John had returned to the base, he had gotten his bunker, he was not allowed to roam around freely. He would need to remain in his bunker until he was alerted of an impending mission. The atmosphere inside is stark and utilitarian. Dim overhead lights cast a faint glow on the concrete walls, giving the bunker an austere and functional feel. The air is cool and filtered, offering a brief respite from the outside world.
In the center of the bunker, there’s a simple living space with a modest bed and a small table. The bed, covered in a military-style blanket, stands as the sole piece of furniture for rest and reprieve. The table, accompanied by a solitary chair, doubles as a makeshift dining area and workspace.
Against one wall, a screen projector is mounted, creating a makeshift viewing area. This is where John can immerse himself in memories from before the civil war. The projector, activated by a control panel nearby, casts images and scenes from his past life onto the blank canvas of the bunker, offering a fleeting connection to a world that once was.
Strategically placed around the bunker are three mannequins, each representing a significant figure in John’s life. One is crafted in the likeness of Constance, his daughter, serving as a poignant reminder of family ties. Another resembles Jackie, his sister, symbolizing the bond of blood and shared struggles. The most prominently positioned mannequin is of Vivian, a haunting reminder of the love he lost.
The bunker is equipped with only the essential amenities. A small, compact kitchen area houses basic cooking utensils and a ration of non-perishable food supplies. A water purification system ensures a steady supply of clean water.
The limited space allows for only a few personal effects. A worn out photo of his family, taken before the civil war, is pinned to the wall near the memory projection area. John sat on his chair drinking water, “Byron, could I have killed him? Am I on the right side?”
He looked at Vivian’s mannequin, “Hell yes, I am on the right side, he is the reason that Vivian is dead. Without him, his daughter would not have caused the rebel bombings.” John had been informed of all the super soldiers they tried before him, there were not six of them but at least a hundred. All of them died from various problems. John took a blue pill. The last super soldier died from his flesh rotting off. This pill would stop that.
He looked at Constance, “I am sorry, for everything, I bathed in fire, in death of the rebels, and this is where my track record got me, a bunker, hidden. I let them butcher my body, to make me an iron golem, an iron god. I can feel it, the rust in my bones. The sins of my flesh.”
“What will I do now?”
An alarm started to blare with a message, “John the super soldier, report for duty.”
He looked at the time, “It is barely morning. What is going on?”
John opened his medicine cabinet and took a red pill, he went to the door and waited, it opened up and a scientist in a lab coat looked at him, “Have you taken the pills?”
“Yes, sir. I am ready for duty, what is my mission?”
“Our infiltrate Thomas let us know he has crucial information about a conversation of a Voodoopunk leader with a person of interest. Some rebels caught on to his plan, but they have not informed yet to their leaders. Go out there, get Thomas, and kill all witnesses.”
John saluted, “As you wish, blindfold me and take me to the van.” He was indeed blindfolded and dropped into the nearest van. He was alone on this mission.
As the van stopped he opened the door and looked at a broken street, a garden, and in that garden were rebels who had Thomas tied up on the ground.
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Thomas is of average height, with a lean and athletic build that allows him to navigate the war torn streets with a sense of agility. His once clean cut appearance has given way to a deliberately disheveled exterior. Tattered clothes, worn and frayed at the edges, hang loosely on his frame, mirroring the aesthetic of those who call themselves rebels.
His dark hair is slightly unkempt, as if he’s abandoned the meticulous grooming that might betray his true allegiance. A few days worth of stubble adds a rugged quality to his features, accentuating the illusion of a rebel who has weathered the chaos of the civil war.
The rebels, a mix of hardened fighters clad in worn attire, surrounded Thomas with accusatory glares and weapons drawn. The revelation of his true allegiance had incited palpable anger among them. Their leader, a weathered individual with a scarred face, stepped forward, sneering at Thomas. He had not seen John yet.
“You thought you could fool us, didn’t you? A damn spy in our midst!” The rebel leader snarled louder at him.
Just as the rebels tightened their circle to finish him off, a formidable presence made itself known. The air seemed to shift as John, the mechanical super soldier, emerged from the shadows. His crimson mechanical eye scanned the scene, registering the imminent threat to Thomas.
The rebels, initially emboldened by capturing a spy, now faced an adversary of unparalleled strength. John’s mechanical arm glinted ominously, and a low hum emanated from his augmented muscles as he prepared to intervene. The rebels hesitated, uncertain whether they should stand their ground or flee.
In a swift and decisive motion, John lunged into action. His mechanical arm unleashed a torrent of fire, the flames engulfing a cluster of rebels and forcing them to scatter. The element of surprise worked in John’s favor as he closed the distance with incredible speed.
The rebels, disoriented and overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught, struggled to mount a coordinated defense. John’s enhanced strength and combat prowess turned the garden into a chaotic battleground. His mechanical arm delivered bone crushing blows, and rebels were sent sprawling with each calculated movement.
Amidst the chaos, Thomas seized the opportunity to break free from his captors. The rebels, now facing the wrath of the super soldier, found their weapons useless against the unstoppable force before them. John’s relentless assault left the rebels crushed, their resistance shattered by the sheer ferocity of his attacks.
As the last rebel fell, gasping for his final breath, John turned to Thomas. He walked over and grabbed him by his neck, he whispered, “Go with it.”
Thomas understood and slipped something in John’s pocket as he shouted, “What are you doing, why are you killing my friends?”
John grinned, “And you are next!”
Out of nowhere, a blast of voodoo energy hit John, he had already identified the threat, of course, but he had to ensure Thomas’s cover did not get blown. He let Thomas fall to the ground, who acted scared and crawled to safety.
Byron limped out of the shadows, “I felt your presence, I followed the van, why did you kill these rebels? They were just hanging around in this garden.”
John looked at the corpses, “I was ordered to kill them, and I did.” He aimed a gun at Thomas, “I am going to kill him now.”
“Wait, don’t.”
“You have already proven, you cannot beat me, why should I not finish my mission?”
“He is in love with Constance.”
John, who was only pretending he wanted to kill Thomas, suddenly felt something, human, emerge inside of him. This Thomas loves his little girl, that is how he got the information, it made sense now. He had the information, he proved to Byron that Thomas was a rebel. His mission had been fulfilled. He lowered his weapon. “It seems you figured out who I am.”
Byron stood ready to defend himself and Thomas, “It was a very wild guess, thanks for confirming it for me. Please, leave him. We are at war, go back to your base, let him be. You have already killed one of our rebel leaders.” He limped in front of Thomas, “If you are truly no longer human, then,” he spread his arms wide, “Then fire. Because my heart burns for a free New Albion, and I know, one day, your heart will burn like mine. I will die for love, for Thomas, for anyone, if that is what is needed.”
John, who did not even want to kill Thomas, felt moved by Byron’s words and conviction. Is this, how his daughter started the civil war, because of love? John shed a tear, “I see the way you went, and why people follow you, but we are on different sides. Paul was a formidable man, I knew him well, before he became Soldier 7285. I blame him, for the death of my wife, Vivian, I could not, I still cannot accept that she got blown up.” He turned away and walked to the van.
Byron panted in relief, he truly thought he was going to get shot. He looked at Thomas panting, acting. “I did it, friend, I saved you. Constance needs your help tonight. Are you, okay?”
Thomas looked around him, “Yeah, you arrived just in time, he was about to snap my neck, I’ve got your back,” he also felt, moved by Byron’s words, am I, on the wrong side?