Probably having expected his reluctance to re-enter the vehicle beforehand, the tall man behind Goodie grabbed him by the waist, raising him effortlessly into the air before tossing him into the driver’s side of the large van that had originally brought him there in the first palace, slamming the door shut before taking his place next to the other man who called himself John.

Pulling himself up, off and away from the synthetic leather seat and the steering wheel digging into his side, a loud honk sounding out as his wayward left hand pressed down on the wrong spot Goodie turned to look out the side window, towards the one in charge.

John called out, “Yeah, we’ve re-coded everything…,” he turned quickly to shout at someone behind him, “did we? Yeah? Okay…,” he turned back and continued, “Yeah, so the password should be ‘Password’, though everything should already be programmed in. Just let it take you to where you’re going, then dump it.”

“What?” Goodie shouted.

Ignoring him, John turned around and circled his finger in the air.

“Yeah,” the man shouted, “get ‘er moving!”

“What? Wait, wait!” Goodie yelled out, lurching backwards as the van shot forward. His limbs doing likewise, pressing against anything that offered him any sort of hold, another loud honk issuing forth as the vehicle raced to some unknown destination, the sound of its passing magnified by the metal walls that surrounded the vehicle.

Goodie saw a gleam of light from a rapidly opening entrance in front of him, an entrance currently smaller than what he estimated the size of the van he was currently in to be.

“No no, wait! Wait!!!”

The van surprisingly complied with his urgent request, gently slowing to a pace just below that of a brisk stroll as it passed through the ever-widening portal. Unfortunately, whatever comfort that could have come from that acquiescence was short-lived as the van travelled several meters further before reaching the end of the modified super-yacht’s lowest deck, where it then unceremoniously continued on and down into the waters of the North Atlantic.

Goodie’s screaming rose as the salty water likewise rose up and over the front windscreen, his stomach doing somersaults as he held on fast to whatever he could in the impromptu roller-coaster, the vehicle diving deep for an eternal moment before some unknown mechanism triggered, the sound of various hydraulics in motion going unheard as Goodie continued to wail. The van’s front rose soon thereafter, quickly breaking through the waves as the effects of the unknown mechanism made themselves known.

He had already experienced it once before when he had been bought there by the people who had originally grabbed him, but he had been secured to the side of the van’s interior by a mesh of prehensile tentacle-like threads that had restricted the movement of his head, limiting what he could see at the time. He would have preferred that restriction now, the contents of his stomach remaining so thanks only to the devices that had been implanted within him, the feeling of nausea soon dissipating unnaturally.

Concerns over the implication of something within him possessing the ability to manipulate his mind in some fashion were put aside as his attention was overcome with a slew of messages.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

[Assess resources] [Do not say anything, van most likely monitored] [Remain sil…nevermind]

[Determine if resources contain medical supplies]

[Should we try to alter our destination?] [Where those grenades within the front pouch?]

[Do not attempt to retrieve them, you are untrained and will more than likely harm yourself.]

…

….

Goodie ignored them and turned to see what he could through the small widows of the two back doors.

A second shock came to him then as a majority of the van suddenly vanished, its various surfaces becoming translucent enough for Goodie to have a clear view of everything that surrounded it, including what lay beneath the surface of the ocean they now sped through.

No, not translucent, he realised—there was an almost imperceptible delay in the view displayed seemingly vanished walls. Not invisible, then, merely showing what could be seen by the external sensors. The display was everywhere, windows and all. A few items remained visible—the steering wheel in particular, so whatever technology was in play was smart enough to leave the essentials alone, at least. It was a minor concern, but not having to grope the air in an attempt to find anything was a relief that Goodie greatly appreciated at the moment, as small as it was.

A relief that proved to be fleeting as a second concern soon filled his mind. The display had not presented itself when he had first come across the water, so why now? It did not activate immediately upon entering the ocean, but when he looked backwards so… ‘Advanced programming?’ he wondered, ‘Or is this thing aware of…?’

Further thought on the matter was brought to a halt as another slew of messages brought his attention back to his original concern.

The large ship, a modified super-yacht whose purpose he assumed was to serve as a base of operations for the man calling himself John and his crew, was rapidly shrinking in size as the distance between it and him grew, and not merely for the speed of the van he currently occupied. John had spared no time in getting the ship underway, and the colossal vessel, apparently capable of a speed that belied its mass, was quickly making for the horizon.

[We should attempt to obtain control of this vehicle] [Agreed]

[Assess resources] [Say nothing, they could still be listening.]

[Maybe they will run into an iceberg and all die?]

[We need more information]

[Is there some way we could make them run into one?]

…Goodie ignored all but one of them.

[We should add them to the list of problems. That man most likely intends to exploit you at a later date.]

“Hmm,” he agreed. “….sooo, what do I do…with myself?”

Despite his preference and experience with solitude, Goodie was not particularly familiar with talking to himself, and each word felt like nails on a chalkboard as they came out, each soaked to the gills in cringe.

If anyone were listening to him, it was unlikely that they would have been fooled in the slightest. But then again, it was just as unlikely that they knew about his passengers. But again, then again, he would have thought everything he had seen and experienced since he had been yanked out of the box all but impossible outside of a comic book or movie.

Few messages addressed his current dilemma, the rest were trying to force his attention elsewhere, his eyes unconsciously darting around to the various objects within the vehicle highlighted by his game-like display. Many hung from the ceiling, supported by the same clinging mesh that had secured him before, their purposes largely unknown. The same went for the ones currently rolling around the back of the van. They might have had value, but the only thing that he knew to be a viable resource was the go-bag resting in the next seat, tossed in seconds before John’s henchmen had seen fit to do the same with him.

He had no clue how to ascertain the nature of those objects, or if he even had the time to do so, or even if he should try to heed their advice and meet the needs of the rest of his passengers. But likewise, he had no clue as to how to do anything else in his current situation. This van could drive on the ocean, James Bond style; for all he knew, it also possessed a self-destruct button, one he would invariably press first if he decided to start messing around with things, so the best thing to do, he felt, was to do nothing. Surrendering to that futility, he slumped back into his seat to stare out the front, an odd sight given that the water appeared to be parting for no reason as he floated forth, his destination ahead a sight as equally fantastic.