Import US 7c
A big thank you to my editor Flip McHooter! This chapter wouldn't be nearly as appetizing without your aid.
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Next I'd like to apologize for the considerable breaks between chapters. Between mild writers block and the pressures of being a college student I sometime have little to no free time at all.
With that said I'd like to know if there are still people following this story as its just beginning to build up. Lots more to come so mail me!
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BlackArrow
All rights reserved. No parts of this story may be transmitted or reproduced in whole or in part in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law.
Copyright ©2013, 2014 Black Arrow
Chapter 7C
Blow
Engrained deep in my DNA was what I would like to describe as a debugging program of sorts. Well that was the closest I could get to labelling it. Inherent within the binding of every nucleotide. A vehement and innate aversion to inadequacies.
Failure was never an option.
Ever.
I could easily become fixated. Plainly obsessed with any given task that I was not the absolute best at. I was trained to be flawless, faultless. To appreciate the novelty in consistent precision and alternatively the consequences of carelessness.
As a result of that wiring, I had developed a mercurial bout of OCD. My mind would fall into a loop until success was accomplished
I repetitively sought out perfection in myself. Whatever it was I did, especially on covert assignments. I didn't just need to be good; I had to be perfect. As far back as I could recall; I was always my toughest critic. I had to be. I learned early on that my handlers, the people who employed me, were not the forgiving kind. So there was intuitively only one course of action on the field- at all times.
Do it right.
Mistakes had been made in the past. Lapses in judgement and lack of pre-emptive measures that lead to the ultimate decimation of the Soviet Union. My handlers were adamant on not having the errors of the past haunt the future path. That meant instilling a work ethic of streamlined efficiency-often times by force.
I suppose that's one of the reasons why I gravitated so early on to the sport of gymnastics. The kind that devalued you on the errors, form breaks and tardiness in your routine. It was a subliminal act-subconscious magnetic pull to self-improvement. To embody the mould.
Like that of a craftsman, no glass of value is forged without the application of heat and an expert hand. Every time I was out on task, I had to constantly prove my value, usefulness to my superiors. Independence and ability to adapt through grit determination. No one could teach you that. But I knew that they were always watching. Where I failed, there were at least six other LoneStar protégé's out there to pick up where I'd left off.
Was I disposable? It was a possibility. The fact that our communication was correspondence as sleeper agents meant effective minimum risk of exposure to them. Meaning no foothold for us if we ever were to go rogue. Or get caught.
Like marionettes on fragile strings. My position was never one of security. So the only way to reinforce your ties was by enhancing your place within the agency with a job well done.
That's why I had always been self-sufficient. You could never rely on another. There were too many unknown factors involving someone else. I liked certainties. For example, a certain, was that I would always come back better than I was the last time.
Always.
+++++++++++++========++++++++++++++========
My eyes shot open at the crunch of a cold boot slamming into my ribs. I promptly made eye contact with the blue-eyed security guard I had taken out a few floors below. A ghost of past mistakes materialized before me. He towered over my splayed form. This angle certainly did make him seem so much more imposing than before, larger, domineering- statuesque even.
How does that saying go? If it were a snake, it would have bit ya?
Not if I bite it first.
He appeared startled by my sudden consciousness, made clear by his eyes bulging obscenely before he recoiled and attempted to kick me again. His mistake. He shouldn't have waited for me to wake. He shouldn't have offered the courtesy. It certainly would not be reciprocated. I rolled away from his offending boot and spun flat on my back to sweep his feet clean off the floor. He came down with an audible thud. Flailing his arms by virtue of his instincts and knocking over most of the contents from the nearest desk.
Coffee mugs, stationery and folders came crashing down after him littering the floor. With a thrust from my pelvis, I rolled backwards pivoting over my shoulders and landing in a crouched position. I could literally feel my pupils dilating as I zoned in on his form. Now hunched like a wild cat, I instantly lunged for his still flattened form.
I was enraged.
I was feral.
I was the beast I was trained to be.
I voluntarily let my savage instincts take flight. How did I let a mere watchdog sneak up on me and land a blow?
Seriously, What. The .Fuck?!?
So in all honesty, the rage I felt was directed more towards me than him.
I completed my swift ascent on his huffing form in a blind fury and straddled his pelvis in a single swooping move. I struck his abdomen with a hard jab that had him doubling over-legs and chest jerking upwards in pain, gasping for air. Looking down at him I still couldn't see how I had been bested by him, even momentarily. It was as if time itself had frozen and I was looking into the human manifestation of my miss-sight and he was there to taunt me.
But the masochist within me could wait. I didn't have the time to analyse this any further because the sirens had begun to pulse loud and shrill, occupying every atom of air in the area. I pulled my left arm across my chest before bringing my elbow down hard into his jaw. His head snapped back violently after the hit and this time, unlike the last, I was sure he would stay down.
I rose and walked over to the surveillance footage lining the walls of the room. There I was jarred back to my reality- reminded of a universal truth. The Third Law of Motion, every action has an equal but opposite reaction. I had made my move; now here comes the Calvary.
Armed men in dark uniforms were in all the elevators, running up the stairs and marching through the corridors. They were fierce and they had cause. They were on the hunt and I was the target. A heavy and enveloping feeling of claustrophobia washed over me like waves crashing against rocks on the shore.
I was infinitely unnerved by the fact that they had the jump on me. The whole point of this suicide plan was that it would be done on my terms. I dictated when and how the chase would commence. Now the playing field had been tipped. Home team advantage.
The monitors also made me aware of another, more pressing occurrence. The reserve sections were already going under lock down. The reinforced steel doors were shutting, one by one like dominoes. If they all sealed shut with me on the wrong side- I'd be fucked. Literally.
I yanked the baseball cap off my head and ran a frustrated hand through my... wet hair? Blood... one side of the gray uniform cap was soaked in scarlet liquid. I touched the side of my head gingerly to inspect the damage, further into my hairline my fingers slicked through a warm runny substance. Regrettably I pulled my hand back and looked down at my three fingers covered in crimson. The blow to my head was harder than I had initially thought. Come to think of it, I began to feel lightheaded at that junction. I shook my head, trying to physically clear it of the cobwebs. I dismissed the injury as being too superficial to cause any great concern. I had a job to get done.
"Shadow?...Shadow..." Dario sounded panicked and frantically called my name over the com-link.
"I'm here," I said fixing the earpiece for better reception.
"You went mum. What's your status?"
"The lockdown sequence has been triggered...Someone got the jump on me," I answered deplorably.
"Can you move?" he asked sounding rushed and I knew the cause of emergency in his voice.
"Yes"
"Not to sound callous. But you have to get out of there...like now!"
"Move north of your position now. The building is already under a state of alarm so I bulldozed through their firewalls. I have a live video feed. Go through the offices, that elevator is still four floors below you. Hurry and you can still make it to the stairwell before it arrives on your floor," Dario advised.
I was about to question his direction when I saw the east elevator open up on my floor. Armed men clad in black garb with bullet proof vests filed out.
Okay, avoid east wing.
I secured my gun and made it quietly out of the dome, running up a similar gray tunnel like the one I had entered through. I exited into the same warm colored office building I had come from. It was like I had jumped out of a worm hole and visited a parallel universe because of the severe contrast they had in the building's design. This building had a lot more to hide than plain aircraft research and admin, but unfortunately everything else was not on my agenda for tonight.
I kept close to the walls. Moving as briskly as possible without causing a subsequent reverberating noise these halls were inclined to make. I turned right into a hallway and the elevator bell pinged signaling the machine arrival on my floor.
Shit.
I skidded to an abrupt halt and doubled back just before the doors opened. I took a sharp breath-that was cutting it close. I chanced a glance at them briefly, to scope out their number, artillery and hopefully any immediately recognizable weaknesses.
There were six heavily armed men. They seemed to air on the side of caution though. I was an unknown vector to them. I could use that. As predicted they were going to split up either direction of the T-junction. It was a basic military tactic to bottleneck the enemy. I was close enough to catch brief snippets of their radio transmissions. They were synching their directive with the other pod that exited on the east.
I spoke into my com-link then. This had to be played out carefully.
"Dario, there's way too much visibility. I need you to trip the lights." I whispered out the order.
Seconds later the place suddenly went darker with a portentous rattle. That alone made me feel instinctively more at ease. I liked the dark. It held many a thing, one of which was the element surprise.
It wasn't much but it should sufficiently tip the scale in my favor. I have better night vision than most. Not long after the blackout, I heard the distinctive shuffling of the tac-team's movements. I had to move. I was too exposed. I looked around me, not much in cover to offer. Not seeing a better alternative I headed for the nearest office door.
I couldn't force my way through the men. Not just yet. For now, I needed to be one with the shadows. I'd play the slippery fox. I stalked to the nearest door and slid in easily courtesy of my all-access key card.
The office was dark and small...very small. The cramped space comprised of a desk that took up the majority of the room and what little was left over was occupied by cabinets. The only windows were those facing the hall and mostly covered by horizontal blinds. The moon led a pattern of elongated light matching the gaps of the blinds.
I had no choice but to wait them out. If not that, at the least I'd have more time to consider my options. The room was dead quiet save for the steady sound of the vents above. The normally gentle hum now adding an ominous soundtrack to the setting. I closed my eyes focusing on the sounds emitted from beyond the door. Every single minute movement or adjustment on my end sounded as loud as a jet engine. My senses were hyperextended and consequently flagrantly sensitive. My back went rigid to halt any more unnecessary commotion.
And so I waited.
And listened...
And there it was. Muffled by expert foot placing, I could hear their heavy boots slam onto the floor. It reverberated through the closed space I was occupying with a presence of its own. Even though they were doing their part on being stealthy and most likely moving on their toes, their sounds echoed to me loud and clear, carried by subtle waves that the average listener would miss.
They were still a couple feet from my door, progressing with ample amounts of caution and occasional halts. The place was growing eerily quiet between pauses. I could hear a pin drop from two floors down at this point. That wasn't always a good thing. The quiet now was the loudest thing I had ever heard. I was in a deep state of concentration, thoroughly stretching my senses and successfully grating my nerves raw. I was inconceivably hypersensitive-tightly wound up. The stillness was chilling company.
Why couldn't I hear them anymore?
I strained my ears further than I ever had before. All distractions needed to be set aside. I gradually slowed my heart; even the steady thump in my chest seemed awfully loud. A hindrance. A dead give-away.
I slowed my breathing almost to a halt and took a languid step closer to the door. I had to know. Had they found me? Was I being staked out now? My level of anxiety rose exponentially as my mind raced with unanswered questions. I didn't do well with being the passive offender. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face and down my neck. I swallowed loudly and leaned ever so slightly towards the door.
More silence.
Suddenly a loud noise went off right by the door. I almost jumped out of my skin from the dense noise.
"Bravo team to Beta, sweeping east. No intruder in sight," followed by more static.
It continued to crackle by my side but at a considerably lower volume. I felt like a jolt of electricity had surged through me. And left me exhausted. My nerves remained tightly coiled from the scare.
I eyed the guilty party with contempt. The sound came from the radio I had confiscated earlier on. I had forgotten all about the device-not seeing a direct need for it at the time. I was convinced that it had given me a premature heart attack. But said need had just dawned upon me. I could eaves drop on their transmissions. Point to visitor. Now I could ensure that I remained a step ahead.
"Beta to Bravo. Converge on south as planned."
The shuffling outside restarted and became faster-harder. I heard their steady approach- the staccato rhythm of their choreographed marching picking up pace. The echo of their footsteps rising to a crescendo causing my muscles to stiffen and flex in anticipation.
I languidly eased out my bunched up muscles and closed the gap between myself and the door .My arm raised; index finger hovering over the trigger. The slightest creak would send me off at this juncture. However I needed to pace myself. Not the time to overact.
Yet as soon as the sound reached its height, it died down just as fast and vanished like it never happened.
Were they really gone?
The ominous stillness returned. I was at a crossroads in that regard. Not sure which I despised more, the loud approach of the guards or the menacing lull they left behind in their haste. I stood unmoving for quite a while to ensure that the hall was in fact left vacant. Satisfied that I was alone, I twisted the door knob and opened the door.
Walking out into the moonlit hall I crashed head on into another warm body. Even in the dark I could make out it was a member of the tact team.
The shock of the collision registered on both of our faces but I collected myself quicker than he did. Where the hell did he come from? And why wasn't he with the first pod that I was listening in on?
I swivelled and kicked him hard to the side of his abdomen but this was no coup de grâce, this guy was an adept fighter. He caught my leg before I could pull back and used it as leverage to slam my back against the wall. That successfully knocked the wind out of me and he used that opening to land two hard punches into my stomach. Each with the force of Hercules. On the third try I caught his wrist and twisted. Undeterred he tried again with his other hand and I caught that one too before recoiling my neck and head butting him.
He stumbled back from the head blow but I wasn't left better off because of it either. My head felt woozy as the after effects of my previous head injury started to take its toll. I steadied myself with my left hand against the wall behind me. Apparently that was too long of a pause because he had regained his composure and tackled me in the midsection partially lifting me off the ground and slamming me against the wall once again. The full contact with his shoulder sent a sharp pain through my ribcage as I reacquainted scornfully with the frigid wall.
He didn't stop once there. He thrust his forearm against my throat and started chocking me. I grappled his arm trying to loosen his grip but he was a militant man- a strong man and considering his size advantage, this was a bad position for me to be in.
I felt my face heat up from the pressure placed on my larynx and my increasingly obstructed breathing. I tried to kick at him but he was far too close for my legs to build up ample momentum. He had me pinned and if I didn't do anything fast, he'd soon have me beat.
I was beginning to become light headed from the mammoth pressure he was applying to my throat. The more I tried to resist and fight back; the more he seemed to be getting stronger instead of tiring from the exertion. He hooked his legs between mine to prevent any more kicking on my part. The cold sweat of impending doom slithered down my spine making its presence known. I was growing frustrated at my seemingly futile grappling. My fingers began to tingle and I was seeing spots in my vision. I'd soon loose consciousness at this rate. A passive grogginess began to invade my frontal lobe and my efforts began to die down.
My body was failing me. It was surrendering.
He jerked his neck closer to his shoulder in a weird almost spastic manner and spoke into a communicator. "Bravo team I found the suspect..." he began.
The weight of his barely completed statement was like a bucked of cold water was doused over me. The recognition of my predicament was sobering and I wrenched myself from the mortal panic I had succumbed to. I couldn't let this happen. I was better than this; I was MADE to be greater than this.
I felt a familiar surge vibrate up spine and course through my veins. Igniting every molecule, fiber and tissue existent within me. I was calling the inner beast. The engineered killer-soldier who was far superior to human limitations. The sensation rose throughout my musculature, my heart rate accelerated, my chest expanded.
I was built to kill.
"You won't believe what I found. He's really youn -"
He didn't get to finish that sentence. I had thrust my fingers deep into his eye sockets, eliciting a loud groan of pain from him. He let go of me instantly like I was made of hot coal and stumbled couple paces back. I followed that up by gripping his collar and directing him face first into the wall. He went down without as much as a sound.
I coughed out heavily a few times and braced my hands on my knees. My throat was burning from the prior strain it was subjected to. Like hot ash had been poured into it. I heaved in a few deep breaths getting large lungful's at a time. That facilitated my much needed oxygen back into my core and instantly recharged me. I was back in the game.
My body was still shaking from the adrenalin I had consciously beefed up back there. At this very moment I had way more than the natural volume running through me but my organs could handle it...and then some. They were engineered to do so.
After the fight, the back-up generators eventually kicked in and made it much easier task to locate my fallen weapon and head down the hall. He had called for back-up; they wouldn't be far from here. Before I had even turned the corner there was the unmistakeable deafening sound of gunfire sounding off behind me. The inharmonious noise thundered and resonated off the walls. Like a lightning storm in the night, it lit up the otherwise dark surroundings. I ran in the direction Dario had instructed and up ahead I saw the door I was after.
There was a T-junction that opened to the stairwell, so people could come from three different directions leading up to it. It was clear to me that they had surmised I was headed there. It wasn't that hard of a deduction to make from where they had received the last confirmation call. They had zeroed in on my location. No more playing coy. I would soon have to face more of them. Another indicator was the audible sound of running other than my own coming from up ahead.
I stepped up my pace and pushed into a full on sprint. I wouldn't allow myself to be stopped. Not so close to reaching my objective. Just as the hall I was running down opened up into the others, a man in that distinct black uniform skidded to a stop right in front of me. It didn't take me a moment's hesitation to take off and align my body into a fast moving drop kick.
With the moving speed I had accumulated and my practiced knack for flight, I slammed my feet into his chest and sent him hurtling back.
I swivelled onto my feet fast and bolted for the door. He was down long enough for me to skip over his dazed form and cross the threshold. He didn't stay down for much longer though, as these trained types tend to have a boomerang effect. Once in the stairwell, he grabbed my trailing leg with a vice like grip. I held my stance and proceeded to slam the corner of door into his face. The entire rectangular structure vibrated as an after effect of the collision.
Now freed, I started running up the concrete stairs in the dark stairwell. My ascent wasn't incidence free as I looked over the metal railing of the spiralled staircase, I could see the rest of the tac-team step over the threshold and give chase.
I readjusted my earpiece which seemed to dislodge from its position every time I moved.
"Dario, how far along is the lock up sequence?" I huffed as I ran up the stairs with the echoes of the Calvary hounding beneath me.
"Not good. Six of the eight sections have sealed themselves off. Once you get to the landing head right. That's the nearest of the two that hasn't locked down yet."
It started becoming really hard to focus on what he was saying because I had to concentrate on hugging close to the walls- the men below me had started to open fire. The cylindrical space was alight with an impromptu firework display. The shots boomed and ricocheted off the walls in rapid order and dust from the walls wafted the enclosed space blurring my vision for a split-second. I had my sights set on a single goal in mind that couldn't afford to be delayed. The idea of being shot didn't particularly appeal to me but neither did getting barred from my only escape route.
I burst through the twenty-third floor and pulled down the lever of the stairwell door to lock it. I knew it wouldn't hold them off for long. That would be a temporary fix, but nevertheless, it would buy me necessary seconds.
"Dario, its Armageddon in here."
"I know. Two left turns at the first entrance to the reserve section but time isn't on your side. You need to hustle it over there," he replied.
I sprinted for all I was worth towards my new destination. Soon I would be scot-free and it wouldn't matter that I had the entire Royal fleet chasing after me. Echoing behind me were the screeching sounds of bullets and man power punctuating and perforating a steel barrier. I could hear the eventual give of the door. They were now hot on my heels.
I turned the first corner and slammed into the adjacent wall because I couldn't adequately slow down my momentum. But I had no time to worry about such trivialities now. I was about to become a free man. I further pushed myself to the point of literally hearing the whoosh of wind within my ears. My long black hair blew whimsically behind me as I moved like a fine tuned Ferrari- racing down the track.
The heavy clank of steal gates closing in was the gutting sound that smacked me out of my zone. I was too late.
Dario's words of caution came hurtling to the fore front of my conscience, miss the lock down and you're through.
I just stood there, facing the thick grey doors that prohibited any forced entry. The doors that held my freedom. The cold realization of the outcome abruptly crashing into me. My hopes dashed before my eyes. I was boxed in. They knew it and so did I. A mirage of thoughts and images went sailing through my mind on how this would go down. How I'd be remembered. What my case file would read. How would my family deal with my demise? What story would the agency produce to cover up my disappearance? This was not how I envisioned it to end.
The troops were quickly converging on my current position. The hammered march of their boots adding an ill-omened soundtrack to my imminent doom. The brutal truth was that it wasn't even about capturing me anymore. I had presented myself as a hostile threat. That option had gone down along with the operative that had attempted to strangle me. I knew the procedure. The orders they would have received were clear as daylight.
Kill on sight.
"Dario, tell me there's still a way ou-", before I could complete that question.
"Back track, to the opposite end of the block. But it's the last seal to go down. Shadow you must make it there in time", he said betraying some emotion in that statement. "It's your last best chance to get out alive."
It merely served as a confirmation of my own thoughts; the situation was as dire as I had assumed. Sometimes we lose perspective and tend to complicate matters. Exaggerate our predicaments to be life ending when they were actually far from it. I, on the other hand, REALLY was presented with one of those life ending moments. This could be it for me.
In those fleeting seconds I was left to search myself. I could admit defeat and give away everything I had worked my whole life for. Even those I hadn't but still got...my family...Mason
Or I fight.
There would be no guarantee of success but it seemed like a better way to go. This was the first time in my career that I came to that realization. My will to survive was so great but not by my own doing. It was so because I had people I didn't want to hurt. That I needed to protect. I couldn't do such from the grave.
The answer came easily after that.
I turned on my heels and took in a deep breath. What went down in the next few seconds would determine my fate. One thing I never was-was a flake. I never second guessed myself once a agreement was met and now was not the time to start. I reined my nerves like a seasoned Jockey and concentrated on a singular goal. Survival. I reloaded my gun and cocked it with a steely resolve.
No man.
No weapon.
Nothing would stand in my way.
The marching grew exponentially in percussion. Instead of scaring me, it fuelled my flamed determination. I hungered for it. We'd been trained for this exact ordeal back in the mother-land. With my back against the wall. I would take no prisoners.
I was outnumbered and-out gunned. But far from being out matched.
As soon as the first man appeared in full view I was like a machine. On total autopilot. I honed in on any warm body and he was a target. The scene seemed to play out in slow motion before my eyes when it was actually happening in real time. I walked with confidence and intent. A progressive stride as if I had some built in heat sensor.
Bang.
Bang.
Then Bang Again. My own gunfire was the only distinguishable sound I registered.
When I finally snapped out of autopilot, I glanced down at the carnage I had caused. As if from a third person's perspective, I was completely removed from the situation. Cold. No emotion. The blood bath around me depicted six men down. I'm sure it was my training taking over. No conscience cognitive thought but rather precision muscle memory guiding me. Intuitive.
I did as Dario instructed, one more turn later and I had struck gold. The last open entry was way into the reserved sections of the building. I slid in with a couple seconds to spare before the thick cobalt doors descended from the roof and sealed the section shut with an authoritative thud.
I engaged my com-link again, "Dario, I'm in." The two worded confirmation Dario had been waiting to hear for the better part of the night. I heard the laboured exhale of relief following my statement. The joint burden of my predicament had taken its toll on him, surprising me.
I crossed the floor to what I saw was the CEO's office door with a long abandoned sense of stealth. I shot off the lock. I could have used the key card but subtlety and grace where social conventions long lost to me at that point. I was tired, beat up and just wanted to go home.
The large room was illuminated in a blue haze by the full moon still shinning high in the sky. The light cast long shadows along the eloquently furnished room. Two lengths of the rectangular office were covered by ceiling high windows. He, who I had assumed was male, decorated his office with leather bound chairs, thick expensive rugs, dark wood furniture with gold trimmings. The stuff office dreams were made of- corner office and all. Not to mention his six-figure salary.
I strolled over to the obnoxiously large bookshelf he had on one side of the office. I scoffed at the unoriginal idea behind it. As if every other pretentiously wealthy executive hadn't thought up this clichéd idea before. In so many out-dated blockbusters before him. I had studied the layout and design of this office from corner to corner. There was no square inch I hadn't scrutinized and cross-examined-this had to be it.
I ran a lazy finger over the center shelf and...bingo. I tapped the specific book cover again and it sounded far too dense to be just an ordinary paperback. I pulled on it carefully and with an encouraging click, the book case swung open revealing a large steel vault.
As stated before, predictable.
I looked down at my ornate wristwatch for the first time tonight. It was always wrong. That was okay by me, because it was never meant to count time but rather to counting down. I unclasp the watch and detached the two wrist bands.
"Setting the explosive, how far is my ride?" I asked Dario
"They've been on standby; I'm giving them the green light to approach now. Nice job, Shadow," he said as I peeled off the back cover of the watch to reveal the sticky adhesive and attached it to the center of the vault where the locking mechanism was located. The watch blinked green twice and flashed eighty seconds, then began its countdown.
Next on my agenda, I set my eyes on the large California red wood desk. It seemed to carry an air of importance with all the confectionery ordaining it: title plaque, sleek desktop computer and gold colored lamp. And now it had an auxiliary function. Aiding me. I walked up to it, admired the look of corporate America for a second before tossing all contents off the polished surface and on to the floor.
I tapped the side of the desk with my foot as a test. It certainly felt weighty enough for the job I had in mind. The harder job now was to move it over to the furthest corner of the room. I silently cursed its heavy set as I heaved and hauled it laboriously to its new destination closer to the large windows.
I ran a hand over my sweat covered forehead and through my damp hair and released a huff of exhausted air. This had been a very taxing night for me on all accounts. I needed a holiday after this. Request to be put off active duty for a while. I shook my head at the likeliness of that occurrence. But I could dream.
I shucked myself out of the coveralls I was wearing to reveal the white tank top and black cargo pants I wore underneath. The belt was actually a cleverly disguised harness, as I was getting set to bind myself to the large solid wood desk. The force generated from the explosion in such a confined space could have me hurtling down twenty-three stories if I didn't have an anchor. The reflective reinforced glass windows wouldn't withstand the force that was about to erupt.
I secured myself to two of the legs and braced myself. The only warning I got before the thunderous boom was a high pitched beeping noise followed by the blast. It was a far louder than I had anticipated. A prototype the agency tech squad was trying out on the field.
The sound vibrated along the floor, rippling up the walls and travelled through the small office space before shattering the floor-to-ceiling windows in a piercing and splintering display of glass shards.
With the glass `walls' demolished, a strong gust of wind was unleashed and rushed in at a rapid speed. It began to swirl around the now open space, whipping my hair into a frenzy around my face. The once pristine office had just become a gaping crevice in the building outer structure.
I mouthed the word `ouch' as my ears rang and I instinctively rubbed my index fingers over them.
"Shadow, are you alright?" Dario asked.
"Yeah, sure. But we are not using that stupid watch thing again," I said in a resolute tone as the ringing in my ears began to subside.
I stood up and surveyed the carnage around me. What was once a really posh looking executive office now looked like Hiroshima after the nukes hit. Debris and dust making up the general appearance of the area.
My eyes travelled past the clutter and headed for the very obvious new crater in the wall by the bookcase. The solid steel door was clean off its hinges and lying flat on the ground. The tiny explosive was deceptive in its power- ergo defective if you ask me. All it had to do was blow the lock off and I would just push the door open. I hopped onto the discarded door and entered the small vault.
In there were a few novelties. An antique clock, a pre-nup agreement and the last piece was what I was after. The Trade Agreement contract. With this we had gained leverage over Omega and its web of vast subsidiaries. A direct violation of UN protocol and governmental law, there would be severe penalties for those associated, unless they played nice. Thanks to me the KGB had them by the proverbial balls.
I skimmed my eyes briefly over its content although it was none of my concern. Just then a hum caught my attention. It started off faintly in the distance and then grew in intensity. The sounds of helicopter propellers cutting through the night air as it approached could be heard. I stood at the edge of floor and watched as a distant light became bigger and grew closer. I rolled up the document and stuffed it into the front of my pants secured by the waistband.
Because of its large instruments the helicopter could only come so close to the side of the building before its blades crashed into the structure, so once a safe hovering distance was established the agent inside motioned for me to jump on board. I nodded in understanding, took a couple paces backwards before launching into a full sprint but just as I reached the end of my run a strong gust of wind blew violently, swaying the helicopter further away. I dug my heels, crouched as close to the ground as possible trying to kill my forward momentum effectively before I went over the edge. I skidded to a halt at the face of the twenty-four floor drop. I teetered on the very edge, my arms flailing and my body leaning at a dangerously acute angle to the ground far below. On the very tips of my toes, I contracted every muscle in my body and pulled, regaining enough balance to fall back into the building.
Seated on my ass, I watched as the aircraft oscillated in the air like a pendulum- wavering and unpredictable as the wind had its way with it. The gust soon died down and left a reflective calm at its wake. In the relative comfort of the office floor I chastised myself, but of course no part of this mission had run smoothly-why would my extraction break the hexed pattern? I let out a brief sigh, choosing to take this in stride and got up to make a second attempt at the jump. I was far too exhausted to dwell on the `what ifs' at this point.
This time I stayed on my mark long enough to survey for any mischievous breeze, before I sprinted down and leaped off the edge of the building. Successfully into the helicopter where a black man had an arm out and helped me climb the rest of the space inside.
+++============++++++++++++++++=============+++
"I'm agent Coetzee. It's nice to finally put the name to a face", he grinned once I had the appropriate headsets on so I could hear him as we travelled through the night sky.
"I must say, we were quite concerned when you didn't call for extraction at the designated time," he said with the same charming smile he had when he helped me in. I could hear him clearly now despite the loud hammering of the rotors. I don't know why but I instantly felt uneasy in his company. Something about the man just didn't rub me the right way. He seemed sly, like there was a serpent teeming right beneath the surface of the bright- toothed facade.
"I ran into some...complications," I answered shortly. Inside there were only three occupants of the chopper. The pilot, agent Coetzee and myself. I was sitting across from the man with the pilot right behind him. I figured we were at near full capacity in the small aircraft; only one more person could fit in by my estimation.
"I see. I've looked at your file. Quite impressive for someone...your age, well for any junior agent really. Graduated first in your class... in case you didn't know. They don't give out awards for these things but I feel they should," again I felt my instincts tingling. Call it Spidey sense. But I was never wrong about someone. He seemed to be trying to gauging me. For what? I didn't know but I wasn't about to fall for it.
"Well now I do, thank you," I answered briefly.
"Not much of a talker huh?"
I shook my head to bring that point home. I learned that in situations like these, it was often best to say as little as possible, until I got a better read of this guy or his intentions were made clear.
"Alrighty then. The document if you will?" he asked as his eyes hardened visibly but his smile never faltered. I admit I could be mistaken. Allowing room for error and he was simply not my kind of person- no hidden agendas. Or conversely, he was precisely what I thought he was and my paranoia was justified.
For all I know, he could have been sent by my handlers to evaluate me without me being any wiser. An informal debriefing. I tend to air on the side of caution on these kind of matters and so I'd opt for the latter assumption.
I gave him a careful once over and respondent in turn, "Rank."
"Excuse me?"
That's when his features shifted for the first time tonight. His brows furrowed deeply as he looked at me like I had sprouted a second head.
"No offence agent Coetzee, but you expect me to hand over a document of interest. One I had to spend the better part of tonight dodging bullets for. I'd like to know I was leaving it in the correct hands," I said very flatly punctuated by a pointed look in the end. Yeah, I didn't like this guy.
"Whoa you hear that Marty? The kid wants to know that he's giving the doc to the right people!" he said over his shoulder to the pilot in a mock-impressed tone.
"Kid, trust me. I wouldn't play chaperone tonight if I wasn't the intended drop off. Now why don't you gimme that nice piece of paper," he stated and in another first in our brief one-two, he dropped the pretentious smile. His face was a staggering difference when not pulled into a tight smile. Hard and respectfully intimidating. I guess that was the desired effect since his Barney impersonation hadn't done the trick.
I reached into my pants and produced the document. His eyes softened just a bit as he saw what he wanted and stretched out his hand. I looked at the proffered hand and spoke again. Hushed, almost a whisper.
"Rank?"
"You little-," he took a deep breath from what I understood to be the beginning of his unraveling. Who was sent to shake up whom again? I wasn't in the least bit frightened by his kind. I'd dealt with them all before.
My division was prepared for what some would call a hostile working environment. But that's the thing these `seniors' misunderstood. They were not MY seniors. We didn't fear nor take orders from anyone but our immediate superiors.
Arbitrary lines drawn between the KGB and its inter-agencies. Though very vivid to us LoneStar operatives, of course. I would easily disregard any order from the main agency if it were in direct contradiction to what I was instructed to do by LoneStar. That's why we sort of amassed a bad rep with the older agents. Our loyalties were somewhat murky at best and most of them still didn't understand how we came to be. An enigma. Our program was beyond most agent's clearance level, except a select few at the very top.
So that was my sole reasoning behind my question which I felt entitled to. I had long mastered my poker face and knew he saw nothing more now than what he had before.
He turned his head away from me for a minute. I began to wonder what he was up to before his shoulders began to shake. It later dawned on me that he was laughing. Weird. This new turn may have struck me as odd but it would never register on my face.
"Jeepers man! I was told you LoneStar kids were hardcore -but shit! You're something kid, had me trippin' there for a second. Fine, I'll give you my identification code. Would that suffice?"
I nodded my ascent.
"Charlie, Tango, 0743," he responded.
"Dario, did you get that?" I asked my trusty intel who had been silent up until this point.
"Yeah, I just ran that in our system software. He checks, do you want me to read out his credentials?" he asked.
"No, that's enough," I handed over the manila colored document to the other man.
"Good man. Ya know, after meeting one of you, I see how the rumors could be true. A lot of agents see you guys as loose cannons. Cold, calculating with no form of allegiance. I'm looking into your eyes and yet I see nothing. Even with our training we can't be as emotionally devoid as ya'll. Now I get it. They have a lot invested in ya'll, that's all I was told."
The tension in the space began to dissipate as soon as the exchange was completed. Now it was just left to them to get me home. I was pretty certain that he would keep further conversation to a minimum. And I was correct in my assessment that he was trying to gauge me. Character profiling... field training 101, ironic how I had flipped it around on him.
"But I must know one thing though, how do you do it?" he asked after a relatively pleasant silence.
"Do what?" Despite my prior opinion of him I asked with a considerably lessened bite.
"Live with a host family your entire life, knowing that soon you're going to turn on them. Maybe have to kill them yourself. How do you separate the two? I know I have to live out my personal life vicariously to negate the Bull shit I witness on the job."
That left me short of breath instantly. The answer to his question was simple though. I had made that very same discovery earlier that evening. I couldn't. That wasn't the problem, however, the consequence of that notion were. What would it mean for me?
I would rather die first before having my family be in harm's way and for as long I could remember I had taken all the necessary precautions to ensure their continued safety. But to what extent? I guess I hadn't thought that far out because I hadn't a clue myself. This was much bigger than me and the conflicting stimulus from what I know and what I feel were constantly warring within me. I was simply too exhausted for this kind of thinking.
"I get my instructions. I execute them. In that order. That`s all you need to concern yourself with," and for the rest of the journey I sort of spaced out. Contemplating the not so abstract future. How would I go about explaining to my family what I do? I could easily get them new IDs and passports but how to convince them to leave without me? Would they listen? Or reject me as the fraud I am?-The inevitable rejection.
It has always been the one thing I dreaded most from them. It's a fine trick I do. Walking the tight rope every day and hoping not to lose my balance. Being the only imperfect member in an otherwise perfect family. If there was any one fear I could name and could never tame. That would be it.
=====+++=====
The scenarios occupied my thoughts, even as I climbed the stairs of the darkened house. Everyone must have been in deep sleep by now. That worked in my favor. I could only imagine I wasn't in a very appealing state. In fact, I was pretty certain that with sweat stains, ash and dried blood that I looked like the walking dead.
I walked into my room, dropped my bag on the floor and made a bee line for the bathroom down the hall. I share a bathroom with Justin and Mathew, Tori being the only girl got the room with the ensuite.
I got inside the bathroom and locked door knowing I'd probably be in there for quite a while. I avoided looking into the vanity mirror once I was set before it. I gripped the sides of the rectangular box and moved it in a figure seven and the entire cabinet swung to the side to reveal a cubic holding space I had back there in the wall. It was shallow and couldn't hold very much. It was essentially bare except for two small cases. One being a first aid kit and the other holding a standard 9mm pistol and Chinese dagger.
I rolled out the first aid kit and began to clean out my wounds with a cotton ball. Tedious work since most of them had begun their steady healing already looking a day or two old. The real task garnered some mixed feelings from me. I had to draw a couple samples of blood. This would be delivered at a specified drop off site where some doctor or other would study it.
For all I know all of this has been one big experiment and I was still being tested on. The clinical trial could have been the first stage. I may have left the labs but not the human trial. Something about that didn't sit well with me anymore. Actually none of it did. Funny, since I've been poked and prodded long before I could even walk. It should be like second nature by now. Then why now did it seem so intrusive-like I had been violated somehow? Dehumanized.
I leaned against the basin as the small tube steadily filled with my blood. I had become numb to the process. It was the same after every mission. I figured that the heads at LoneStar wanted to ensure that their investments don't spontaneously combust at any point. Furthermore that we didn't set off any red flags at customs or hospitals when health records were retrieved. All part of the bigger picture.
The bigger illusion.
Done drawing blood, I went ahead and rinsed my face, attempting to wash off the stubborn dried up blood. That's when I decided a shower would probably do a better job.
After the conversation with agent Coetzee I had fallen into a deep daze. I couldn't quiet shake the feeling of foreboding that was brooding within me. The problem was that I was starting to experience my own kind of emotional turmoil.
I was conflicted because I wasn't as immune as I had once believed. In fact, I don't think I ever was. I was just that astute at deception that I had myself fooled too.
I stood unmoving under the showerhead for what began to feel like hours. This shower sucked. No conducive thoughts were coming from it. Instead I was waging a war I had no business taking part in at this hour of the night..well morning now since it was 03:33 am.
I flung a towel around my narrow waist and strolled up the sleepy halls and back into my room where I quickly threw on something old, not bothering with the light switch. I did have great night vision in any case. But something was amiss.
Only then did I stop dead in my tracks. I don't know how I had missed it the first time I was in here. With my head the chaotic mess it was, I was way too preoccupied to pick up the signs. But now I was frozen in place with my back partially turned to the rest of the room from my open closet door.
I wasn't alone.
The next move didn't come from me but rather from my bed which was in the center of the room. Two pairs of eyes were staring right at me. In the dark I couldn't make out the color but I knew very well who they belonged too.
I took a deep breath to steady my breathing and spoke in a hushed tone. "You shouldn't be in here."
He didn't answer, just carried on staring. I turned in place now that I was adequately dressed.
"You have your own bed you know?" and I was rewarded with a sleepy smile.
"Mom said you wouldn't be back. I didn't see you this whole week," my little brother explained in a comically sleepy state. He had a habit of sleeping in my room whether I was in it or not. We never questioned it. It was part of the strange attachment the little guy had to me.
The second pair of eyes belonged to the dog, Jet. You couldn't split those two apart even if you tried. So naturally it had acquired Mathew's affinity to me too. I slipped into bed on the opposite side that he was on. Mind you, not the usual side I sleep on but I'd let that slide for the night. I still had remnants of a headache throbbing and my ribs ached something awful.
"Hmm-hmm sorry about that buddy. Busy week. But we'll talk about that in the morning okay?"
"Okay," he replied.
He yawned most of that before he snuggled closer to me which to this day I still instinctively stiffened up at first contact. He was used to this though; it didn't seem to bother him at all because he'd always just wait it out. Ride it out, he understood me. I let out a hesitant sigh and tried to relax into the warm covers. Content as I listened to my younger brother`s breathing deepen as he fell back asleep.