Chapter 51

The Games Played

“Y-yeah, it’s me,” Elijah spoke softly into the phone that Michael handed him. It was a secured one–though he could have had his men track the number on the other end, for the time being, he elected to play along. “No, they didn’t. Ah-uh. Y-yeah. Okay.” After a few more words, Elijah handed over the phone to Michael.

“Hello. This is Michael,” he said.

"So, you're the poor sack who's curious?" The voice on the other wasn't that of a young man, but neither was it of an old one. Contrary to Michael's assumptions, which put the man in his late forties to early fifties, he instead sounded to be in his thirties, at most. His voice, glazed with playfulness and even a touch of disbelief, bled through the phone and into silence as Michael adjusted himself a bit.

“... I am. Curious, I mean.” Michael said. “I thought ourselves better than sending children to fight our battles. I guess I was wrong.”

“What can I do? The child in question was begging me.”

“... I’m sure he was.” Michael responded.

“Huh. You’re quite clever,” the man said, sounding somewhat surprised. “Just how high up the chain did the young blood manage to scream?”

“... are you asking me for my rank?”

“I’m more curious about the kid’s pull, to be honest.”

“The kid had nothing to do with it,” Michael said, leaning back slightly. “A single child cannot move a General, not even his own.”

“Hiuuu,” the man whistled on the other end for a moment. “A General? A whole-ass General? Damn. Things must not be as bad as I thought, then, if a General has time to chat nonchalantly with the poor old me.”

“Things are fine,” Michael said. “Which is why I will have to refuse your proposal.”

“Hmm? You sure? I think you guys are getting a good deal.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Are you worried about what my true intentions are?”

“...”

"You've pegged parts of me correctly, it seems," the man chuckled, as though bemused by the thought that a General of the U.S. Army was thinking about him extensively. "The kid's all heart and soul, but I'm more cold and pragmatic. I'm not above saving some lives, however. But I'd prefer not to do it for free."

“... I’m still waiting for your honesty.”

"I can't give it to you, Mr. General," the man said somewhat dismissively. "Not only would it mean fuck-all to you even if I did explain, but more importantly, I don't wanna. I find that this level of distrust between us is the perfect equilibrium for a temporary relationship."

“An imaginative one, I assure you.”

“Here’s one very simple truth for you, Mr. General,” the man said confidently. “You’ll either form that relationship today, or a couple of months from now. To me, it doesn’t matter. To you, though, it’s the matter of saving the city… or even just having a city to save.”

“Bold words,” Michael said. “Sweeping claims like those are usually not made by people who can be trusted.”

"I never said I could be trusted, though? Of course I can't. You'd be a moron to trust me. I killed four of your men, and stole a whole bunch of your supplies–and yes, that time with the mart wasn't the only one, believe it or not–not to mention my devil-may-care attitude that doesn't mesh well with the military. But the flamboyancy aside," the man's tone suddenly changed from that of a playful soul to a rather apathetic one, one seemingly void of care for anything. Divorced from the reality itself. "I may have led the boy toward certain conclusions, but his wants are his. I would have never approached you if he hadn't insisted. Yes, I may have given him a story that was likely to spur him in that direction, but I'm not a God. I can't control what he feels and wants.

"You're curious about me–curious about what I know, how strong I am, and how much of an unpredictable variable I can become to you and your people. On the other hand, I don't give a shit about you. I don't care how strong you are, what you know, and what you want. To me, you're a distant voice on the phone that I'll forget by tomorrow. You've realised it by now–the military, as-is, has no future in this world. It might not happen today, tomorrow, or a month from now, but in due time, it will go up in flames. A new system, for better or for worse, will replace it, one heralded by monsters and saviours alike."

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“And let me guess–you can help?”

“I could,” the man said. “But I won’t. I’ve given you enough of me so that you can understand what kind of a man I am. Whether you arrive at the right conclusion… well, who knows?”

“And what about the kid?” Michael pushed a bit further, glancing at the boy. “You do realise his father will never let him leave.”

“Well, it’s simple,” the man said. “If the kid wants to leave, make sure he leaves.”

“... and in case I don’t?”

"I will kill you." The words were spoken softly, and yet Michael felt it–fear. Somehow, some way, a bullet of fear was shot into his heart and he shuddered ever for a second. "The kid's gonna wanna stay, though, to ensure we work things out. He's stubborn like that, I'm afraid," the man quickly added in such a contrasting tone that Michael was certain it was two separate people on the phone. "I'll be expecting your phone call, Mr. General. Talk to you soon."

The line was cut and yet Michael couldn’t put the phone down from his ear. It was almost ten seconds later that he put his hand down, his brows furrowed in a frown. His eyes, inevitably, glanced over at Elijah–the boy’s cheeks were red and his lips were curled ever so slightly into an apologetic smile. Though the boy didn’t hear their conversation, it was as though he knew. No, he did know. After all, of all the people, Elijah was the only one who met the man face to face.

“He just told me he’d kill me if we kept you here against your will,” Michael spoke outright.

“Uh… I’m sorry. He’s… he can be, uh, annoying. And blunt.”

“I don’t care for that. I do care, though, if he was serious. Rather–do you think he’d be able to kill me? In the midst of a military base?”

“... honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“While half-asleep, probably,” Elijah rubbed the tip of his nose in embarrassment, looking away. “I… I know it sounds stupid and insane and impossible. But… I, I know he could. N-not that he would! I–I wouldn’t let him!”

Michael's frown deepened. His curiosity about the man, the one thought he'd satiate by talking with him, only grew. The man was not ex-military, though, or special forces. Which made the entire thing even more confusing.

He couldn't help but sigh inwardly as he leaned back on his chair. Was it a bluff? Was this all just a bluff? Maybe. Maybe it was a game that the boy and the man played. But for what purpose? What could they possibly gain through this? The man already expressed that he had ulterior motives in sending the boy over and asking for access to the live feed. The boy seems to believe that the man would be able to identify the monster disguised as a human which was why he asked for access to live feed. There was a disconnect between them, a deep gash that divided their intentions, but Michael wasn't certain he could trust it.

The entire thing was veiled in a thick layer of unknowable. How did the man, armed with effectively children alone, manage to go into one of those portals and come out when squadrons of extremely well-trained soldiers never managed to get out? What made the boy so confident in the man’s ability to infiltrate the high-security military compound and assassinate one of the highest-ranking officers in the entire nation? Was it that the man Awakened to some particularly strong stealth class? Perhaps. However, Michael doubted it. Men like that, he knew, did not do well dancing in the shadows. They needed to bask in the sun, even if they got sunburned.

“I’ll think about it, for now,” Michael said. “I assume you’ll stay?”

“... y-yes,” Elijah nodded. “I’ll stay, for now.”

“... we’ll talk again, Elijah,” Michael said, standing up and leaving.

Max and Sarah waited for him nervously on the other side, but as they saw that he emerged unhurt, they breathed a sigh of relief. Max saluted him and went back inside to see Elijah while Sarah joined Michael on their journey back to the base.

“What did the boy say?” Sarah asked impatiently as soon as they stepped into the glass-tinted SUV.

“Interesting things,” Michael replied vaguely. Though he trusted Sarah, it was not for her to know the musings of his inner mind. He couldn’t share the knowledge of the man with anyone, not just yet, not until he’s had the chance to learn more about him. Whatever he has and will learn, however, stung–as they were the things the man explicitly allowed him to learn.

One thing was for certain, however–the man knew something that Michael, and likely even the boy, didn’t. That something was what made him certain that, one way or another, at one point in time, Micahel would reach out to him for help. What kind of help? Why of all people him while Michael had the weight of the U.S. Military backing him? There was no way of knowing. Sarah didn't persist in her questions, instead choosing to change the subject.

"The last bit of equipment for the lab arrives today," she said. "Our initial testing should begin over the weekend."

“Good,” Michael nodded. “Make sure everyone knows that it is voluntary and that they are under no obligation to provide us with intimate knowledge of their Classes.”

“Certainly, Ser.”

“Are you satisfied with yours? Class, I mean?” Michael asked.

“Hmm, mostly,” she said as she extended her hand out ever so slightly, palm-up. The veins on her forearm throbbed for a moment as a singular hole appeared at the centre of her palm through which a tiny creature crawled out. Michael still couldn’t quite get used to the sight despite having seen it several times already. “It doesn’t hurt to summon it anymore. It does hurt, though, if I exhaust it too much. It feeds without caring how it impacts me.”

“Any new functionality besides the neutraliser and the truth serum function?”

“None yet, Ser. I will learn more about it in the upcoming trials.”

"Hm." Michael acknowledged with a hum and a nod. It was a perverse little thing, that purple, blood-stained glob that lived in her veins. Then again, in some ways, so was Michael. Classes, in quite a few cases, seemed to modify a human being so much it begged the question if they were even human still.