CHAPTER 14

OCTOBER 22ND 12:08 PM

--RAYSHE--

Rayshe stood in a mysterious clearing in a forest. A tunnel was perfectly carved out through the bushes and shrubbery to get there. It was definitely man-made, and recent. Before him stood a large, wooden home sitting up off the ground with a wide staircase leading up to its front porch. Something about it seemed different. It was obviously no ordinary log cabin, that was for sure. But there was an itch in the back of his head about this place. It didn't help that Roger's car was nowhere to be found. Rayshe walked up to an apple tree standing amongst an array of flowers. He picked an apple, and another instantly grew in its place.

"Interesting."

This is it. This is who broke in. This is who took our stuff. This is who spoke against us.

Rayshe stared up at the large front of the home. He knew that something was wrong. It takes a very capable person to break into the White House like somebody did just a few days ago. And this house didn't belong to an ordinary person.

"Did Roger betray me?"

We did good to get rid of him when we did.

"No. Roger is a spineless bastard. Was."

Someone more conspires against you.

"Who?" Rayshe said curiously while he stared infatuated at the house. He began towards the door, slowly making his way up the steps, wary of any traps that may lie ahead. The wood didn't creak under his steps; quietly he moved. The floor felt weightless under his feet. He felt weightless over the floor. Like it was pushing back more than he was pushing on it. Rayshe paused midway up the steps, frozen in fascination at the complexity of the home. He reached down, tracing the surface of the wood with his fingers. It was wood, but not natural. It was enchanted.

It seems you have a powerful foe that challenges you.

Rayshe finally made it to the door, reluctant to put his hand on it. The path up didn't give him any surprises, but he wasn't in the mood for taking chances. If the traitor he sought was home, he needed to catch them by surprise.

Go. Hurry

Carefully, he placed his hand along the door. He applied pressure slowly, ensuring that it was rigged. With a strong push, the door swung open. He stood in the frame, staring into the home that was slowly revealed by the moving door. He saw through its interior, all the way through the back balcony which looked out at the backyard's trees.

Go in.

Kill them.

Rayshe planted his foot into the home, methodically moving further and further in. The inside had the same, unnatural yet extraordinary feel of the outside. Despite that, it seemed like an average home. Not average in grandeur, but in contents. It had a living room in the middle with a u-shaped couch, doors on the right that led into more of the home, and a kitchen with a dining table on the left. He stood his ground, unsure if he should continue searching or call out to the occupant, bring them to him.

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Find them.

He continued his slow pace, moving towards the kitchen. Articulate, well designed, exquisite material, but nothing that would indicate the home of a blasphemer. Near the other end he saw a dresser. It was wood framed with glass doors, holding fine china, trinkets, and other items not worth Rayshe's time. But atop it was picture frames. He moved over there quicker than he had walked through the home previously.

Look. See who wishes to destroy you.

There were two picture frames. Rayshe took one in his hands carefully, lifting it up to see it clearly. It displayed a grainy, dim picture, like it was meant to look that way. The background was dark; the surroundings showed some streaks of light and objects, but not enough to deduce the location. But the two who stood in frame were perfectly illuminated from the flash.

Two men. In reality, one. And a machine. The man stood on the left, turned sideways, looking over his right shoulder at the camera. His expression was nonchalant and unamused from the photograph. In his right hand was a handle which hung low to something that wasn't visible, cut off and out of the frame. The machine stood next to him on the right. He had no face to make an expression, yet it seemed obnoxiously happy somehow, like it was trying to act humorous for the picture. He stood straight, facing the camera with two thumbs up.

There they are. Find them.

Leo and Tommy. Heroes of the States. Bonafide legends in history. Saved Regis from the grasps of terrorism and fought valiantly in the Second Great War. Valiantly for the U.S.S. For Regis, and for Rayshe.

"It can't be."

They betray you.

"They wouldn't do that."

You know what you must do.

Rayshe set down the frame and turned his attention to the other one that sat on the cabinet. He studied it just as he did the last. It had Leo and Tommy in it, except this time a woman stood in the middle. Her arm stretched out forward and below the frame as she held the camera. She smiled exuberantly; her brown eyes sparkled in the flash of the camera. Even Leo this time smiled, to an extent. Tommy had the same face he always had, but somehow, without doing anything, made it seem as though he was smiling too. They all held their heads close together to squeeze into frame. The photo was sweet; a moment between three friends whose bond is strong unlike any other, captured and immortalized in lament paper. It made Rayshe sick.

It had to be some mistake. The tracker led them here by mistake. Roger's car was never there. They were never involved with him. It was just some wild coincidence that he ended up here.

Your reluctance will be our end.

If Leo, Laurel and Tommy worked against Rayshe, then who else did too. Was it really Frank that night in the Oval Office? Did he steal his work? Run off with it to the media? Let them show the world? Ruin him? Destroy him? Would Frank do that to Rayshe?

It's time for you to stop denying it.

But Frank is a hero. He fights for the States. He would never do this.

He stole the research. He knows about the pieces. He searches for them himself right now.

"I'm going to wait for them."

No. Go after them now.

"I'm waiting," Rayshe said, aggressively pulling a chair out from under a table and sitting. "They will come right here, to me."

That's really what you are going to do? Sit and wait?

"Yep. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to fucking wait."

They are out to ste-

"NO! Just shut up! Just shut up!" Rayshe screamed. "I'm in control here! You don't understand. I chase them, and I following behind off their fucking breadcrumbs. I wait here, they come straight fucking to me. You understand?"

The unintelligible screams swirled in his head, but the speech stayed quiet.

"Good," Rayshe said, sitting perfectly straight in the seat. "Let's wait."