to him. Looks slightly shorter, less buff, about five years younger, and without any hair loss. “It turns out my brother; David, was behind the whole cult operation… and much much more.”
“Like what?” I ask.
John clicks the mouse again revealing an image of a bizarre round metal device with a plethora of wires jutting out of it. “We discovered this at the compound. It’s an experimental nuke.”
All I can do is grit my teeth, clench my eyes, and sigh.
“Relax. You weren’t contaminated.” John smiles. “It’s a good thing you showed up when you could too. They were planning to test it out tonight.”
“What was going to be the target?”
“Canada.” John nods.
“... Why…?” I slowly muster the strength to sit myself up. “Was your brother mad over them burning the White House?
“Heh. Probably.” That manages to get a chuckle out of John. “But no. This nuke isn’t designed to destroy. It’s designed to be an EMP.”
“What? How’s that work?”
“Long story short, if you explode a nuke hundreds of miles into the air, it doesn’t really hurt people anymore, but it can destroy entire electrical grids. Personal computers, missile defense systems, banking systems, you name it, it's gone.”
“Any idea how big the blast radius would have been?”
“Everything from Toronto to Quebec City.” John glances at a pale yellow folder.
“Geez louise.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why Canada though? Couldn’t he test it somewhere else?”
“He couldn’t test it out in the ocean because he couldn’t get a lot of data on the exact extent of the damage and he couldn’t test it out on an enemy nation without provoking war. Canada was the best pick because he could see the damage and they would have no means of retaliating against us.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I don’t.” John stares at me- disappointed. “He’s my brother. It’s just conjecture.”
“My apologies.” I rub my shoulder. “So when do we bust into the CIA and take him down?”
“We can’t just do that.” John shakes his head. “My brother’s the director of the CIA and everyone there knows that you and I interfered with their little pet project.”
“Okay, then we wait till he leaves and get him then.” I start to feel normal again.
“That’s the problem… He lives in that building. Ever since becoming Director, he hasn’t stepped out of that fortress.”
“Then fine. Just drop me in there. I’ll just keep cutting till I find him.” I clench my fist, but can barely feel my fingers.
“I can’t just do that. That’s tantamount to treason.” John narrows his gaze. “There’s likely fraudulent lawsuits already pending on our heads. Let’s just lay low and fight this in court.”
“And how long will that take?” I want to raise my voice, but my throat still feels slathered in ash. “How many more cults is the CIA going to groom? How many other groups will they arm with nukes while we wait?”
“I understand your concern, Will.” John stands up with his hands sturdy at his sides. “I’m doing this for your sake.”
“What happened to ‘I don’t care who we have to fight’? What happened to my favor?”
“Keeping you alive is your favor.” John stares down at me. I don’t think he’s blinked once since I’ve woken up.
I stand up. “I don’t want to be alive.” I feel something shift in my chest. “I want to help people. I want to keep them safe. I don’t care if it's terrorists, other heroes, or my own government. I will cut down anyone who hurts the weak.”
John simply bows his head. “Taste and see that the lord is good.”
“Blessed is… the one…”
February 23, 2007. 2:14 PM. ???
I awaken in a cabin bedroom tucked in nice and snug in bed. Basic blue sheets. Basic white pillow sheet. One pillow. Standard as standard gets. Small rug. Wooden cabinet. Wooden desk on the other side of the wall. No TV. No outlets. No screens on the windows. Brisk air blows in from the open window across the room. Smells like pine and wet stone, as if it recently rained. I get out of bed and find myself back in the clothes I was wearing at home- plain white t and jeans. They’ve been cleaned and even ironed. I can still smell the detergent. I stumble across the room, open the door, and gaze out into my surroundings. Nothing but other log cabins, trees, and a river in sight. Nobody else appears to be on this island… Yet.
I press behind my ear and can feel the codec inside me. I blink and feel memories flood back into me. John’s not helping me and he sounded like I was let go, but if that was the case, why would I still have my codec? It’s been removed after every other mission. Why not this time? I tune into his frequency just to be sure.
…
…
…
Nothing. No static. No high-pitched tones. I can’t hear anything besides the river flowing and my own heartbeat. Why did John send me here? Is this time out? Is the CIA coming to get us and this is his way of protecting me? I keep staring out into the river waiting for something to happen- waiting for someone to give me orders. Nothing happens… What should I do? What can I do? God knows how many federal agents I just killed. They probably got my apartment staked out… Can’t drink myself into a stupor again either in case John calls.
This silence is unnatural. I do not like it. God, please. Help me…
ring ring
ring ring
My codec starts ringing again.
My finger immediately presses behind my ear. “John?”
“Hello, Angel of Death.” An unidentifiable voice greets me. “How was your nap?” I cannot discern if it is a man’s or a woman’s voice. I cannot guess the age or first language of the speaker either. It possesses no urgency, emotion, or variety in pitch. The only thing it has is purpose. It is a voice completely disembodied from any face, identity, emotion, or location. It doesn’t sound real. “Call me Lily.”
“Who do you work for? Where did you get this frequency?” I walk around the island looking for anyone else. No snipers, soldiers, or radios. The island looks frozen in time from the 1840s.
“That does not matter. All you need to know is I’m on your side.”
“Can you prove that?” I approach the island’s riverbank.
“No.” The voice responds matter of factly. “But it's in your best interest to cooperate with me.”
“Why?”
“We have a common enemy: the feds.”
“...” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Don’t you want to know what happened at that Nation of Jacob compound?” Lily asks. “Don’t you want to know how deep that goes?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I have eyes in many places.”
“Do you now?”
“Nice 32 by 30 jeans.”
My eyes widen and begin darting around the riverbank.
“Do you always wear a plain white t? Surely the Department of Heroes can afford to pay you better.”
“Where are you?”
“Quiet down. You’re scaring the squirrel by your right foot.”
I glance down and see a squirrel standing beside my right foot. It looks up at me with round brown eyes and rotund cheeks stuffed with… something. “Gosh dangit…” I rub my temple.
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“I suggest you hurry up. The feds are going to find you eventually.”
“...” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”
“Look under your bed.”
I head back into my cabin and do just that. My bamboo sword, a helmet with a flashlight affixed to it, and a backpack are lying under there. I also find a trapdoor handle beside an old blanket.
“Move the bed and open the trap door.” The voice commands.
I move the bed over after much trial and error and open the trapdoor to find nothing but wet soil underneath. “Now what?”
“Burrow under the island. I will tell you when to stop.”
I don the hat, turn on the light, sharpen my blade and start carving a hole. The soil and bedrock break into mere dust as if I were using a massive industrial drill. “Why?”
“The CIA is coming after you. Better to bring the fight to them. You’ll be burrowing under the Potomac River to the CIA headquarters.”
“And then… what? Am I just supposed to murder everyone in that building?”
“No. You would be slaughtered in under two minutes. You’ll be sneaking in.”
“How? They know my face and-”
“William Lloyd Cruz. Just listen to me. Both of our lives will be a lot easier if you just listen to me.”
The voice feels like it's laying on my chest. “Understood.” I continue digging and drilling.
“Stop. Turn 180 degrees and begin drilling a horizontal hole.”
“Understood.” I follow Lily’s orders. “When do I stop?”
“When I tell you to.”
I nod and keep drilling. “But what is the plan?”
“I’ve procured a full suit, ID badge, and face mask of a CIA employee who had to take a temporary ‘leave of absence’. You’ll use that to infiltrate the building and find information on two things: the weapon you found at the compound and any other info regarding “national security” plans.
“Why national security?”
“Something bad is coming. Something big. We need to be prepared for anything the government could throw at us.”
“What makes you say that? Do you have a foresight tech?”
“Of course not. Let’s just call it an educated guess.”
“You’re making me break into the CIA HQ all for an educated guess?”
“All of human history is defined by guesses. Some educated- some not.”
“So why should I go with your guess?”
“Do you have any other better ideas?”
“...” I keep digging and digging until I come across a wall and some pipes. “Lily, I’ve located a wall and some pipes. Advise.”
“Change into your disguise then cut your way in. There should be a janitor’s closet on the other side of the wall. There will be a USB in the bag as well. Use that to store any good data you can find. If things get hectic, I encourage you to snag any hard drives you can carry on the way out.”
“Where do I need to go?” I change into the black suit and tie disguise and find it fits perfectly.
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Don’t have any eyes in there?”
“I did. He died. I assume they changed the interior layout afterwards.”
“Then how do you know there’s a janitor’s closet here?”
“I said there should be. Only one way to find out.”
“So I’m going in blind?”
“Indeed, but you’re used to that.”
“...” I cannot argue with her. I fix my tie, cut a hole through the wall, and find a janitor’s closet. Soap bucket, mop, small hose affixed to the wall, bottles of cleaning solution, dirty floor, dirtier locker. “You were right.”
The voice sighs and I hear a small modicum of relief. “Very good. I’ll keep you updated on anything you need to know.”
“Roger.” I exit the janitor’s closet and find myself in a dank dimly lit basement. It smells like rotten cleaning solution. The floor is sticky. The walls are lined with cobwebs and things covered in black tarps. The only exit is an elevator in the corner of the room.
Push the call button, wait 20 seconds, and an empty elevator opens. I manage to go up to the second floor without incident. The doors open again to reveal… a perfectly normal office. Rows upon rows of cubicles, watercooler, coffeemakers. Everyone is dressed in suits and ties. I hear some light chatter, phones ringing, and people typing on computers. It looks and sounds more like a call center than the CIA HQ. Where should I even begin? I can’t just ask people where I can find key data… and judging by the age of this badge, I don’t think I can use the “It’s my first day” excuse either.
“Heya, Tom.” Someone taps me on the shoulder. “How was the weekend?”
I turn to my left to face a man. A normal looking man. 5’9. Dark brown hair. Dark brown eyes. Textbook suit. Standard gelled hair. His voice cannot be described as low or high. It is not robotic- he seems like the goofy best friend character one would see in a popular but bland sitcom. Everything about this man is average. He manages to blend into the background even when I stare right at him.
I blink and try to think of my weekend. Nothing comes up. Every weekend for the last two years has been a blur. No. Blurs are too defined. Blurs have some color. There is some information one can obtain from a blur. It’s like these weekends never happened. “Ah, nothing too exciting. Mostly just housework and some reading.” I shrug my shoulders. “What about yours?”
The man smiles and wraps his arm around me. “I’ll tell ya, but uh… in the bathroom.” He starts leading me down the hallway. He doesn’t appear to be dangerous. Yet. It’s likely he already suspects me. That being said, we arrive in the men’s room after just 20 seconds of walking. Upon entering, the man rushes over to the urinal.
ziiiip
The man tilts his head back and sighs.
As long as I’m here… I take the urinal next to him and relieve myself as well.
The man glances past the barrier and down at me. “Jesus Christ! Didn’t know you were packing a monster!! How do you walk with that thing?”
I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from warning him to not use the Lord’s name in vain. “Do you comment on all of your coworkers’ junk?”
“No, just-” The man zips his pants back up and heads over to the sink. “Sorry.” He starts washing his hands. “I was just trying to be nice.” The man glances at me through the sink mirror then looks down at his hands. He appears flustered.
“Don’t worry about it.” I flush the urinal and turn around to face him, making sure to keep some distance just in case. “So what did you want to talk about?”
The man dries his hands before putting them behind his back. He didn’t have a holster… might be planning to shoot me with some kind of tech. “Where’s Tom?”
“...” I furrow my brow and tilt my head. “What do you mean? I’m right he-”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” He points his finger at me. I can see electricity arcing off of his fingertip. “I know Tom’s cock better than anyone! Where is he?!”
I glance at the corner of the ceiling above him. Sure enough, there’s a security camera peering right at us. “Calm down. I just got a lengthening procedure done. There’s a doctor in Maryland with a growth Tech. She can make anything shrink or grow.” I lie.
“You liar! Tom would never do that to me! He knows I love his petite dick!”
Lily snickers in my ear.
“He’s fine.” I assure the man. “Don’t worry.”
“LIAR!!!” The man yells at the top of his lungs and fires a bolt of lightning at me.
I dodge under it, sharpen my arm, and dash towards him.
The man fires two more shots.
Dodge left, dodge right, raise my arm and-
slice
Enter through the ribcage, exit through the tip of the pelvis. The man’s upper half slides off his torso and collapses, still twitching on the floor. His fingers start arcing lightning in every direction.
I hide in the stall and feel the average temperature of the room start to increase rapidly. The stalls begin to vibrate with voltage, but at least the camera gets zapped and is now malfunctioning. I’m now drenched in blood again and standing on the toilet seat waiting for the lighting storm to stop. I keep waiting for John to ask me “Where do you stand?”, but it never happens. “Lily. Please advise.” My chest begins to tremble.
“Kill everyone before they kill you.” She replies devoid of all hatred and malice.
I know I should be sprinting out of here and killing everything that moves. I’ve done it more times than I can count… So why is it so hard this time? My body refuses to move. All I can do is cower on the toilet seat while lightning engulfs the bathroom.
Fortunately, the electric storm eventually dies down… but the bathroom becomes caked in a crimson light and a familiar alarm.
BWOOOOOOOOOO
BWOOOOOOOOOO
BWOOOOOOOOOO
“Don’t worry about casualties.” Lily assures me. “I’ll take full responsibility. Best of luck. I will begin arranging evac plans. Until then, do what you must to survive.”
My body keeps expecting something that never arrives. The siren never gets quieter. My body never feels lighter. Feels like a bear is sitting on my chest. I hear footsteps of machines and people start to crowd around the door. This feels… different. This feels out of my control. Even with Lily’s reassurances, I feel alone. God forgive me. Guide my blade even though I do not deserve it. I run my hands all over my body save for my feet, put my arms in front of my face, and sprint through the stall walls, through the bathroom wall, and out the door. I can hardly see anything due to the intense alarm light and the blood in my eyes. All I can make out are vague movements and even more vague shapes. I hear a bunch of noise, but none of it is distinct. Lots of splattering, yelling, and explosions. It’s so loud it hurts… Why does it only hurt now? What’s different? What’s happening to me?
I keep running through people, machines, desks, and computers… but all of them feel like I’m running through tissue paper laced with salsa. Bone, metal, blood, doesn’t matter. It’s all mush to my skin. The more I run, the quieter the room becomes. After ten minutes of visual and audio chaos, everything is silent. I rub the viscera and other body fluids that used to be solids from my eyes and look around the second floor. The entire office looks dissolved. Metal, wooden, flesh. I’m the only thing still in one piece here. Every step I take is accompanied by squelches and splats. I swear parts of the ground are still twitching and writhing. It looks like hell. It’s good I’m getting used to it while I’m still alive. Were all of these people combatants? Were they fleeing? I’ll never know. All I can do is pray they were attacking me. I wander through the second floor looking for any data I can find. Nothing. All of the harddrives are either soaked in blood or sliced beyond repair. I look out through one of the windows through some blinds and find a completely normal city street… Everyone outside is completely unaware of the chaos inside. Understandable. They would not want the chaos to escape into the streets. That being said, I do see some security standing outside the front door. I don’t know if they’re trying to keep me in or keep others out.
An intercom crackles to life. “William Lloyd Cruz, William Lloyd Cruz.” John’s voice rings from the intercom. “Please report to the roof before I fill the place with gas.”
I locate a staircase and start booking it upstairs as fast as I can. I find some soldiers wielding high frequency blades and flame throwers on the way up, but dispatch them. They put up a decent fight and got some good hits in, but nothing else notable to report. If you’ve seen one bisection, you’ve seen them all. After half an hour of fighting, I reach the roof of the building and find two men fighting each other: John and a man who looks eerily similar to John. Both of them have similar suits, but John has a blue tie and the other one has a red tie. The John doppelganger also has a bit more of a receding hairline, a butt chin, and a mole over his right eyebrow. That being said, his doppelganger is by no means hideous. He possesses every ounce of charisma that John does. He also sounds just like him. For two men well into their 50s, they’re throwing good punches and taking them rather well.
Both of them are yelling over each other, but their body language remains as calm and calculated as ever. Meanwhile, I’m out of breath, leaving behind a gooey blood trail wherever I go, and feel ready to vomit at any moment. “JOHN!!!” I yell and almost feel my trachea turn inside out.
Both of them stop, let go of each other, and turn to me. John’s eyes water and his cheeks soften. It's the first time I’ve almost cried in his presence. The other one smiles and claps his hands.
“Will?!” John yells. “What are you doing here?!”
“I… I…” I feel my throat swell. “I wanted to finish the mission. I wanted to help.”
“How the hell did you even get here?!” John’s voice makes my skin shrivel.
“Do not mention me.” Lily demands.
“L-lily helped me.” I respond.
“Who is Lily?!” John raises his voice.
“Y-you didn’t send her?” I feel like my eyeballs are about to pop out of my face.
“Most intriguing.” The other John fixes his tie and extends his hand. “My name’s David Eagleburger, director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Pleasure to meet you, son.”
“Will.” John shoves David’s hand away. “Wait downstairs. We’ll discuss this la-”
I raise my bladed arm. “I’m not leaving until I get some answers. David, why is the CIA after me? Why’s the CIA grooming terrorists and arming cults?”
“I need funding to make the world safer.” David extends his hand further out towards me, still expecting a handshake.
“Bullshit.” I spit blood out of my mouth. “Just answer me.”
David stretches his arm 10 feet across the roof like a cartoon character. His perfectly manicured hand is mere inches away from me. “It’s only proper to shake hands and introduce yourself before you start cussin’ and making threats.”
I cut his hand off.
“AAAAH!!” His noodley arm flails as he shrieks, but no blood comes out. “My… HAND!!!” A new hand slides up from his wrist and replaces the old one. “Just kidding.” He chuckles and extends his hand back to me. “Now put her there!”
I cut his hand off again.
Another new hand slides into place. “Ouchie.” David’s smile grows.
I cut it off again.
Another hand grows, this time accompanied by a party horn sound effect and confetti. “Need a hand?” David asks.
I cut it off again.
“You’re looking pretty handsy there.” David’s grotesque grin grows wider every time I cut off his hand. “Is that what your generation’s into?”
Chop.
New hand appears and flips me off.
Chop.
New hand appears and it waggles its index finger.
Chop.
New hand curled up in a fist. The fist opens up to reveal a miniature David doing the sprinkler dance on the palm.
Chop.
A new hand that has smaller hands for fingers appears.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
I chop three dozen times and am now surrounded by comically large piles of hands.
“Will.” John sighs. “Just stop playing with him. You won’t get any answers from him.”
“Then what are you doing here?” I ask.
“Trying to save you.” John’s eyes harden.
I feel a lump in my chest.
“You don’t know that.” Lily whispers in my ear. “Don’t let him guilt you into anything.”
“Tell ya gentlemen what.” David retracts his cartoon limb. “If you work with me, I’ll tell ya everything you wanna know and more.”
“Or you could tell me now before I kill you.” I threaten.
“Would you really do that before I tell you what really happened in Fallujah?” David’s smile is extending past his ears.
My teeth grit. “What do you know?!”
“He doesn’t, Will.” John insists. “He’s just toying with you. Don’t listen to him.”
“How many boys have you conned with that line, brother?” David’s eyes flash over to John.
John lowers his arms, but presses his middle finger and thumb together.
David rolls his sleeve up and checks a watch that’s been drawn into his wrist. “Well, boys. It’s been a pleasure, but I need to get going. Time waits for no man.” David reaches into his pocket and takes out a business card and something that looks like a black piece of fabric. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He tosses a business card to me.
I catch it.
John just stands there… for some reason. Is he planning something? Is he thinking of a way out? What is his gambit? He has to have a backup plan for this. He always does.
David unrolls the black fabric and plops it onto the roof in front of him. The fabric looks like a bottomless hole you’d see in old cartoons “As for you two, have fun with the boys downstairs.” He pulls out a walkie talkie from behind his back. “You’re good to go.” David puts the walkie talkie behind his back and it disappears. “Ciao.” He jumps into the black fabric and disappears. The hole closes behind him and vanishes without a trace.
John relaxes his fingers and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“My apologies.” I stuff the card in my pocket.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” John sighs before looking out into the horizon. “How are we going to get out of here though?”
I look in the same direction and see a U.S. army helicopter start flying towards us. “Fight our way out?”
“I would prefer not killing Americans.” John approaches the staircase.
“Wait here.” Lily speaks to me. “There’s an evac helicopter on its way to you. They’ll keep you safe.”
The helicopter lands on the helipad and John and I get inside. It’s piloted by a man in a mask and thick body armor. He acknowledges our presence and waves, but says nothing otherwise.
Some projectiles get shot and slung at us on our way out, but we manage to escape just fine.