Chapter 6

15 MINUTES EARLIER

--ROGER--

Roger sat idle in his blacked-out car. He sat in the driveway of his home, scanning his surroundings with only the porch lights to see through the dark, tree-covered neighborhood. His paranoia was at an all time high; what Rayshe told him just hours ago sat with him heavily. He finally exited the vehicle slowly and began towards the front door. The night was ominously quiet. The loudest thing that could be heard was the clinking of the hot engine of his SUV. Roger walked up to his front door, entered the security code and scurried in. It felt as though there was someone in the home, waiting for him. He quickly locked the door behind him as he scanned his house, looking for anything out of the ordinary. His home was split down the middle: the living room on the left side, the kitchen and dining room on the right, with a long hallway down the middle, which lead to his office at the end.

"Welcome home, Mr. Fuld."

He violently recoiled at the automated voice. It said those same four words to Roger every time he opened the door, but this time it slipped from his mind, frightening him so badly he thought he may pass out right there.

"Is the house secure?" he asked the AI.

"Yes. All doors and windows are locked, and alarm is primed," it said. "Would you like me to run diagnostics?"

"No, no. It's okay," Roger replied, his heartbeat finally beginning to slow down. He strolled into his living room, the lights turning on to a dim orange as he approached.

"Activate the fireplace for me," he asked.

"Of course, Mr. Fuld."

The fireplace sprung to life, charring the fresh wood in the pit. The fireplace was decorated with a floating shelf just above it, with expensive liquors and glasses. Roger took one, pouring a glass with a heavy hand.

"Is everything alright?" the AI asked.

Roger gulped down the liquor, burning his throat on the way. "Yes. Just a long day at work," he answered.

"Shall you be off to bed soon?"

"I have some work that needs to be done," he said as poured himself another glass.

"May I provide some assistance?"

Roger swallowed another shot of liquor. He grunted as he put the glass back onto the shelf. "If you could unlock all my safes for me. I need to grab some things out of them."

"All safes?"

"All of them. Even the secure ones."

"May I ask what for?"

"It's for work..."

"As you wish Mr. Fuld," the AI said. Distant sounds of bolts unlatching could be heard through the walls of his home.

"There should be some people coming by later tonight to take them," Roger said.

"I'll set the security to be expecting visitors- "

"No." Roger quickly said. "Leave it at lockdown. Just tell me when somebody is outside."

"As you wish."

Roger walked out of the living room to his office. As he opened the door, the safe doors on the back wall behind his desk were open. The white moonlight that shined through the windows was drowned out as the desk lamp brightened in response to his proximity. He went up to the safes and grabbed the stacks of papers and files, laying them across his desk. Roger sat down in his chair as he engrossed himself in the documents. He thought about the meeting with Rayshe earlier. No one could put fear into someone like he could. He was dangerous and unpredictable. At least before, Regis was able to keep him on a tight leash. Now he was unopposed. Rayshe had full authority to do as he pleased, and nobody was ignorant enough to even try to say otherwise. Roger thought about leaving, disappearing completely.

He was too close already; he knew too much. He couldn't just disappear. He would need help.

But who would ever help Roger? Even then, who would be capable of helping him against Rayshe. That wasn't an option. The alternative was playing along; Rayshe seemed to need Roger for his plans which leaves him without motive to 'get rid of him'. Roger could be the right-hand man. Maybe if he gets on his good side, if he proves valuable.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

What if his value runs out? Would Rayshe kill Roger just simply because he doesn't need him anymore? He rationalized his thoughts; Rayshe couldn't be that crazy. He was the President after all, he couldn't just kill people...

"Mr. Fuld, the visitors are here."

Roger's heart skipped a beat as he looked up from his papers. "Where? Are they at the front door?"

"They're inside."

Roger felt his skin go cold. His mouth dried up as he felt his blood rushing.

"They're at your d- "The AI voice suddenly shut off.

Roger stood up quickly. He froze as his mind scrambled for his next move. Before he could, the door flung open, and in stepped a metal clad machine.

"Tommy?" he stammered. "Wha-What the hell are you doing here? He sent you?" Roger's voice stuttered and trembled.

"Hey Rog'!" Tommy replied with sarcastic enthusiasm. He began to round the desk; Roger tried to scurry backwards.

"I'm sorry! Tell Rayshe I'm sorry! I don't know what I did but I'm sorry!" he exclaimed as Tommy grabbed him by his suit jacket, lifting him up off the ground.

Tommy looked at Roger confusedly. "We don't work for the fed anymore Rog'. It's just us," Tommy assured. "But you can do something for me..." he said as he grabbed the rolling chair and set him down in it. Roger's fear continued to turn into confusion as he saw Leo and Boone enter the office.

Tommy wore the attire that he typically wore when he expected to be "working." Which consisted of a dark olive drab ammo carrier wrapped around his abdomen, strapped over his shoulders and a pistol holster around his right leg which held the hand cannon: a handheld rail gun that fired weighted metal slugs. Besides that, he chose to show his metallic black metal frame. His body was built to mimic a human of peak physical condition: broad chest plates with wide shoulders, tapered torso, and wide legs. Reinforced plates and materials slotted together, with slight gaps in between pieces to allow flexibility. Everything about his design was to intimidate.

Just beside him, Leo wore tightly woven, hardened dark grey resistant fabric and leather armor, sacrificing defense for maneuverability. Wrapped around the collar was a black cloak, which draped over the left shoulder and went down his back just above his waist. Across his chest was a strap, reaching over his right shoulder, around his back and connected from underneath his left arm, with a notch to hook his weapon onto his back. He carried his axe in his right hand, with its blade head hovering just above the floor.

In the back, Boone wore a cotton white shirt that was tucked into his baggy black cargo pants. The short sleeves revealed the unnatural tattoos stretching along the entirety of both arms. Black traced over the bones in his hands, up to his fingertips. Strapped around his body, over his shoulder and around his back was a strip of devices, with thick, transparent plastic fronts that held lights in them.

"Rayshe didn't send you? What do you want then? I know you don't want money," he asked.

Tommy ignored him and walked towards the wall of liquor and decorative glasses to the left of the desk. He grabbed a bottle of alcohol, gripping it by the neck before turning around and setting it down roughly on the desk over some papers. The hard glass echoed as it hit the wood, the brown liquid splashing inside the bottle.

"What? Do you want me to drink or something?" Roger questioned. Tommy ignored him again as he sat down in one of the thin chairs in front of the desk. Boone came forward and sat in the other. Leo walked behind them and sat up on the drink counter to their left.

"Is this some kind of joke? What do you want?" Roger said. He got increasingly nervous at their silence.

"Do you think you could help me out here Roger?" Tommy finally said.

He looked at him confusedly, his eyes darted between the three intruders in his home.

"Help you with what?" Roger asked. A level of wavering in his voice implied he was beginning to suspect what they may be there for.

"Did Rayshe Hall murder Regis Hardwell?" Tommy asked directly.

His face went white. "I-I don't know," he managed to get out.

"Roger, that was the worst fucking attempt at a lie I've ever heard," Tommy said sternly.

"They'll kill me. Do you understand that?" he barked back. "I'm probably already dead because you guys breached my home."

Tommy shrugged, his palms facing the ceiling. "We're professionals Rog'. No one knows we’re here. Look, if it makes you feel better you can write it down so nobody hears you."

Roger glanced at the three of them, then looked out the window on the other side of the room, looking out to darkness.

"Look," he said in a quieter tone. "Believe me, if you guys are trying to stop Rayshe, I would help you if I could. I really would."

"So why won't you?" Boone asked.

"Because they'll fucking kill me!" he jumped. "You people wouldn't understand. You don't know what it's like to fear for your life."

"You're no safer staying quiet than spilling. You couldn't be more expendable," Leo said.

Roger sighed as he shook his head, looking down into his lap. "You guys are more than capable of doing things yourself," he began. “Okay listen," Roger said as he quickly glanced out the windows. “Rayshe didn’t do it.”

“He didn’t?”

“Not physically,” Roger clarified. “But it was his plan.”

“Then who did it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t fuck with me Rog’.”

“I don’t know! I really don’t,” he pleaded.

"You know him Roger," Tommy said. "You're in his chamber."

"What do you want from me exactly?" he asked.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, putting his hands over the corners of the arm rests. "Just answer a few questions for us, and we'll leave. You'll never be hurt."

Roger stared a Tommy, the gears turned in his head.

"Can you guarantee my safety?" he asked.

"How do you want us to do that?"

"Protection. Witness protection. Help me out of D.C. Get me to St. Grad in California."

"You want out, out?" Boone asked confused.

"I want to disappear," Roger clarified. "If you were me, and you knew what Rayshe was planning, you would too. I wouldn't be able to live with that..."

"Live with what?" Leo interjected.

"Promise me you can protect me, and I will talk," Roger demanded. The three of them shared glances at each other. Leo rolled his eyes at Tommy.

"Alright Roger," Tommy sighed. "We'll get you out," he said. His face, rather than relieved, was still nervous.

"Ok..." he said weakly, looking down at his lap. He sat quietly, mulling over in his own head.

"Rayshe was briefed today, correct?" Tommy asked. Roger nodded softly. "Tell us what you know."

"Everything?"

"Everything, from the beginning."