---
*Heartbeat, Heartbeat.* My life feels like a slippery waterfall slowly slipping down the slope of fate...
My fated and unnatural eyes look around the transport vehicle, full of my brothers in arms, ready to ambush the communist organization known as “The Circle of Public Commune.” Pssh, like that vanilla name is going to hide the fact they are clearly commie shills, I think. I open my mouth and say, “My eye lens can even see through the BS they spurt, most likely backed by the Russians, eh?”
My fellow soldier, 4th man Conway, responds, “You know, Aorra, you can see a lot of things with those eyes. You really are the ‘golden boy,’ eh?”
I look at him and say, “M’kay, you don’t have to say that, Conman. We all have some type of inhuman trait.”
He then says, “Con... what? You ain’t gotta respond like that either!”
I let off a little smirk, thinking to myself, Why the hell did PIECS send us to shut this down without giving us at least some case files to give me something to work with? But my head says they obviously are shills, so “Fuck it, let’s go in and shut those communists down.” I grab my rifle and make sure it’s in working order. I look up to my unfortunate 2nd in command, Calin Jefferson, the red-haired, eternal bug on my back every time I even acknowledge his existence. But I need him for today.
“Hey, Cal,” I mutter.
His dark brown eyes look up at me and seem to glitter with excitement, his smile deepening with a bit of maddening intensity. “What’s up, Spot!” he grins. “You really need little ole me? Don’t you kinda hate our little dynamic we have?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Yes, I do... Lizzy! So don’t call me Spot anymore. You always remind me of my eyes, so I’m gonna talk about your weird chameleon thing.”
Calin then starts to make a stupid, fake, sad look on his face as his skin and hair turn blue. “Ah, look at what you did! You gotta apologize now, Reed.”
I look at him, chills running down my spine. “Gah! Whenever you do that, it freaks me out still. It even freaks me out worse that I can see into your brain but can’t figure you out ten percent of the time.”
He looks at me and scoots over. “You should know my genes a bit more through just your eyes.”
I look at him and suddenly get extremely sweaty, gritting my teeth. Don’t you dare say anything else! We then look at our PIECS team staring at us two, bickering. I clear my throat, put my magazine in my rifle, and refer to my state of mind. *The water from the edge starts to pour slowly.* Then I wipe the sweat from my face. I get up and tell everyone, “We are essentially the youngest task force in PIECS in the whole country, from Alaska all the way down to Central America. We can help our country take back the world from the deceitful clutches of communism!”
I start to expound more, “We have been chosen as the first fully genetically modified district group in this country, so we must live up to everything this flag has done to create us...” I look up at the flag, a wide and pristine banner with many white stars all around forming a circle in the middle, with stripes streaking in the background. I look up at it in respect, thinking back about our situation as a nation.
Long ago, when the cursed nationalist Germany invaded and conquered France and the Benelux after they signed the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact in late 1939, eventually the Soviets and the Germans would go to war. With the help of the allies, the Soviets fully pushed back the Germans into capitulation, gaining influence over the majority of Europe. So with the loss of one enemy, the rise of another one came to be. Then the great former president Richard Forthan took office in our great country and decided to stamp out the spread of their ideals, incorporating southern America into the fold, starting PIECS—the Political Interior and Exterior Covert Services—which gave birth to us.
I feel the transport vehicle come to a stop. I breathe, turn on my comms, and relay to HQ, “We are closing in and engaging them. I will attempt cordial talks at first.”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
The comms responder, whom I refer to as “Comma Comms” due to his monotonous tone, replies, “Very well, be careful not to be fooled by those communists. They should be totally stamped out.”
I nod and tell my squad to stand back by the entrance, letting me, Conway, and Calin represent PIECS. I get out with them, locked and ready to go in. Conway looks back at Calin. “Hey, blooded hair, let’s try not to be so punishing. Maybe they technically aren’t doing anything illegal.”
Calin looks at Conway and says, “Haha! You two are really on an opposite plane, but nah, you a noob. I’m at least not a teenager.”
I look back at them and say, “We’re just a year younger than you.”
He retorts, “Still the original though.”
I interject, “Let’s just go in.”
I start to walk with them up to the center, looking up to see a red flag with a yellow sickle and hammer with stars across the top strip, the modern architecture standing upright like their ideals in the world. However, the skyscrapers of the surrounding city stand even further over their heads. A middle-aged man opens the door and looks at us, holding the door open. “Ah, I expected you all to come here. Let’s have a talk.”
I nod and walk in with my weapon down but ready at a moment’s notice. I look the man up and down with my eyes, seeing through his clothes to check for any weapons. All I see are pens in his pockets and some miscellaneous items. I keep walking in, looking for any irregular heat signatures. The man comes up to us and interrupts my focus, so I blink my eyes to try to adjust to normal again.
“Welcome to the Circle of Public Commune. My name is Alexander Kinfield! We know your organization might have some suspicions about us, but we are a group of righteous individuals following the rules of the American party system,” he says.
I look at him and reply, “Alexander, you know if you have any dealings with the Soviets or any non-American communist governments, you all will be imprisoned, correct? I’m not exactly the easiest to fool.”
He looks at us and then shakes his head. “Of course, I understand you are a very trained and talented individual. That’s why I wanted to sit down with all of you.”
Conway nods and starts to sit, but then Calin whispers to him, “Dude, get up,” and he nods nervously and gets up again. I roll my eyes and tell the man, “We have gotten reports of this ‘party’ having connections through France’s feeble communist party. Let’s be honest, it’s a totally compromised country with the Soviets literally on their border. That man Henri is a traitor to western ideals.”
The man chuckles and says, “No, no, no, they are totally fine. Of course, we will take a bit of inspiration from the biggest communist country in the world. It’s nothing deeper than a mere surface level.” Inside my mind, I start to raise an eyebrow because his heart isn’t really showing signs of intense beating due to stress. He even has a heart rate of about 70 bpm. Strange.
I then ask him, “Why is your voice out of everything you could tie yourself to... this? Proxy wars all over the world... our citizens are getting drafted and sent to defend our world from you.”
The man looks down at the ground and then up at me. “I want a fair society where everyone receives a fair share of the feast. We wish for the days when no longer a man can own a whole structure spiraling into the sky while a man on the street can’t even wish for a dime. And, well, I suppose when you mention that, who is really responsible for the initiation of the draft? Who sends for the supplies and the warships? Maybe it’s inside you need to look?”
I grit my teeth in anger and shake my head to shake off my emotions. The man then looks at me and smiles. “Maybe you should have a drink to chill off? I’ll have my assistant make you one. What do you like for your tea?”
I shrug and say, “Despite anything you can say, we are still checking this entire place for any potential compromises in national security.”
I turn and tell Conway and Calin to move throughout the building and to call in most of the others outside. I look to my right and see one of my upper-rank comrades. She looks up at me and asks, “So, R, you got this man to admit his involvement with the Russians yet?”
I say, “It’s an ongoing investigation. T, why’d you walk over here? You should be sear—”
I’m interrupted when she points to a young-looking assistant walking up to me and handing me a cup of tea. I look at them, nod, and say, “Thanks.”
Forthan then looks at his assistant and says, “You’ve really been a great assistant to me...” (I look down at my cup using my eyes to inspect it.) he continues “...ever since I raised you from that horrible...” (I start to notice something off.) “...home you—” **“HEY!”** I jerk my eyes towards my comrade as she raises her arm and I hear three booming noises. *POP POP POP.* I look as I see the assistant’s head basically fall off, painting the nearby walls and Forthan’s suit like a horror show. I then look at her and see her raised SIG pistol in her hand, smirking, and Forthan looking in horror.
She then looks at me. “That assistant had slipped some type of very small grainy substance in your drink.. probably ricin” She states so nonchalantly.
I open my eyes wide and wipe my face. “You would have noticed that with your special eyes if you weren’t so hardened up trying to be so by-the-book,” she says.
I slowly give off a small smirk. “Damn... you know I have an almost impenetrable bodily system, right?”
She responds, “You thought I didn’t know?”
Suddenly, Conway walks back into the front of the center and shouts, “WOOHOOO! TRIGGER HAPPY TIFF BACK AT IT AGAIN!”
---