The dawn was yet to come and I was already on my feet. Today was an important day for me, so I took my shower early and put on my suit. It was the same one I used as a teacher, unfortunately I didn’t have time to buy new clothes. Before I headed outside, I did as I was told.
“Molly.”
“Hello, Mister Montgomery.”
“Do you have something for me?”
“I do.
Disguised Resurrection (N/A) / (I)
Bought by Agent Francis Orion Carruthers.
Being an agent might be a risky business depending on the field you might pursue. Thinking about increasing safety, disguised resurrection is a must when it comes to survival. The enhancement can be triggered in a life or death situation. In case you get incapacitated, your body enters a hibernation state. During this state your body will show all signs of death while your regenerative skills are enhanced four fold, stabilizing any critical injuries. The healing effect is currently set as automatic, the disguise effect is turned off by default.
Would you like to install (Y/N)?”
Frank is definitely delivering on his promises. “I would, thanks Molly.”
“You’re welcome.
System is installing Disguised Resurrection enhancement...
Disguised resurrection has been installed.
The enhancement will be fully operational in four hours and forty three seconds.”
It was hard to not get attached to Molly since she was giving me so many gifts. I chuckled. “Molly, Molly, Molly. My robot friend.” It took six point three seconds for Molly to respond.
“Archnet is just an interface, Agent Montgomery, but I am an Erinnerungian. I am not a human being, but I am not just an AI either.”
With my mouth hanging open, I struggled to form an apology. “I am… I am sorry, Molly. I just assumed…”
“Don’t worry. It is the 324th time that this assumption was made about me.”
I asked myself why she didn’t bring this up sooner, just letting people think she was not a living organism. It didn’t seem to matter in the grand scheme of things, so I refrained from pursuing this line of a question. Not much to be gained.
“Please call me, Ern.”
“Sure thing, Ern.”
Turning the doorknob, I stepped outside. I was ready to go, but David’s advice came to mind. Turning around, I went back to find my pistol. Right there I realized the awkward situation I was in. I didn’t want to put this thing in my belt even if I could attach it properly with a holster. Already impinging in our recent relationship, I asked for advice.
“Molly, can you provide a more practical way to carry my pistol?”
“There are several ways to disguise your firearm. Would a shoulder carry suffice?”
“That will be perfect, Molly.”
“The cost of a shoulder carry is eight golden years. Would you like to make the purchase (Y/N)?
“Why… what? Golden years?” I asked, disbelief ringing clear in my voice.
“Time is one of the symbols of the Orion Branch. Golden years is just the name of the currency. You have six hundred golden years in your account.”
“Can’t I pay with regular money?”
“I am afraid not. Nothing manufactured from The Company can be bought with foreign currency.”
“Is eight golden years a lot?”
“A trivial amount, Ern.”
I accepted her offer and the shoulder carry appeared out of thin air, already placed under my jacket and over my shoulders. Putting the gun on the holster, I was ready for my first day at work.
----------------------------------------
One hour, six minutes and forty four seconds, that is how long it took for me to reach one of the subsidiaries from the American Legionnaires. The main base was all the way up in the mountains, a place made in the shape of a hollow steel dome personally created by one of the most prominent architects in the world. The cream of the crop met there, but I was small fry, so I was “stationed” in a small office.
The place wasn’t anything fancy, the decoration very neutral, minimalist even. One or two plants here and there in grey vases. I infiltrated the facilities completely unbothered, an overworked receptionist told me where I needed to go. My identification was requested and dismissed in the blink of an eye. It was hard to believe that one of the most prestigious institutions in the world couldn’t afford something better.
The elevator reached the seventh floor, a loud ding reminded me to step out. As the door closed behind me, I could hear someone arguing right into the office where my first meeting was supposed to take place.
Approaching it carefully, I saw a man with his back turned away from me. All I could see was his dress shirt and the back of his head. Circling around, I was able to understand what was happening.
“You should keep your mouth shut when I tell you to keep your mouth shut!” The gentleman in question had deep crimson hair that apparently matched his temperament. His handsome face was constricted in anger as he kicked a young woman, her back hitting the wall with a thud. She was out of breath trying to say something between gasps.
“Not my…” she said.
The man repeated with a mocking tone. “Not…” A second kick in her arm. “My…” He stomped her head. “What?” he shouted. Face seventy five centimeters from the woman. Her black hair was already wet from the blood gushing freely from her brow.
A tall woman using a dress suit stood motionless watching the scene. She seemed at ease despite the violence taking place in front of her eyes. Her voice even as she pleaded to the young maniac. “O’Brien, please. Are you going to send her to a hospital like the previous one?” Her mouth was a thin line. The one she called O’Brien couldn’t be older than twenty five.
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Everything about that scene made my skin crawl. Was this my first test? What are the odds that I’m faced with such a scenario on my first day at work? I guessed fifty-fifty between me being evaluated or this being a real situation. There wasn’t enough information for me to go on, so I figured that I would have to gamble here. I pushed my chips into the middle of the pot, let's see what the river will bring.
“Stop this right now. Let the lady go,” I demanded firmly yet politely.
O’Brien’s head snapped back, eyeing me up and down. “Shut up, Grandpa!” he snarled, going back to business. Another kick quickly followed.
He couldn't be reasoned to. With no other options available, I unbuttoned my jacket and reached for my pistol. As my hand rustled through my shirt, the maniac saw my movement, even though it shouldn’t be possible. He bolted towards my direction, showing an unhuman display of speed.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. My fingers gripped the revolver, the steel begging to be used as he threw everything aside, desks and chairs flying through the air. The distance was halfened in the blink of an eye. I tried to pull the gun out of the holster, but to my absolute terror, the pistol wouldn’t budge. Panic set in my heart. Only a single meter between us. I yanked it again and the gun was still stuck. I tried a third time and finally I managed to get it free. O’Brien took it from my hands with a slap. The motion way too fast for a normal human. The gun spun away from me gliding across the floor.
The secretary on the other side of the room chimed in. “Please Connor, he is just a do-gooder old fart.” Upon hearing these words, I froze and dread began to surge inside of me. The weight of a catastrophic mistake hanging on my shoulders. The ginger man walked slowly towards my lost weapon and picked it up.
“Unauthorized access detected. Your service weapon is currently being used by a third party, countermeasures are available.
Molly requested for your firearm to be inactivated until retrieval is possible. The pistol is currently inactive.”
“Ern, your pistol has safety measures for such instances. I’m on standby waiting for your signal.”
I decided to wait since there was no risk of me getting shot by my own weapon. From where I was standing, I could only see O’Brien’s back shaking, but I didn’t know why. He turned around with his mouth hanging open, his tongue out, drooling. My pistol was stuck between his armpits. You could hear the drop of a needle. He does the same yanking motion I just performed with his legs purposefully turned inward.
“Don’t worry, Grandpa will save you, pretty maiden!” He does a slurred imitation of my own voice. He had a hunchback posture as the drool ran through his chest. Yanking again and again, making fart noises every time the gun failed to be set free. “Whoops! My trousers might be a little dirty, but make no mistake!” He shook his finger at the woman now seated with her back on the wall. “I will save you, darling!” He took the gun out of his armpit. His hands were covering his face. A whizzing sound could be heard faintly. The sound only got louder until it turned into a full burst of laughter. His knees gave in while he held his stomach.
My gaze fell on the Secretary but she avoided it. Rubbing her elbow and looking the other way. I could feel the roaring heat in my face. A feeling that I didn’t experience in a long time. The sounds of mockery ringing loud and clear.
On the other side of the room, O’Brien’s laughter left himself in tears. I could only watch. My arms stood stiffly by my side, unable to meet his gaze; like a helpless boy being berated by his father. After a few minutes, he wiped away his tears. Small bursts of laughter still found their way through, until he finally looked at me again.
“What’s your name, grandpa?” He threw my gun into the trash.
My mouth was dry and my throat felt tight, but I answered his question still. “Montgomery. Ernest Mont-”
“No, I know who you are!” He pointed at me before addressing his secretary. “June!” he yelled. “Does the old bag have an official name yet?”
She shook her head, her long curly hair the only thing I could see from where I was. “He doesn’t.” Her voice was strong even though she refused to look me in the eye. I didn’t blame her, I didn’t want to look at myself either.
Connor O’Brien snapped his fingers. “I have a name for him.” A stupid grin on his ginger face.
“Billy!”
“Billy?” June retorted.
“Billy the Grandpa!” Another roaring laughter ensued.
The woman shifted, allowing me to see her clearly. She was probably in her forties, a strong nose with a thin face.
Her eyebrow rose. “Are you serious?”
His cheerful mood soured from an overjoyed bully to a you have to appreciate my geniality kind of bully. “Log. It. In.” His expression was frightening, malice mixed with joy. His voice held a sharpness to it. “Right now.”
She typed for almost a minute. The room was quiet. The girl in the corner didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. “It is done.”
O’Brien’s smile returned. “What a wonderful day!” He walked towards the exit throwing my gun into the trash. Finally I realized how muscular he was, he had a deceptive lean frame, which I failed to take into consideration, which also wouldn’t matter. “You know what, I think I like our senior citizen right here, put him as my minion.” His voice was sweet. Seemed like a great day to be him.
“You mean as your intern?”
“Bitch, did I stutter? Make the arrangements!”
“Sure.”
The secretary was the only one who still held her composure throughout all of this. She was helpless to deny his demands, but at least she met his gaze with her chin held high. The only thing I had right now was apathy. As my mind failed to conjure a way to gain the upperhand, my fight or flight instinct chose the best course of action. The one that I hated so much. To endure, to bid my time, to survive.
However, my nightmare wasn’t over just yet. Before he headed out, he still spreaded a little bit more of his boyish charm. “And you.” The girl in the corner lifted her head. Not even a drop of blood could be seen anymore. “Yeah, you. Another fuck up like yesterday and not even shitty grandpa right there would be able to stop me from breaking your fuckin’ legs. Alright?” The girl nodded, but Connor continued. “I asked you if you understood what I just said.”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Yes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now that’s the spirit!”
Connor walked out and the three of us remained.
Seven minutes and twenty four seconds was how long it lasted one of the most embarrassing mistakes of my entire life.
The girl on the corner slowly lifted herself up from the floor, using the wall as a crutch. She was a short girl with short black hair. As our eyes met I could see smouldering hatred beaming behind her eyelids. She limped towards me. “Thanks for nothing, Vanp.” she muttered through clenched teeth as she walked past me. A thunderous sound echoed when she closed the door.
The hatred burning inside of me needed an outlet, but none was available. It was me that avoided June’s gaze now. “Where is the bathroom?” Despite my best efforts, my heart ached as I heard my voice breaking as soon as I asked for instructions.
Her long fingernails pointed towards a door right around the corner from the room we were in.
Slowly I walked to the bathroom, picking my discarded pistol on the way. Closing the door, my reflection showed a beaten and distressed old man, my grey hair was still combed, my old suit carefully in place, but my face showed it all. Despite looking a little bit younger since my conversion, the turmoil inside of me reminded me of the powerless frightened old man that I despised so much.
Loosing my tie, I put both hands on the bathroom sink while I looked intently towards the mirror. I stared at the frail man that I saw on the other side. The pathetic thing that I would erase for good. I didn’t care if I Iost. I didn’t care if my dreams didn’t come true. But I will never give in to fear. Ever again. I was not the same person I once was and I would not waste my gift by living on the bottom of his shoe. Not O’Brien’s, not anybody’s shoe.
That’s when I realized the second promise I needed to make. I would hurt that man. Not just anger him or to humiliate him. Somehow I would find a way hurt him. It might take a day, a year or even a century, but he would feel my wrath and he would have nobody to blame but himself.
My chest shook as I breathed deeply. I did it once, twice and a third time. Eight minutes and thirty two seconds go by until I get my bearings again. And just like that, my shame, my hate, my self pity; they were all put in a tiny box inside of me. An unknown place where it would be carefully hidden, waiting for that precious moment when it would return, when it would be brought to life.
As I put my feelings away, my face still showed pure and untamed anger, but as I closed that lid inside of me, every emotion vanished. A placid welcoming smile taking its place. I didn’t have time to suffer or to be sorry for myself anymore. After all, it was time to work and work I shall.