Professional Documents
Culture Documents
o This is noncanon as it will serve as a fluid foundation for the rest of my
story. Once the entire story is written, I will repair any inconsistencies. As
of now, this story is not cemented in stone.
o All names have been changed except for mine. If you want your name to be
different, by all means…do something about it. Email me with
suggestions, call me, post on the Facebook wall, whatever.
o Calvin is a scrub.
o Any requests for this story will be thoroughly accepted and contemplated.
o This is to be viewed as if it were a video game script. I will put in various
music cues when necessary (Modified Title, Title, Album.)
o Refer to the last sentence in bullet point #3.
o The Characters in this story are founded upon the basic characteristics of
people I know. Because I have decided to change the names of these
people to fictional references, these characters are now belong to me
(intentional error). If you do not wish to be a part of my story, don’t worry.
You are not a part of my story. My fictional representation of you is. Get
it?
o There is a sequel but I have not finished it yet. You will get it as soon as I
deem it appropriate to be seen by bloody eyes. EDIT: a future of
destruction (sequel 1/5) is 5/6 finished.
o The poems in this story were originally designed to give it a fusion
between different forms of writing but they are discontinued. Please find
them fun to read. Also, they will be removed upon the complete
finalization of this text and any relevance to the story will be retranslated
into prose.
o This is long. Please make sure to bookmark your last point. Total 131
pages at 12 pt. Times or Times New Roman.
o Bullet point number 3 is the only thing in this list you needed to read.
THE NONFICTIONAL ACCOUNTS of the ATROCIOUS WAR
PROLOGUE
In the Crosshairs: Alternate Endings are more fun than television
Wings spreading, taking flight
From the forests of the night
Flying directly toward the light
Did our dove fly out of sight
Wind rushing past its beak
Clouds forming, colors weary and bleak
Hoping for safety, defenses weak
Away from these clouds, our dove did seek
Diving and dodging all sorts of frights
The bird withstood all the fights
Directed to its thin little head
…and maybe a little lead
To the right came a painful shock
As it witnessed lightning’s violent mock
His very existence with energetic
Attacks that now seem quite pathetic
So, the bird summoned all of its might
And sped to a greater height
To prevent any further slight
Painful sensations on the right
Up and to the left
Our tiny dove powerfully swept
Moving its wings quick and swift
Using the talent God gave as a gift
And then it happened; the storm did pass
Rising up from off its ass
Plowing through the winds of the sky
The maelstrom did proceed to die
As the clouds maneuvered separate ways
Our lovely dove welcomed the sunny rays
A sigh of relief from harms unknown
And our dove survived it did all on its own
I remember that cold November morn, adrenaline coursing through my heart. ‘Twas like
the wind on a stormy night that calms the soul. The moment you close your eyes you
forget how to fear and feel…and also how to love. Pulling the trigger that ends another’s
life always remains difficult, but that day it was easy. My heart filled with rage and fury
brought to an end the countless, but not worthless, scum that are only remembered as a
“To Do” list. There isn’t a day that goes by that I recall how it all began and what
consequences a few pounds of pressure to a crescent object produced. I have no regrets
but if I were to have any, that day would most assuredly encompass all of my sins. That is
if I believed in sin. I know who I am and what I have done. That is why I only tell my
enemies one thing before they fall like timber: “Remember…remember the Nineteenth of
November…”
Agony: As printed in the Nonfictional Account of the Atrocious War (War of Attrition)
Book I: Everything that has a beginning…
In the Crosshairs
November 19, 2004
The rain was pouring down in sheets. The temperature found its way to the bottom of the
thermometer as November winds raged the landscape.
“This is Major Brock Bergan of the Special Weapons and Tactics squad, Atlanta Division.
David Jackson, this is your last chance to end this peaceably and without casualty. I won’t
promise immunity but what I can offer is a hopeful future. If you continue murdering
innocent civilians, I will do as my predecessors have done. I will end your pathetic life
with that which you derive your power. We will not hesitate to shoot you on sight. This is
your last chance, come out with your hands above your...!” The megaphone in his hand
exploded with tremendous force, pieces scattering like the very civilians around him.
Bergan dove to the side and looked around to see any sort of muzzleflash. Everyone else
had that look of dazed perplexity. “What the fuck just happened?”
David cocked his head back to a normal position as he pulled the bolt back and released
the empty shell.
“You can’t win…” David slammed the bolt back into place, securing another live shell
into action. Nobody knew it then but it was today that put kindling on the fire and
eventually gave rise to a world war. A world war that was so horrible as to get its own
name instead of the prefix “World War” and the sequential number “3” or Roman
numeral “III”. David felt superior and on top of a mountain no one could unseat him
from. No one could usurp his power. They all bowed before him as if he were a god.
But Bergan was not as calm as David was. He had a job to do and this kid kept thwarting
his every turn. This kid was destroying his reputation. This kid made a mental scar that
would haunt Bergan until the day he died. Beaten by a kid…as if!
The water pelted his $500 coat his mother had given him for Christmas.
He turned to police Chief Wesley O’Neil,
“He’s all yours until you find him. Then he’s mine!” He gave O’Neill a cold glance of
determination. “Understand?! I want that kid’s body in cuffs or coffin by the hour!”
O’Neil agreed with his old friend, “So lethal force is authorized?” He wanted to end this
as quickly as possible. He too had a wife waiting for him at home. Dinner dates should
never be broken in the O’Neill home. If you make a promise, you keep it. He looked
down at his shiny boots and saw the water sliding down his blue pants. Now he would
have to dryclean them again. What a waste this week had been. Oil changes, bills, and
car payments; capitalism was beginning to show its weaker sides. He only believed in it
because he saw what happened with the other systems. Complete totalitarianism is worse
than paying $300 a month on a Jeep Grand Cherokee.
“So lethal force is authorized Major Bergan?”
Bergan turned to O’Neill.
“If that boy so much as points a gun at a tree, kill him. No child is going to rise above the
American system of justice just because he can snipe better than our military. If you do
happen to secure him alive, a punch to the gut will suffice. I have paperwork to finish
before moving to Colorado and do not have time to babysit for a boy with a gun. As I
said before, he is to be in cuffs or coffin on the hour. Dead or alive, I want that boy in my
custody by the end of the school day, do you understand me Chief O’Neill?”
O’Neil put on a big smile, “45 minutes at the most Sir!” O’Neill turned to his second in
command who had been waiting patiently for orders.
“Do it. You have 45 minutes and I will be timing you.”
The officer saluted his superior; “I’ll get him to you by the half hour!”
With that the second officer proceeded to sound the alarm and with it went the Atlanta
SWAT team.
Bergan turned yet again to his colleague, “Brilliant! If you do that every day, you may just
end up replacing me. But don’t get overconfident; that’s when fate bites you in the foot.”
Famous words to die by…
O’Neil folded his arms and rubbed his chest to bring back the feeling.
“Me, overconfident?”
The SWAT teams piled out of the tents and into a huddle.
The second officer gave his orders, “There is a young boy out there, 17, who is wielding
the most powerful sniper rifle man has ever created. It has no pity for bone strength…”
and with a grave look, “…or wall strength. This rifle doesn’t know what the density of a
wall is. It only blasts through the concrete or steel with blinding speed and unrivaled
power…well save a tank or God. Having never seen one, I can’t speak from experience,
but Bergan can thanks to Operation Desert Storm. The rifle we are up against reduces
concrete to JellO. Now you may ask me why I am being so contrived as to think we have
no chance in beating this sniper? I am not so contrived to think so. A rifle is only as weak
as the man or woman who wields it. Guns don’t kill people; people kill people. Now I
want us today to justify the deaths of those murdered here by an unjust son of a bitch.
This boy supposedly wants justice. Let’s give it to him the American way.”
The SWAT officers shouldered their rifles and carried out their first objective: secure the
buildings.
They finished strapping themselves into their gear and began their trek toward the first
building. The leader pointed to the right and then left followed by the ‘go’ signal. The
SWAT team sprung into action and quickly began its clearing of the area.
Calvin heard the megaphone’s ultimatum and was relieved.
Finally the SWAT team is here. Now David will hopefully end this game of his. I am
going to make him pay for what he did to the others…and April. Calvin cornered his
eyebrows.
He carefully moved through the hedges making absolutely sure not to cause any
commotion. He wouldn’t want to incur any fatal mistakes. He checked his scope and
carefully shifted the butt of the stock in order to find his target.
David entered the crosshairs, all 200+ pounds of him. The strange irony about a crosshair
resides in the very fact that it is an equilateral cross. An equilateral cross serves as a
reminder to the shooter that murder is illegal by divine authority. Calvin dropped his rifle
slowly, his heart tearing apart under psychological strain.
“I can’t kill him…” I can’t kill a friend. Such sentences can never lose their impact.
He knew it all too well. If he killed James, a life of despair and judicial annoyance would
drag him through the mud along with his very existence. But by leaving David alive, he
could be putting countless lives in danger including his very own. It looked like Calvin
was in a moral predicament. Killing his best friend could cause emotional and social
damage but leaving David alive was no Halloween treat either. The answer was staring
him dead in the face. He had a choice but we already know the choice had been made a
long time ago. Now Calvin had to understand the meaning behind the choice.
“What happens if I leave you alive? Do you continue murder or do you give up your life
of destruction? I can’t! No I will not kill you. I stand for more than just people. I stand for
ideas and killing you would only make me stoop to your barren level of thought. No…I’ll
hit you where it hurts the most.”
David sat up in his Pole of Justice brooding on the various options he had. He could stay
and risk death…or he could climb down and sneak up behind his opponent.
This is where James’s choice diverges from what was fated. His choice changed the
story’s outcome greatly. (Hint: This is where my universe diverges from Landon’s.)
“Now for the escape plan…yes. Now the world will watch in horror as one of its greatest
cities loses to a child.”
He pulled out the detonator and placed his thumb on the future. Yes…the future.
“You can’t win…”
David pushed the button.
The bombs he had planted on the sides of Richardson and Brewster erupted as planned.
Their energy released flame and destruction upon those in the vicinity and trapped the
SWAT team in a fiery blaze. The cold rain and flame provided a wonderful contrast that
livened the situation.
“Now it’s over. I am 17 years old and already fighting a losing battle. Let us see how they
like this.”
Flashback
“You’re an unfair bitch!” James’s face came within inches of the head Dean of Students,
Margaret Sherril. David’s anger boiled in front of her. He turned around and picked up his
bag. Proceeding directly to the car David raised his middle finger over his shoulder and
aimed it back at everyone. Beatrice Folgers just stood there along with everyone else with
mouths and eyes wide open. David slammed the door shut. They’ve pushed me to the
point of hitting my own friend! What have I done? David fought with himself internally
as he answered the usual questions like “How could you do this?” and “What options do I
have to fix this?’. They were the easy questions. Now he had to answer the most harsh and
dark of them all.
How do I get revenge on the people who drove me to harm my best friend?
David ran away the following night to the forests of Tennessee. Luckily, he ran into an old
man who did more than take care of him. This man, calling himself Eddie, helped answer
James’s burning questions and even told him a secret on how to extract his revenge.
Eddie, or Edward Ross, trained David to be the best sniper ever. He even told David to
shy away from people in general.
“They dig through private trash cans in order to “expose” wrongdoing. Two wrongs don’t
make a right they say...” is exactly what Eddie Ross would tell James. He would tell him
that spinning the truth is necessary as long as the public inevitably finds it. Eddie was a
real hero who tried to innovate and was ignored by sick and twisted individuals who were
insecure with their positions. Eddie knew in his heart that something had to be done. In
Vietnam, Ross had been working undercover as a member of the COBRAS.
Unfrotunately, Ross decided that he no longer felt love for his country. “They were
heading on a path shared by many empires before them. Nothing could stop the New
Rome from becoming an empire of evil. He, with the majority consent of his unit,
defected to the Soviet Union. Treason was heard and punished and Edward Ross was
brought in for treason. He evaded and went underground with the help of Charles Hagan,
who had already left the group for the Soviets. After the loss of Ross, the COBRAS
elected Brock Bergan as their leader. Brock realigned the COBRAS with America and
Ross was pardoned under the Clinton Administration under the giant act of amnesty. He
returned to the States and bought a home in the valleys of Tennessee. It was here that he
lived until his death.
Eddie Ross taught David his personal opinion on politics, the left and right. Ross believed
that a true American votes for the best candidate and not for his/her politics but for his/her
programs. It is ridiculous to count the number of people before Ross who continue to say
this yet bipartisan politics continue. He knew that politics was the true corrupting factor
in government and not the people or money. It was politics that was holding back the true
power of America. He held dearest to his heart the words of our esteemed Father, George
Washington, “Do not favor political parties”. Unfortunately, Ross’s opinions did have
resounding problems inherently left alone to satisfy his beliefs. This is why Ross gave
David the chance to correct these flaws. David believed that political parties helped
Americans distinguish between what they want and do not want.
Many, including Hagan, disagreed with Ross about this. Politics does not corrupt, money
does. Hagan saw Congress as the second purest branch with the Executive being the least.
Hagan hated the Presidency.
Washington was always known as the mediator between the two sides that arose out of the
ashes that were the Articles of Confederation. This act of impartiality fascinated the
young and old Ross alike. It was to be the credo he would die for. The country he fought
for, hunted by, and plotted against would forever live in his heart. His unit, the COBRAS,
would always fight with the best interests of man at heart. Right now, mankind’s best
interest is America.
Eddie had been at the end of his life and the fates conspired to bring David and him
together. Eddie died of natural causes, leaving David his fortune of wisdom, his artillery,
and the ownership of his unit. David Jackson accepted Eddie’s codename of Agony and
complete control of the unit but under one condition: the removal of Brock Bergan.
After Eddie had passed. David lifted his favorite rifle, the .50 caliber Barrett, and began
packing it. He had been told about Bergan’s final weeks as head of the SWAT team in the
Atlanta city. David, being from Atlanta, decided to privilege Eddie’s dying breath with
the blood of Brock Bergan…or at least his pride.
“This is for you Eddie. Now it is time to produce your vision for all to see. It is time for
America to live forever in the hearts of man.”
Three months later, David began climbing down the tower from which he had won
revenge and reached the ground.
Not even half a mile away, a redheaded boy named Calvin Livingston flew up into the air
and landed with a thud. Calvin had been knocked unconscious after being hurled twenty
feet by the magnificent blast. Amazingly surviving this blast was a sheer twist of fate in
and of itself. His short red hair burned the same color as the flames rising above him. The
last thing Calvin saw before succumbing to sleep was his rifle sliding across the ground
fifteen feet away and the silhouette of David approaching. A grin lay on his face. Calvin
tried to get up and stay awake at first by calling out the names of those he feared for but to
no avail.
First was the name of his bane, coming out through clenched teeth, “David…”
The second name, his lost friend, came out with a cry, “Carson…”
And the last name, the thing making him humane was barely heard as if it were a whisper
on the wind, “April…”
Catching up to the present from a different POV
Calvin closed his eyes and remembered. He remembered why at 16 he was hiding in the
foliage of his high school with a highpowered rifle.
David Jackson had been his friend with whom he shared many weekends. But this
summer had changed David to a point where Calvin had needed to distance himself. It
started when David had his 17th birthday party. Carson Royal, a friend at the time, had
decided to be cute and give David a run for his money. He knew how their egos conflicted
and how they were similar. Carson knew that if he taunted David at his house and on his
birthday, the element of comedy would give him something to laugh about for years to
come. Carson’s plan backfired when David outsmarted him in a game of poker, which led
Carson to accuse David of cheating. Words were passed and before long, they were
enacting the art of war. Their fists began to fly but not for long. Calvin stepped in to stop
the violence, inevitably being the cause for what was to later happen that night. In a
sense, Calvin was the reason Carson framed David for drug possession. Carson’s pride
had been torn to shreds by Calvin’s interruption. He thoroughly believed in his ability to
take David down. In a fit of temper and desperation to seek revenge, he and a few others
at the party went off into another room of the house to engage in illegal activities and
took pictures using a camera phone. These pictures were then shown to the dean of
students of their private school who saw fit to expel David. Days later, David fled to the
mountainous state of Tennessee where he ran into MajorGeneral Edward Ross. Vowing
justice and vengeance, David used the .50 caliber rounds of the Barrett antivehicle sniper
rifle to realign the karmas.
Having caught up to the present from a different point of view, David pulled out the
detonator to his backup plan. C4 and other plastic explosives were placed as a crescent
shield for his getaway. As soon as he pushed the button, fire and building materials would
bar anyone from passing injunction on his escape. Calvin checked the covered catwalk on
the stadium light post, the one that had been under repair for half a semester.
Calvin saw David remove some sort of device from his bag. The detonator was obvious
and understood. “Clever, David. Extremely clever.” Calvin said as he closed his eyes in
preparation for his first flight. The Wright brothers would be proud. Calvin noticed the
universe seemed to ease its rotation for just this moment. He remembered a game he had
played that had a quote describing this exact situation. He put it into his own words.
When staring at your fate down the barrel of a gun, time loses its constancy. Time is but a
variable that is nothing more than a subjective interpretation of an objective truth.
Calvin said his last words before the explosion forced him into unconsciousness. “I am
not having a good day at all. I’d rather be reading this in a book.” David pushed the
button.
Calvin cursed as he felt the giant explosion launch him onto the baseball field some
twenty feet away. He landed with considerable force. David laughed as he put away the
detonator, packed his bag, and descended the stadium light. After putting his bag in his
trunk, David walked to his prey. The body was limp and quiet, covered in scrapes and
blood. David kicked the Walther 2000 to the side.
Pole of Justice
(Inspiration for the title Pole of Justice:
“I Love you Mike but I can’t go through with it.”
“Elsa, if you don’t climb the Pole of Justice, who knows what will happen?”
“Okay Mike, I trust you.”
<Cheap ass porno music plays>)
Anyway, David landed on the ground carrying his bag of weapons.
“Now to end Calvin’s pathetic love story.”
He pulled out his Deagle.
“.50 caliber. I’d like to see Calvin trick me out of shooting this one.”
He made it to his car and put his bag in the trunk. He then proceeded to head towards the
baseball field where his prey awaited him.
As David was rounding the track toward the baseball field, the Atlanta SWAT team was
making its way, in groups, toward the stadium. The school buildings had been cleared and
the green light had been given to go in and clear the stadium.
David entered the baseball diamond. He picked up Calvin’s WA2000 and checked the
magazine and the chamber.
“Plenty of ammunition. Now where were we my little dove?’
He aimed the Walther at Calvin’s head but stopped.
“Ah hell! Now the guilt arises! Why couldn’t it have come up earlier?”
He put all his effort and energy into his trigger finger but he just couldn’t kill someone as
helpless as Calvin. It was weird. He had just murdered 12 civilians and now he couldn’t
pull the trigger. Maybe friendship does have a bond stronger than a thousand Olympians.
He stood there for a few moments contemplating his predicament when he heard the
gunfire. The SWAT team had spotted him. “Get him!!!” They screamed in cliché
mockery.
“You somehow were saved here today Calvin and I don’t know why. Maybe we can finish
this the way it was intended. You were a worthy opponent…stay sharp. I will be watching
you.”
David tightened his grip on the Walther and made a dash for the parking lot. Only a week
to freedom and then the future would arrive. The giant Desert Eagle hidden in his back
waistband created an uncomfortable pain that kept David aware of himself. It kept him
running.
<Chase through the Sewer>
David hauled ass towards his Audi A8.
“I succeeded. I proved my worth to the organization. I will be rewarded. Now all I have to
do is outmaneuver the incompetent Atlanta Police. “ The only problem with this
reasoning was the fact that he succeeded. The Atlanta police are incompetent. (Jokes…
yeah…LOL.)
The SWAT team began pursuit, MP5s at the ready.
“He’s headed for the parking lot! Send a support unit ASAP!”
They fired in the general direction praying that one of the many shots fired would be
lucky. Their snipers arrived and began to set up.
David laughed, “Incompetent! Waste your ammunition if you must! You can’t win!”
He reached the gate and barged through while fishing for his car keys.
“One. Two.”
He unlocked all the doors and found the back door handle. He gently lay the Walther
down and slammed the door to his blue Audi.
He started the engine and said with a smile to Calvin from afar, “You were lucky. We’ll
meet again.”
<Man On Fire…Man on Fire OST>
Chief Wesley O’Neil screamed into the radio.
“What do you mean he is on foot?”
Bergan came into the tent with a look of exasperation. That explosion had seriously
crippled their counterattack. They had lost at least seven men.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS GOING ON O’NEIL?!”
Bergan was infuriated that such a small boy had become such a large nuisance. He didn’t
have the patience for incompetence. He had never been taught that failure is okay so long
as you were doing your job correctly. That was the problem with Bergan and others like
him. Everyone was incompetent because they didn’t do it his way.
O’Neil yelled into the radio. “Keep him away from the parking lot! All units converge on
the stadium parking lot located near the uh…” O’Neil checked the schematics, “…near
the practice field. Do not let him get away do you hear me!”
O’Neil released the confirmation button on his walkietalkie.
“He is on foot. Headed toward the parking lot. We have to take care of this one personally
Major.”
Bergan gave a short laugh, “Half an hour huh?”
O’Neil, “So events have taken a turn for the worse. A 17 year old may have excellent
reflexes but he will lack something we do not: experience. He will not get far.”
Bergan patted O’Neil on the back. “Do it for the king of the serpents.”
O’Neil retorted, “Adversus solem ne loquitor.”
Bergan smiled as O’Neil went out to reign in David. The COBRA conspiracy had begun.
O’Neil headed out of the tent and toward the blockade. He walked past the rope and
toward the Atlanta police car he had left there. A reporter walked up to O’Neil wanting an
update.
“Sir, could you give us an update on the situation?”
O’Neil opened the door and barked, “Yeah. Breaking update. You’re standing in the way
of justice. Newer update: If the press has an infatuation with the pavement, I suggest
standing right where you are because I am about to run you over. Good day.”
He jumped in, locked the doors and started the engine. The core block came to life with a
roar. He revved it twice as was his custom during the winter. Wouldn’t want the engine to
freeze over?
The reporters dove out of the way with only one being knocked over by O’Neil’s less than
stellar departure. His back bumper hit a man in the leg.
O’Neil floored it and cornered around the ugly yellow house. He found the road that led
to the parking lot in question and floored it yet again.
Back in the tent, Bergan sat down.
“How can a 17 year old be so downright tricky? It makes no sense. Someone of elite
character must have trained him. No doubt about that. David Jackson, now why does that
name sound so familiar?” Bergan spit out his alcohol upon revelation. “Eddie you sick
bastard! Fuck, that alcohol was expensive!!” Bergan sprinted to his car. He took another
swig from his hip flask. Jack Daniels went a long way when trying to calm down the
body. He brought the engine to life and fought the streets on his way to catch up with
O’Neil. I’ll catch this kid, cause O’Neil to lose him by acting the arrogant son of a bitch
that I am, and then I will let David get away. I’ll meet him in New York and make his new
ID. Then we can head to Colorado.
He put his hip flask away quickly and turned on his radio. He checked the frequencies for
O’Neil.
“O’Neil, this is Bergan.”
O’Neil looked around and saw the kid’s Audi hit the highway. He grumbled as the CB lit
up with chatter, he had no time at the moment to spare.
“Yes Major?” He held the CB microphone to his face.
Major Bergan inquired, “Am I going to get a timetable?”
O’Neil nicely spat into the receiver, “No timetables sir! They would only EMBOLDEN
the enemy!”
O’Neil had had it with Bergan and his somewhat arrogant approach towards police work.
Not to mention his absurd politics. Bergan had lately been spurting ridiculously
incomprehensible ideas. Leftwing secessionists and Canadian big business were
supposedly working together to form a more proactive foreign policy toward Canada.
Wesley O’Neil, Chief of Atlanta’s Police force focused with every ounce of strength he
had on the road. The pedal had already reached maximum acceleration. All O’Neil had to
do was maneuver his craft.
David looked behind him in his rearview mirror with cold anger in his eyes.
“They never learn do they? They constantly choose to persist in manhunts and APBs all
while the enemy gets away. I will…”
At the same time, O’Neil and Jackson both muttered the same phrase.
“I will succeed. I will survive. I will be victorious.” (Okay so only David said the last
two.)
David worked out his plan yet again to assure himself of its reliability.
He had to drive back to Eddie’s and wait for the heat to cool. Then he had to make it to
the UN Headquarters using the ID Eddie had prepared. From there, he had to contact a
man known as Pride.
He looked around him to see three police cars join the already rag tag group of pursuers
on his tail. Now they were only rag tag in James’s eyes. To anyone else they would be
addressed as a convoy.
David was in one hell of a predicament. The SWAT vans swerved into sight.
David saw them approaching him as the Atlanta Braves’ stadium, Turner Field, came into
view.
“Shit!” he exclaimed as a gunshot rang out.
He checked his mirrors to see three or four side passengers aiming Glock pistols out the
window.
They were trying to take out his tires.
“No cop is going to bet against my horse.”
He noted that traffic seemed to be getting heavier the deeper he penetrated into the city.
“Out of my way people! Don’t you hear the sirens!”
He swerved in between a tractortrailer and an old couple in order to keep the police busy.
The old man didn’t take kindly to David cutting him off and the wiry old man attempted
to cut off David. David was broadsided by a Lincoln Navigator.
“SON OF A BITCH!!!”
He looked behind him to see the car’s front bumper make contact with his taillight.
The Lincoln shoved him to the right and James’s car lost control and started to lose
traction. David had slowed down in order to pass this old couple and now regretted it. He
slammed the accelerator down in an instant of heated emotion. The car began to swerve to
the left, but David corrected; overcorrected is a better term. The car swiveled all the way
to the left.
<Max Payne 2 Theme>
David spun the wheel to the right until it could turn no more. The car swiveled most of
the way back to the right until it hit another car: an orange Ford Taurus.
David cursed again with a loud, angry tone. It would be difficult to slip away unnoticed
now.
He picked up speed again but by now O’Neil had caught up.
The window on O’Neil’s car went down and David saw O’Neil pull up his Glock.
O’Neil pulled out his weapon and aimed it out of the open window.
“You forgot one thing about cops, boy: We persist and complain until we get the job done.
Here’s to life in prison!”
<Max’s Duty Corrupted…Max Payne 2 OST>
O’Neil pulled the trigger again and again and brought to an end the reign of the College
Park Sniper.
Bullet tells the truth; A Brave double play
<Bullet tells the truth…Man on Fire>
What happened next was an astonishing battle between the two sides. The bullets went
right into James’s engine and caused major damage to the valves and pistons, even
destroying one. The car slowed and came to a stop. David sat in the car, veins surging to
the surface. O’Neil pulled up and jumped out of the car, gun aimed square at it’s driver.
<Followed…Man on Fire>
“Freeze! Turn off your engine, what’s left of it, and step away from the car. NOW!”
David looked out the window with a face contorted by the throes of agony.
He destroyed my plan. He must DIE!
He pulled the Desert Eagle from his back pocket and fired out through the closed window
and welcomed the pain of shattered glass tearing away his face.
“Six shots. This time I only have six shots. Let’s make the best of what we have.”
He too exited his vehicle and slid over his now useless hood.
“What a shame. It was such a trusty car. At least some Mexican named Jesus wasn’t
responsible. No…it was a fucking cop named O’Neil. You hear me O’Neil! Fuck the
Irish!”
O’Neil heard his opponent’s retort and sarcastically responded in a horrible Irish accent.
“Me mother wouldn’t take lightly to that!”
David checked his surroundings and noticed that the cavalry had not yet arrived. What
were they doing?
David had not yet fully turned off his car. The radio was still blaring. The bridge above
gave David an uneasy feeling.
He ignored it for the time being but it’s haunting truth would soon haunt him like that
ghost Casper.
About ten feet away, O’Neil checked his clip. He had only wasted eight shots. He brought
out a new clip and replaced the old one.
“Good. Looks like I have a fresh clip with David Jackson written all over it. You hear that
sound son!”
He jammed the clip back in.
“What sound”, David sneered, “The crashing sound of glass as I jam a .50 caliber bullet
through your eyeballs?”
He stood up and emptied a shot into the windshield where he had last seen the cop.
He darted to the right as O’Neil got up and emptied two more in James’s direction. One
caught James’s shoulder. He flew to the ground with an “Ommph!” and a burning feeling
as his elbow scraped across the pavement, not to mention the aggravating pain in response
to the bullet.
O’Neil dove back down and yelled back. He had always loved movies.
“The sound of vengeance, the screams of those whom you unnaturally silenced. Their
lives will be avenged.”
“They already have O’Neil. They are the result of life balancing itself out. They insulted
me far beyond what could normally be expected. I stood there in front of my loyal friends
and took a hit to the face from a cold woman who knew no love…only lust!!!”
O’Neil gritted his teeth and moved into a crouching stance. The boy would use his
response to pinpoint his location. He prepared to move…
“But that doesn’t give you the right to murder. You should have left it to God.”
O’Neil sprung to the left and raised up his gun arm, making sure to vent James’s Audi.
They missed their target but gave David the advantage. He now knew where O’Neil was.
“I feel remorse for what I did, that’s for sure. I should have tortured them longer. A quick
death was not befitting of that collection of worthless DRUG USERS!!!!” He jumped up
and fired three bullets into the hood of the car, right where he had O’Neil pinned. No
sound of pain came, only silence.
He’s stalling for time. David knew he was trapped. He heard the radio announce his
demise.
“And the police and SWAT teams have blocked all exits and are heading south on the
northbound lane in order to trap Mr. Jackson. Chief Wesley O’Neil is currently helping to
stall the irate teenager who, earlier this morning, murdered twelve people and wounded
several others. Mr. Jackson is considered a threat to the metro area and we, along with the
Mayor and police forces, strongly encourage civilians to stay off the roads and streets.
This is Cathy Jackson for…”
David turned and took out the annoying chatter clouding his mind. And you call yourself
a Jackson…bitch.
David blew on the barrel just like in the cowboy movies.
“Thank you.” He thanked his powerful gun. He had begun with six, and now there were
none.
What went wrong? How did such a great plan go to waste?
David looked to the right and left and noticed two SWAT members approaching him,
guns raised.
“So this is how it ends?” It was about that time that a quick dart penetrated James’s neck
as five SWAT members roped down and secured the now useless Desert Eagle.
Epilogue to the prologue
Police Chief Wesley O’Neil stepped out from behind his car as the cavalry arrived just in
time to witness David Jackson slip into a vegetative state. (CADNY BARS!!!)
“He’ll be okay?” O’Neil piped up.
One of the medics checked his pulse and noted it on a pad.
“Knowing what he did today Officer, would you care if he died?”
O’Neil responded, “Yes. That son of a bitch tried to deprive my kids of a father today. I
want him to spend some time and reflect on the atrocities he has performed. More than a
half o’ dozen kids will not grow up and raise families because of this boy. Twelve families
will forever be scarred by this boy’s destructive past, present, and future. May God have
mercy on him because I sure as hell don’t.”
O’Neil walked off to begin filing his report and submitting the necessary paperwork.
David Jackson was treated for minor injuries but was later released into police custody.
He is currently awaiting trial in a Fulton county jail.
After fifteen years of faithful service to the Atlanta and Fulton county areas, Major Brock
Bergan accepted his promotion to head the recently formed special tactics squad he so
boldly codenamed BOULDER. He has nominated Chief Wesley O’Neil to head the
SWAT department until pending elections.
Calvin Livingston and many others at Woodward Academy were treated and released over
a fivemonth period. The twelve murdered in this incident were buried and
commemorated.
A farewell to loves lost
Calvin and his friends walked into the cemetery with a grim visage. Carson Royal had
been proclaimed dead but no body had been recovered. The clean up crew stated that the
body had been damaged beyond all repair and had been cremated with the permission of
the parents in a private funeral. Beatrice Folgers knelt beside the grave reserved for the
boy they all knew so much.
Calvin and April stood while Beatrice wept for both Carson and David. How two people
she had come to know and love had been taken away from her both in mind and spirit
confused her. She vowed to stay away from them for the rest of her life.
Calvin looked at the letters on the grave. Carson Royal spoke images instead of words.
The hours of laughter and roleplaying that had transpired during their childhood made
this a tearful reunion. Two friends were now gone from his life.
David Jackson had signed a contract with the devil; Carson Royal had signed a contract
with fate.
These two would never be forgotten. One was dead because of this turn of affairs, killed
by the other.
But was Carson Royal really dead in the eyes of those he knew?
All that loved him will rest assuredly say: No.
Soon after the massacre at Woodward, President George W. Bush declared the Friday
before Thanksgiving to be Student Appreciation Day where the entire nation thanks every
student for the hard work they accomplish as well as remember those who died as a result
of school accidents or crises. George W. Bush had already planned to visit Woodward on
the 1st anniversary of the shooting on November 19, 2005, a day that will, in this story’s
eye, live in infamy.
Calvin looked at April, “There was a love saved…”
He then looked at Carson’s grave and nodded, “And a love lost.”
Beatrice looked to the sky.
What was said concerned the most religious
And the depths to which they were willing to travel
In order to unlock the sequences needed to unravel
The revelations of the prodigious.
It once was heard
That the fallen one would hunt a bird
That within held a disturbing secret.
Energy most pure and eccentric
That equaled out the darkness of the sick.
And this spirit would sound the trumpet
Hailing down the almighty sword
That called forth the might of the Lord.
The most religious reached the depths of Hell
Only to find that their devotion did spell
An eternal prayer for forgiveness
In the center of that fiery mess
Known as the chasm of immortal peril.
There he would lie until his spirit was broken.
There he would listen to all that was spoken.
There he would pay back the most potent
For the chance to be the most devoted.
The bird flew away sad and uncertain
As his once friend roasted
In the land of those who had boasted
About the ones they had hunted.
The Lord closed the curtain.
Book II: The Key to a Novel Idea
African Investigation
This day was special, I remember it. I believe this day, the eighteenth of March became
the first day I came back into contact with the revolutionary group, the COBRAS, since
their reformation. It will be a day I won’t forget but this was only the starting point in the
unraveling of the chain of events that provided indisputable proof to the validity of the
Chaos Theory. Who would have guessed that the next war would be founded not on
principles of greed, but on those of God? That is all there is to remember…the origins of
the temporary end to civilization.
Lee Jones: As printed in the Nonfictional Account of the Atrocious War (War of
Attrition)
United Nations Headquarters, Wednesday, March 18, 2005. 11:25 AM
A special session of the UN’s security council has been called by Democratic Republic
of the Congo emissary, Gregory Piquard on account of the recent insurgency against DRC
autonomy.
“My esteemed colleagues of universal cooperation, I come today to beg for your
acknowledgement. My country has been helped in the past but the situation, as we all
know has taken a turn for the worst.”
He looked around towards the US ambassador who sat with a face of impassivity.
He swallowed his pride. He would need US intervention.
“The unrest in our great country is being caused by a new group. A group calling for a
liberation of the whole of Africa calling themselves “The Fathers of Grace” has recently
toured our country politicizing the supposed indifference of our limited government. He
looked yet again towards the US ambassador. He still had the look of impassivity.
“These men are doing missionary work for a Christian church based out of the North. The
Church is not recognized by any other Christian church and does not have an ordained
ministry and yet people are listening. They are being sold weapons and told to fight the
evils that currently hold the reigns of authority. I plead to this body today to help
persuade these men and women to stop their false crusade and approach our government
with peace and diplomacy. But be reminded that they will not bow down so easily.
Military involvement may become necessary for our country if peace does not prevail.”
The aids sitting back at the DRC’s seat were smiling. He was doing well.
“Many do not hear what we have to say due to our stature but we believe in the freedom
of democraticrepublics like the British and Americans. We as a fledgling democratic
republic beg the free worlds of the earth to pledge their loyalty to our suffering people.
The lies of these “liberators” are hurting our cause as a whole. They are attacking the
very heart of free will and free choice. If we do not stop this revolt where it stands, it may
spread like wild fire. Now I am new to world politics and do not yet fully understand the
inner workings many encounter, but I do know one thing as I stand here today: You
cannot fight fire with water. These men and women must be shown that mutiny is
unacceptable and that they must drop arms and come to the table and explain their pains,
just like I do here today. You cannot solve a problem by starting a fight, you must solve a
problem by locating the variables, equalizing the equation, and find what the real problem
is. Then solving is as easy as baking bread. Thank you all and may my words stir you to
aid democracy.”
He finished speaking and dropped his hands. The ambassador to the US stood first and
clapped along with many others while still maintaining a passive face. Britain, America,
Canada, Germany, France even joined in. They all stood and clapped. Greg stepped down
and headed back to his seat, but he checked the American seat before he did. They were
in deep discussion and were ignoring the next speaker, just as he was as he sat there and
looked for any sign that his words had conveyed the severity of the situation.
The ambassador to the UN from the US turned to his aid and asked him to make a phone
call home.
“Call and tell them to get me Major Brock Bergan…”
“Yessir.”
The aid stood up and walked away, with a hurry I might add.
He then shot a glance toward the DRC. He noticed the meek man staring back. He smiled
big and the man smiled back.
He looked back toward the front and began to listen in on the latest speaker. He dozed off
about halfway through. World Politics…hah! We all know America has the whole world
in its hands…
Inherit the Earth
12:38 PM
The speeches of the day ended and Gregory Piquard headed back to his office exhausted.
“What a day this has been…so much tension. It seems strange how it all stems from my
first day on the job. “
On the other side of the building, the American ambassador met up with his aid. He
asked his secretary: “Is Bergan on the line?”
“Yes sir. He has been eagerly awaiting your call.” The young man responded promptly.
“Thank you and shut the door. This call is private.”
He sat down at his desk and looked at the picture of his wife. He lifted the phone.
“Lemoine Jones here.”
“Hello Lieutenant.” Bergan greeted his old friend from high school.
“I expect good news.” Jones retorted quietly.
“Why? Is your day not running smoothly?” Bergan inquired.
Bergan was now a bit antsy. He had requested no contact until “it” was finished.
“The Congolese have taken their case to the world. We don’t like it when we get bad
press, especially when in regards to your assassination attempts. Please keep your
business quiet over there!”
“I assure you the “leak” will be found. It is, as we say, a matter of time. There will be
nothing to worry about my friend. BOULDER will succeed.”
“So the artifact is safe?” Jones needed to know. That object was worth an infinite amount
of money.
“It is in our hands once again. The Congolese thought they had it. It is, as said before, a
matter of time before the key is located. There is nothing to worry about. We have new
recruits on the way. I have been watching a handful of America’s finest in Iraq. Now all
we have to do is wait for the clock to strike midnight on the combat operations. Then we
may proceed without danger.
“Do not alert the Congolese to your presence. We cannot afford another international
incident. With the unpleasant things out of the way, we can move to business. I need more
information on Private Jacob Hudson…and…”
He fished for his keys.
“Just one second Major. I have to unlock my desk.” He politely requested Bergan.
“I’ll wait. I’m on satellite anyway.”
Bergan wanted to hurry. He had not turned on the encryption. It wasted energy.
Lee finally found the right key and inserted it.
“Gotcha. Let us see here.”
He filed through the names of civilians who had potential to join the PMC in a limited
sense. Hannah Jackson, Harris Calloway, Jack Farrel, Karah Gleck.
There it is! He found the file he needed.
“Brock, you still there?”
“Still am.” Bergan responded curtly.
“Robert Clark…”
“It’s a game the CIA is playing. It is part of a new type of global news making. The
‘image enhancement’ techniques many worry about today are beginning to take a vice
grip of the five sided whore house.”
“Watch what you say Bergan. The content you are implying and saying can cost more
than just your life. It would be pointless to mention Hagan’s influence on Ross.”
“Lee, since it is pointless to mention, why do you mention it?”
“Just keeping you in check. I can’t allow for the COBRAS to go out with the death of the
only person given the reigns. Ross gave you control.”
“Only because Hagan was in Sovietland. He always preferred Hagan over everyone else.”
“But Hagan was the idealist. You were more practical and pragmatic. Your leadership
capabilities were more optimistic and warm. Hagan is cold and ruthless.”
“That is what I fear here. If you could send me someone from the NSA, I would be much
appeased. Hagan is hiding cards underneath the table. How can I ask what his plans are if
I do not have any in response to his? It is hard to plan for the contingency that he has the
entire unit behind him and is only biding his time.”
“Well, Brock, the only thing that I can say to you is that you will know in, as the old
saying goes, a matter of time.”
“See you Lee.”
“Goodbye Bergan.”
They both hung up.
Bergan rested his neck as a man put away a highpowered microphone about ten feet
behind the tent. The person slipped into the brightness of the sun.
Piquard walked down the hallway with his heavy briefcase. He felt timid and scared as he
approached the US office.
He knocked twice. A man opened the door.
“US ambassador’s office. I am Dr. Bill Herman. May I help you?”
Gregory spoke up, “Gregory Piquard.” He held out his hand while holding his briefcase
with the other.
“I am the ambassador from the DRC and I would like to make contact with Mr. Jones at
an appropriate time.”
Bill welcomed him in, “Have a seat. He has set aside a time for walkins. Mr. Piquard was
it?” Bill shut the door behind them.
“Gregory Piquard.” He looked over the desk. He saw family photos and several of a black
lab. Bill took a seat and he did as well.
“You like dogs?” Piquard asked
Bill lifted the photo and looked at admiringly.
“Oh that is Mary, our lab. She is a spunky little devil. She is my only family for the time
being.” He set the photo down.
“No children?”
“Not for a few months at least. My wife is expecting. Ultrasound revealed that it was a
girl.”
“Congratulations” Piquard responded.
“Thank you. He asked me not to bother him for another ten minutes. He is on an overseas
call.”
Piquard did not ask.
“You don’t mind if I wait here?”
Bill looked his way, “Why not? He said he was expecting someone from the DRC.”
Gregory heaved a large sigh of relief, “Why didn’t you say so?”
Bill smiled, “Mr. Jones told me you were the timid type. Just pulling at your heartstrings.
It is an American gesture of gratitude. No offense taken I hope?”
Piquard shook his head, “None at all.”
The door opened behind them and out popped Mr. Jones’s head, “Send in Mr. Piquard
and turn all others away or set an appointment time. Mr. Piquard, I believe we have
business?”
Piquard stood up and carefully raised his briefcase to his chest.
“Hello Mr. Jones. Thank you for seeing me.”
Lee shot out his arm to encircle his guest’s shoulder and neck. Piquard glanced back to
see Bill pulling out what appeared to be a cigar. He put a finger to his lips. Piquard
nodded.
“Gregory, we welcome all countries big…and small.”
Dr. Herman sat back in his chair and relaxed. No appointments had been made for the rest
of the day. He couldn’t turn down a rare occurrence such as this. Not to mention the debt
he was owed as draft writer for the American council. His bachelors and masters degrees
in Journalism and a doctorate in English really drive a hard bargain for employers. His
competence level was nowhere near the tier requested for this job though. To be frank, he
was above this kind of work. He planned to write the great American novel. The purpose
of this man, unbeknownst to him at this time, would be to chronicle as accurately as
possible the events that would spiral out of control some years later. Bill Herman is your
very narrator.
On the inside of the office, Piquard shook hands with Mr. Jones and the social greetings
were made.
“Have a seat Mr. Piquard. Smoke?”
He held out a cigar, “It’s Cuban.”
Piquard looked dead ahead, “How?”
Lee lifted it to his mouth and stuck it in his teeth, “A present from the Cuban ambassador
for my birthday. My possession of it is completely legal seeing as how this is an
international territory. No money involved…at all. So what can we, the good ol’ US of A,
do for a fledgling democracy such as the DRC?” Piquard noted how the secretary’s cigar
was very similar.
Piquard lifted the briefcase and set it on the table.
“My government is willing to make a deal. We understand that some of America’s assets
are hidden deep within our jungles and are willing to hand them over but at a price. I hold
here the object known as the “key”. It opens a monstrous cavern built by our friends the
Soviets within which holds your stolen documents. We recently reacquired this “key” and
made some additions and modifications. If the United States is interested in aiding our
reconstruction, we are willing to promise benefits listed in the contract I carry with me.”
“Go on.” Lee pushed his guest to open up the negotiations. The US would do anything to
get its hands on a secret held so dear, a secret stolen by two treacherous NSA code
breakers.
“Would you like to pledge your support?” Piquard pressed one more time for a pledge of
allegiance. People seem to forget something they say only once. Through forced rehearsal,
mankind remembers many things with greater integrity.
Lee kept the suspense before giving his honest answer.
“Absolutely. If you would permit me to look at the key, I will gladly submit the contract to
the one with the power to make such decisions. The backyards of the world have told me
many techniques and endowed me with certain wisdom. The “key” was, to me, just an
urban legend. I would like to have assurance, even if it is just the tip of a titanic iceberg.”
Piquard opened the briefcase carefully and safely. He then pulled out the contract and laid
it on the desk.
“There is a photo copy of “it” on the back page. Make sure your higher ups see it.”
“I will. Now the assurance, please.”
“Now Lieutenant, patience is a virtue.”
“Who sent you exactly, if you can tell me?”
“I believe you just talked to him recently. Here is what you ask for.”
He pulled out an old punch card for ancient computers and gently slid it across the table.
It was wrapped in a plastic protector. The distinct lettering of the official Soviet Republic
brought a feeling of validity. Lee checked it over one more time. Lee had been told by
various sources that the key would be used for a worthless computer that could open the
gates to Valhalla, the home of the king of fighters.
It seems to be for an antique computer…a punch card! Yes, these were popular in the 70s
and early 80s. So it is true…the legendary home for the perfect warrior!
Piquard looked on with a beaming smile. The American enjoyed the artifact. Too bad his
kind would never see the tomb of Odin, the man who fought for African independence
and allied with the Soviet forces deep in the jungle. The man described as the descendant
of the great warriors of Norse mythology. The son of men they were called. They had
fought valiantly for social freedom, but were ultimately oppressed by bigger armies.
Armies directed by such men as Napoleon and Hitler, and Stalin. Karl Marx, George
Orwell, John Locke, Adam Smith, Isaac Newton. These names are just but a few of the
many who pledged their support either physically or emotionally through their works.
Only few spoke of them and even fewer knew their name. (PSThis is the pure fictional
part.) The treasure trove of information that could make a man a god for temporary eon
valued itself as priceless. But it was protected by an old nemesis. Lee Jones had once
been a COBRA and his enemies held the key to salvation. Lee now knew why Bergan had
made the call. With Eddie gone, authority lay in Bergan’s lap by default since the
defection in 1989 by that despot Elson.
Piquard felt even more ecstasy. He was among them at last! His body now sat among the
greatest minds of their time. He had the artifact in his hands and now he was going to
scam the USA out of money to take it back to his homeland. He would rebuild his great
country and maybe even unite Africa. All he needed now was to return to his master: the
Pride.
Mr. Jones handed it back slowly, “A very unique find indeed. I pray it makes it home in
one piece.”
Piquard slid it back into his briefcase and closed the top. “I hope it does too, Lieutenant.
It would not be a good sign if it disappeared from my hands. I am the only mortal who
knows its secret. Don’t do anything the Soviets wouldn’t. I hope our conversation makes it
back to the proper authorities? I wouldn’t want to waste this opportunity. Oh, and your
assistant is borrowing your cigars. Good day Mr. Ambassador.”
Piquard stood up and hunched his back slightly.
“You play a coy game Mr. Piquard? But can you keep it up?”
Piquard nodded with a smile, “I’ve done this work for decades. It is all I know. Again,
good day.” Lee made a mental note to ask Bergan about this Piquard but decided against
it.
“Oh, Mr. Piquard?”
“Yes?”
“Will you personally be storing that key?” Lee had a suspicion about what was soon to
come.
“No, I will be handing it off to someone. I believe you have met him once in opportunity.
Good day sir.”
“Mutual friends are always a strong connection.” Lee pushed a bit more.
“He is not your friend anymore. Good day ambassador and I hope you sincerely don’t
consider yourself a feline. Curiosity has a habit of doing away with such types.”
“Good day Mr. Piquard.”
Piquard opened the door and slowly clutched the briefcase to his chest. He trotted out
with a nod and a goodbye.
Bill looked on in amazement with the cigar in his mouth.
Lee walked into the door frame, “Now what did I say about smoking those indoors? I
won’t lose my ability to get free Cubans with you blowing my cover. Now get your ass in
here. We have a problem. I need to speak with Rumsfeld.”
Presidential unrest
White House, 1700 Pennsylvania Avenue; 1:22 PM
Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld finished briefing the President on the new CIA
chief.
“His name is Jerrold Elson and he hails from the Congo, originally. Now he understands
the black market as well as other illegal industries. He may have experience, but all men
have experience. Elson has balls. He has the balls to do what is necessary to keep his
second home safe from sick and twisted cutthroats like bin Laden and keeping them out
of our affairs. Hell, the man once met our legendary adversary.”
President George W. Bush continued perusing the documents laid before him. This would
be a difficult decision.
Jerrold ElsonAge 65
Birthplace: Moscow, Russia
Other locations of residence: Kinshasa, DRC; Alexandria, VA, USA
Family: No known or live family. Mother and Father abandoned at birth. Adopted by
Congolese emissaries. He was raised in Kinshasa as son of a diplomat to the USSR.
Political alliances: Allied with Mobutu as a young adult and later became an emissary to
the USSR.
1989 He caused a small problem in Kinshasa. Details unknown.
1992Upon the fall of the Soviet regime visited the United States and began residence.
1993 He began his work for the CIA and FBI to help classify African problems.
1994Became a field agent in the Mobutu govt.
1995Began to note the political instability in Zaire
1996Fled back to US after Mobutu was overthrown. Brought with him a record of all
bank records regarding our interests and saved them under personal danger. CIA then
closed the connections and eliminated records, saving only the record Elson retrieved.
1999Became American citizen but ended operative career for a desk job training young
recruits.
2000Robbery on the National Archives and Elson home reveals stolen data tapes
regarding our interests in the former Zaire republic.
Post 9/11/2001Is sent into Afghanistan to help discern whether Africa had business with
the AlQaeda regime. Found barely any traces of the militant group.
2001He disappears for two years. Rumors point to a private quarrel with a PMC.
2004Found barely alive in Afghanistan (Already briefed.)
2004 He is given higher authority within CIA hierarchy.
2005He is granted highest authority within the CIA hierarchy. Is listed as Third in
Command.
“I’ll talk to him. Set up a meeting with him for Thursday. Has Jones called yet?”
Rumsfeld looked at him, ”Would I know sir?” Rumsfeld found it ridiculous to tell the
President about everything.
Bush lowered his paper, “Sorry Donald. Just overworked again. This whole DRC problem
reeks of backdoor shenanigans. I do not want any black budget work related to this
Donald. Congress is already on my tail and an African involvement only makes it worse
for us. I thought that once a union of states falls and fails to recover it is impossible to
affect others in the future.”
“Sir, may I ask what you are getting at?”
“It seems that Kruschev calls from his grave.”
“I understand. You could put it that way but what is important are the countless renegade
soldiers or mercenaries traveling the country. And since their new government continues
to push for a united Africa, we must keep vigilant. We cannot allow another African
conflict to slip through our fingers. We had enough trouble with Darfur. And these
militants have the ability to prove just as elusive as our friends in Afghanistan.”
“I understand.” President Bush interrupted, “You just keep an eye on it and send me the
briefs.”
“You seem more tired than is usual.”
Bush looked at his friend, “Yeah, you know how this sort of thing works out. The public
grows interested for a period of time and then they forget. But these reporters and
journalists aren’t making things easy at all. They act like Clinton did nothing wrong
during his administration. I guess I am just overly concerned; it is my job.”
Rumsfeld stood up, ready to leave, “I’ve apparently answered your questions, so I am
going to head home. You know the number if something comes up? And we need to brief
all of the Joint Chiefs on the Congan assassination incident to keep our stories straight.”
Bush nodded, “And you know my number if anything crops up. I’m just going to check
my messages and maybe walk the dog. That’ll clear my head.”
“Let’s hope it does.”
Rumsfeld walked out and President Bush looked at his desk.
I forgot she had walked in here. Who sent me a message?
He looked at the list.
Scott McClellanPress Statement for the War
CheneyYou know what.
Lee JonesArtifact
Major BerganBOULDER recruiting
He picked up the phone and asked to be connected to Lee Jones. The dial tone began.
“Hello? Lee Jones’s office.”
“Yes, this is President Bush calling to speak with Ambassador Jones. I believe he
attempted to reach me but I was unable to attend to his call.”
The assistant, Bill, was excited, “Good to hear your voice again sir. I’ll put you through
immediately.”
“Thank you.”
The phone line went quiet and then the phone picked up once again.
Lee quietly acknowledged his caller, “Sir?”
Bush knew his call would have to be brief. He had to walk the dog.
“Did the deal go through?”
Lee was optimistic, “They are trying to pull our leg. I talked to Bergan and everything
seems just fine. It appears the incident five months ago was not related at all. That was
Viper’s last stand. It seems that Elson’s task force was brutally defeated by the area’s
mercenaries. Viper is out but Cobra still stands.”
Bush was happy for once in twelve hours, “So I hope Major Bergan is reorganizing it into
a more media friendly task force? I would hate to have revived the Cobras only to have
them begin anew as a mercenary unit. If he calls you asking for international advice, keep
him on a tight leash.”
“Yes sir, he is doing exactly what you requested. The artifact itself is a treasure. I faxed
what was needed to your home in Crawford. They should be mailing it your way right
about now.” Bush never did like back channel communication but if it kept Scott out of
the loop, everything would turn out fine.
“Was it genuine?” The President asked with a cool face.
Lee was still excited from earlier, “I am 100% sure of it.”
“We can finally retrieve the documents Kennedy was willing to go to war over. Thanks
again for all you’ve done, and we will talk more when we get a chance. I am sure Scott
sent you the necessary files?”
“Too bad Khrushchev played a cool hand during the crisis. And as always, goodbye Mr.
President.”
“Goodbye.” The dead tone of an ended conversation covered the room, a vacant room.
He set the phone into its cradle. Quiet once again settled over the room. He savored it for
he knew it would never last.
The phone began to ring.
“Knew it would never last.”
He reached over and lifted the White Phone.
“Yes Kathy?’ It was one of the telephone operators.
“Major Brock Bergan on the line.”
“Send him through.”
A click was heard and then a crackled sound spread throughout the earpiece.
“Mr. President? Bergan here. Just wanted to check on the recruiting policies?”
“I gave it a yellow light. Be careful on who you choose. Just be wary. As for your
recruiting list, I doublechecked it and all are upstanding citizens. One could be
considered too young for the job. Age 17 is pushing the limit Bergan.”
“It is the potential that matters. I am recruiting for the future Mr. President. He is but a
speck of dust when compared to my current plans.”
“Just making sure we aren’t creating child soldiers. You may be listed as a private
organization but you still have to answer to the Congress and the IRS.”
“But if Congress yanked my chain, it would lead to you somewhere. The conservative
party would not like to have another Nixon.”
“I am no Nixon and you know that. Congress may have their powers but they forget mine
is to execute the law of America. Bergan, I did not give you power to create mischief in
that jungle. We only want reconnaissance of the artifact’s resting place. Anything outside
of that order is a direct challenge to my authority as your commander and will be taken as
an instance of the greatest insubordination. I do not have time to clean up another
mistake.”
“So you call Iraq a mistake?” Bergan stood his ground much to the dismay of the
President.
“No, you misunderstand me. My mistake was trusting the CIA’s evidence without having
it thoroughly checked. Iraq, as you know Major, is the resting place of the remaining sum
of money stolen by that dictator. Stolen from our bank accounts using various tactics and
other nonsense. Not to mention his region’s growing desire to harbor terrorists and build
weapons of great power. Bergan, screw this one up and we’ll both be six feet under.”
“I know but while you will be below Mount Washington, I will be in that bunker
reclaiming the last remnants of our greatest plans. You empathize with me in knowing
that these plans are vital to the War on Terror. I will retrieve them for you Mr. President at
no cost. What I want is money for time spent here to pay my three paramilitary.”
“And you will get it. But for now, refrain from doing your job at its best. We all know
what happens when mercenaries do their best?”
“A mercenary is at his best when taming the tides of war.” Bergan said icily.
“Good day. ” The phone once again went dead. Bergan is saving power. Must be on
another hunt this evening. His tone better not be so obstinate or I may have to replace
him. I only hope that Elson’s plan works. Painting Bergan as a kidnapper is just about as
dark as government planning can get. But as long as his little war over there becomes
public and he is deemed responsible by the press, we should have justification to delete
the COBRAS from existence.
“Kathy, hold my calls. I am going to take Barney for a short walk and cool off.”
“Yes sir.”
President Bush walked out the door and to his quarters to change.
Introducing Bergan
Brock Bergan set down the satellite phone slowly and then powered it down.
No more calls until tomorrow.
He then pointed the solar panel toward the dying sun through the flap he had cut out for
just this purpose. It was around 6 or 7, according to the watch on his arm.
He looked around his tent and brought his hands to his head. He wasn’t a violent man at
heart, but when it came to protecting precious human lives, he could be extremely
volatile. He commanded his men and women with resolve and determination. There was
no doubting his skills.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead. The air was still warm and humid from the day. This
rainforest was indeed far from civilization. He and his unconventional squad were waiting
for an opening to arise in the valley below. They stared at its base from trees using
powerful binoculars designed for extreme surveillance. For the rookies, it was a first
mission but or Hagan, it was waste of talent.
Jungles of the DRC; March 18, 2005; 7:48 PM
Imprisoned in a wilderness described their daily paradox. How could one be forced to
stay so quiet in the middle of a forest? No one should be living for miles and yet this
forest played host to a country deemed unstable.
The fact that one mile away he could sit down to a local, but not perfect, breakfast made
him focus all the more intensely, his every fiber begging God for guidance. He prays, he
sleeps, he fights; but he does not question his role, only his instincts.
“Only a day until we find the key to freedom. The artifact the Soviets have kept hidden for
so long and it is finally in the hands of the Patrons of Eden. He was a father of religious
war and he needed to make sure he never stepped over the line too much when killing.
Coldblooded murder was a merciless and pitiful way to disparage a soldier. No matter
the cause of a country, Bergan had to respect its right to exist and test its integrity. If the
taarget lived, so be it. If it died, it received what it so deserved.
He looked to his map of the surrounding area to plot the movements of the day. He picked
up his smaller radio, which was used for local group tracking.
“Eagle1, this is Plymouth. Do you copy.” Whispers kept everything safely quiet. Slow
and quite quiet language usually allowed for closer surveillance.
“Eagle1 here. I copy, Plymouth. Am north by northwest of the cave. The water is still
rushing from the rain yesterday. Temperature at 18 degrees Centigrade. Saw no one,
chatted with no one. Eagle1 out.”
Bergan lowered the radio and plotted out the man’s reported movements.
“I hope you stay safe Charlie.”
John Charles Hagan was the Eagle commander and a highly specialized soldier who had
now joined the mercenary corps here at Bergan’s new intelligence group as an old friend.
It was completely private and had contracts at the state and federal levels. This group was
of the highest caliber. Bergan left the control of the less talented units to other
commanders. He had two men and one woman out there gathering information. Their
names were Charles Hagan, Vanessa Pritchard, and Jack Hudson, three of the best special
ops the military had to offer. Both were in the Eagle corps and this assignment would
earn them their standing in the group. Charles was just there to insure success.
“Eagle2 here, does Plymouth copy? Hello?”
Bergan slipped out of his mind and back into his job.
“Loud and clear. What’s the situation?”
It was Vanessa. Her jetblack hair and strong thighs made her a very attractive woman.
Unfortunately both Bergan and her were tied in marriage. She was engaged to Hagan after
all. Unbeknownst to Bergan, Charles and Vanessa had been engaged since the Gulf of
Tonkin resolution.
“Eagle2 reporting withdrawal of main cavalry to the east. They have left a small guard to
maintain the facility until the next shift. I would advise preparation of escape route.
Awaiting further orders.”
Now was the time to make his move. Bergan had been planning this for a long time. His
contacts had been met, his money paid, and his loyalties clouded in smoke to allow him
easier movement here in the DRC.
“Keep surveillance but begin to pack your various belongings. They are going to get the
American consulate. They must have already made the deal, which limits the amount of
time we have to remove the object and go. When Charles gives the signal, go! Plymouth
out.” He knew why the guards were gone. He had pulled them himself. This was a
training operation for Vanessa and Jack. He had already cleared the base some two days
earlier and put in his own corps.
Bergan sat back in his chair and heard the tiny squeaking from overuse.
“I need to fix that.” He picked up the folder of prospective trainees and began sifting
through the various names. He got to Robert Clark again. This kid always did confuse
him. He had heard about him from a contact he had in the school system. What made it
even stranger was his relationship to the College Park sniper. It always paid off to have
access to student records in order to wade through the sea of students. He had to find
some way of weeding out potentially weak officers. But he still could not get the thought
of the existing relationship with David. Bergan would be busting him out to bring over
here as a deal with the President yet he had a feeling someone else had set this up. A
sense of deception remains to this day something man has lived without but Bergan was
different. He could sense a trap but was too stupid to fear it. He moved head on into a
collision many children will study in textbooks.
The kid was barely 6 foot with somewhat long brown hair that was kept brushed to the
side. Robert had a pure impurity of the mind and spirit that could become a blessing for
BOULDER if they could enlist his services. His editorial services could be used for PR.
Bergan sighed in agreement. He had been putting this off for too long. He was dying for a
kid like this and this boy’s innate ability for Close Quarters Combat was just the icing to
the already delicious cake. He hated to start the mousetrap but he signed his signature
with a smile. He was now a rat and no mousetrap could catch him. Now all he needed was
the boy’s John Hancock and BOULDER would have one more recruit to add to its already
burgeoning list. He moved on through the list: Harold Brick, Roger Parks, Kristin
Kilkurk, Layla Sorensen. He looked through Layla’s again. 5’10”, dark brown hair, blue
eyes, tanned skin. Layla was the star cross country of her Colorado high school and had
already signed up with Bergan’s outfit thanks to his relationship with her mother.
Mrs. Jacquelyn Sorensen was Brock’s sister by blood and Layla was his beautiful,
intelligent niece who loved to get into trouble. She had many friends but usually kept to a
small group to satisfy her social needs and every boy she came across bored her to death.
She would be joining as soon as she hit her eighteenth birthday.
Obey the Traffic Signals
Charles Hagan was an atypical soldier. Born to a Canadian congressman, Charles was
raised from birth to accomplish feats of great magnitude. After the failed attempt at a
coup by his father, Charles was left an orphan by the Canadian military tribunals. His
mother and father were both arrested and charged with conspiracy and mutiny. All of this
won’t be found in the papers for it was all kept quiet by the American and Canadian
governments. Their ideas would be the basis for his eventual rise to power. He was put up
in an orphanage in Quebec only to be adopted by Americans with dual citizenship. Thus
he went from being the son of a powerful Canadian to a middle class American citizen.
He joined the military at 18 just as Vietnam was wrapping up. Watergate had just been
exposed and Gas prices were beginning to climb to begin the Oil Crises.
He lined up his crosshairs for what seemed like the billionth time and pulled the trigger.
PFTT! The dart found its target with accuracy. The sleeping guard was now out of the
way.
He loaded another dart into his rifle only to shoulder it and slide his USP Compact from
its holster. He carefully surveyed the area as he gently assumed a kneeling position. The
quiet of night was upon them and he knew these men and women were packing heavily.
He had just today seen one of their snipers move carefully. He had noticed the thermal
scope easily, its bulky nature an obvious sign of danger. He sighed though in a
melancholic temperament. It was all just a game of some sorts to train the rookies. When
he was trained at Boot Camp, all he ever traveled to was the forest a mile away. These
rookies were spoiled with their international incursions. He was even somewhat jealous.
My gut is not telling me anything. It may be because I am not focused enough.
He always trusted his instincts and never used logic unless absolutely necessary. Many
people still think that combat requires intellect. The majority does not deserve to know
that intellect can become instinct.
He tapped the microphone on his head to make sure it was in place. He slowly lowered
his hand to the receiver on his belt and flipped the power on.
“This is Eagle1. Am proceeding towards the underground base. Eagle2 and 3, assume
your respective positions.”
“Roger Eagle1” Came the response of his comrades.
He began to stalk toward the soldier he had taken down, the leaves and ivy underneath
crackling barely underneath his heavy frame.
Careful.
He lifted his feet with even less energy than before. He was now in the zone of thought all
soldiers need to be in when achieving an objective.
Almost there…
He looked to his left and right to confirm his safety.
Nothing to the left, wait…movement to the right.
He ducked slowly, back to his kneeling stance. There was movement to his right and he
knew it. 2 years in the dark forest of Vietnam had given him this ability. He raised his
weapon to the ready stance.
Do not fire unless fired upon
He remembered the most basic rule of combat. Conserving ammo in the heat of war
would be a helpful technique to learn. No true soldier wastes ammo unnecessarily, well
unless they are running from inevitable capture. Can’t be fueling the enemy’s war
machine now can we?
He checked his sides, looking for an escape route should he end up pinned down.
The movement seemed to be coming ever so closer and it wasn’t until he recognized the
‘traffic signal’ of the night: one quiet green light coming from the headset of his comrade.
“Eagle2, could you at least identify yourself next time, either by headset or raising your
voice. I about incapacitated you. Now get over here!”
Hudson walked out into the moonlight, his bulky frame hiding the M60 on his back.
“Thought I’d take a midnight stroll. Didn’t mean to scare ya’ like that.”
“Well your skills have definitely improved if you were able to put me on guard. The moral
of this story: don’t you ever do that again.” Hagan sighed and holstered his weapon.
I’ll never forget that horrible place…
He started walking as the sounds of those terrible nights flooded his mind. The screaming
and heavy panting of men running for their lives would make even the worst of prisoners
cringe in fear. The dead silence before the kill and the tension one experienced
beforehand.
Hagan reached into his pocket and pulled out some Diazepam to calm the nerves. He
swallowed them both whole.
“You know those things are addicting sir?” Hudson knew how those things delayed
response times. Diazepam was directly responsible for his unit’s capture and the six
months of captivity it brought just because his leader couldn’t react quickly enough.
“Been takin’ these since the Tet’ Offensive. Never could sleep again after that.”
“And taking tranquilizers helps ease the anguish of insomnia?” Hudson asked.
“Where does Brock find you guys? We’ve got an intellectual here along with a female
tactician. How in God’s name did you two make it past boot camp?” He knew both the
answers but refused to acknowledge them. Vanessa was his fiancée for Christ’s sake.
Hudson took offense, “Now I may be somewhat of an intellectual, but I am not a
philosopher. When the Major requests a job of me, I ask how long should it take? I do not
question authority unless they are themselves breaking the rules. Only then do I dare to
question authority.”
Hagan listened intently to this boy’s rant. He had hoped for an outburst but the boy kept
calm, cool, and precise during his rebuttal.
“Those who question authority know not how to overthrow it. Those who overthrow shoot
first and ask questions later.”
“Always faithful sir.”
“What?” Hagan was now confused. He never liked intellectuals to begin with. They
always had an air of superiority.
Hudson tried to explain, “Semper Fi sir. I was just telling you that I am ready.”
“Stay away from the Latin kid for it will do you no good. Use the common, modern
language. And furthermore, I know what Semper Fi means; I was in the Army. We don’t
mingle with the Marine Corps here soldier. We have a language, English. Please do me
the pleasure of speaking it.”
Hudson just shut his mouth, “Sorry sir. “
“I’m ready, are you Hudson.”
“I’m ready to go.”
“Ok, follow me.”
He looked to his left and right before walking up towards the unconscious guard.
“Is he breathing?”
They had experienced problems with the tranquilizer rounds. They seemed to be too
powerful and would sometimes put them into a deep coma.
Hagan bent down and checked the jugular on the neck.
BOOM. Boom. BOOM. Boom
He pulled his hand back and looked toward Hudson.
“He’ll be ok. Help me move him.”
Hudson slid the M60 onto his back. “Okay. Where will we put him?”
Hagan looked around into the obscure forest they stood in. It was dark and damp, just as
always. “We’ll have to put him near his patrol so as to divert suspicion of foul play.
Remove the dart will you?’ Hagan began clearing the area ahead past the two trees five
feet away.
Hudson found the dart in the victim’s neck and slowly pulled it out. He put it into his
pouch. He then lifted the body and dragged it behind the tree.
He grunted as he lugged the limp guard. His weight was most definitely all muscle.
Hagan kneeled to pick up the weapon as he made his way back to where Hudson was.
He analyzed the gun to search for a logo or serial code. He pulled out his penlight. It was
an MP5 with a strange logo on it: It was a Z and an L tattooed onto the area below the
shell eject hatch.
(Sorry that is so big. I tried to make it smaller but to no avail. Thanks and congratulations
to Landon Armstrong for creating this fine logo as well as the logo soon to be seen.)
Hagan waited for the rookie to finish poking the “dead” man before asking him. Maybe
he was of some use. Hagan recognized it immediately. It was a logo from a unit he had
served in long ago. I’ve missed you my reptilian calling card.
Hudson dropped his guest and slowly walked towards Hagan who at the moment seemed
very intent on staring blindly at what appeared to be an MP5. He had to act ignorant and
found it easier than spelling the word pie.
“Excuse me sir? How interesting can an MP5 be?”
“Have you ever seen this before?”
Hudson responded in kind, “Not that exact gun but I have seen a model similar.”
Hagan angrily piped up, though keeping it to a whisper, “The logo Hudson…the logo.”
Hagan moved the penlight to the ejection port and Hudson leaned in.
“Oh I remember seeing that in the papers. There is a mercenary group that wants to unite
Africa. They call themselves the Nation of Zanzibar.”
“Nation of what?”
“Zanzibar, sir.” Hudson wondered why Hagan had not recognized it.”
“I remember them. It’s been a while since the islands of revolution have sung in a manner
similar to the sirens. So you know about the Fathers of Grace?”
“They are a separatist group out of the DRC that has been exiled to the surrounding
countries of Rwanda, Uganda, and Angola. They currently have links to many terror
organizations including the almost defunct alQaeda. We are standing in a den of the most
worthless of communists.”
“Thank you. Can you give me a synonym for Separatist?” Hagan shook his head in
disgust. He hated textbook answers. Textbooks always give objective, thirdperson
information. How is mankind, defined by firstperson, supposed to understand the
omniscience of third person objectivity?
Hudson thought for a moment, “Uh…Separatist. A synonym would be nationalist? I
believe that would be a synonym.”
Hagan smiled meekly, “No, Separatist has only one synonym: mercenary.”
“Not so. The Puritans were labeled as Separatists from the Church of England.” Hudson
corrected Hagan again. Big mistake…
“What year is it soldier?” Hagan asked, his radio in his hand.
“2005.”
“The Puritans sailed when?” Hagan asked another question. Hopefully this verbal lashing
would shut the textbook up.
“1620.”
“The year is 2005. Words change with the times. 1620 is no longer present day but a part
of the past to be researched and studied by men and women devoted to repeating history.
Those who delve in the past forget their own future and the opposite remains equal for the
career people. I live in the present. The past is my foundation and I do not live in it. The
future is where I am going, not where I am. Therefore, let me use the words in a modern,
subjective context. I have no time to waste on third party observations.”
He switched radio on. “Vanessa, we are near the entrance. State your position.”
A quiet response came from up in the trees above.
“You all should look me up sometime.”
The sound of branches being slowly bent spread through the area.
Hagan and Hudson sat down as she descended from the Eagle’s perch.
“That’s the problem with women today,” Hagan quietly remarked, “They command so
much goddamn respect.”
“I heard that.” Vanessa verbalized.
Hagan pulled out a cigarette, “And oh boy do they deserve it.”
“Uh, won’t cigarettes paint our position?” Hudson was getting nervous.
Hagan felt the nicotine hit his blood stream as the first wave of smoke entered his lungs.
His entire body tensed for a moment before adjusting to the boost. This was his nirvana.
“Nah…there is a guard about three hundred yards away and might I add, looking in the
opposite direction. Plus, Barbie here has already destroyed what quiet we already had.
There’s not a single guard within twenty feet of our current location.” He brought the
burning paper to his lips and inhaled slowly.
Vanessa dropped down with a quiet pounce, “I’d like to see you do that.”
Hagan pulled the cigarette away from his mouth again, “The big cat just announced itself
and it seems to already be starving for attention. Hudson, would you like to be her first
victim? She’ll probably just eat your heart.”
“Vanessa, he doesn’t mean anything by that. He is just annoyed that he has to put up with
two supposed rooks.”
Hagan interjected, “Rookies. War is not a game of chess. Actually, it is more like a
continuous period of fight or flight. There are no kings and queens on the battlefield, only
pawns.”
Hudson looked down at the grisly Hagan, the cigarette highlighting the orange beard
growing in. He then looked across from him to his comrade, her face hidden behind the
glow of the cigarette and the facepaint adorning her features.
Hagan stood up and stubbed out the cigarette with his gloved finger. He put the butt in his
pouch along with his other trash. He shouldered the MP5.
“Follow me and stay close but maintain formation.” Hagan called quietly. “Moving to
hand signals only.”
Brock Bergan turned out his lantern for the night and threw his jacket on.
Now all I have to do is contact O’Neill and see if he needs a job. It would be nice to have
the group back together. If only I could convince Elson to take the helm.
He picked up his P99 and holstered it in his shoulder strap. The Walther was more of an
acquired taste than a necessitation. He was always fond of the Germanic arms maker and
loved using a weapon that 007 used. He picked up the silencer just in case it was
necessary. Wouldn’t want to disturb the locals.
Now to take care of business.
Old and new: a theme emerges
<music from when Snake first infiltrates Groznyj Grad>
The group of three reached a clearing in the populated forest. Powerful bright lights stood
tall surrounding an enclosed compound three hundred feet below their location. There
were three gradients on one side and four on the other that were composed of twenty yard
flat lands sitting next to a ten foot wall. The idea was to burrow the base into the ground
to decrease targeting capabilities and take advantage of the new electric power plants
being designed in the 70s. It never took off due to European and American expansion in
Zaire and the surrounding countries of Africa. The area ended up incomplete with many
trees still yet to be cleared.
Hagan brought out his binoculars and looked around. He saw the newly cut trees lying on
a rail car waiting to be delivered to the city for profit. A waterfall could be heard in the
distance. An unfinished bridge sat on the other side, a remnant of an ancient Soviet
expansion. This base had once been known as Zanzibar due to its geography. A river once
ran where the crater sat but the Russians clogged and diverted it while they dug this
enormous trench. The bridge would have been a source of supplies and transportation.
They looked on as a multitude of masons, engineers, and laborers clocked out after a long
and arduous day of completing the unfinished bridge. They headed to the station that lay
nearby to return to their homes via express transit.
Hagan slowly whispered, “Welcome to Zanzibar.”
Hudson and the others moved swiftly toward the edge of the first gradient.
Hagan put his hand up and moved it forward. They all moved to the edge of the first
gradient when a distinct clapping erupted throughout the allquiet area.
“I didn’t know we were having company. If I had known about dinner guests, I would
have prepared entertainment. Too bad. I’m already entertained enough by the apparent
deceit of the Western powers. Was our deal too intriguing? Did it arouse enough
suspicion and interest as to warrant a visit from a mercenary group?”
A tall dark man walked up behind them, hands in the air. Three squadrons came with him
along with four more below their current position, on the second gradient.
Hudson turned slowly so he could see below them and behind them.
“Surrounded!”
The dark man spoke, “Now come Mr. Hudson. Surrounded is a negative word. I am only
here to help. I must introduce myself so as not to be rude. I am General Kadeer and am
cooperating with the American revolutionaries. I get a halfstake in the company and
control over this mighty fine army. Won’t you join us, Jacob?”
Hudson froze at the sound of his name and ignored the rest of the sentence. “Where did
you learn that name?”
Hagan slowly stood up, resuming his calm stance.
“Where else but from the mouth of a friend.”
Hagan spun around with his USP in hand. Hudson reached for his M60 as Vanessa slowly
moved for her crossbow.
“Can you shoot me, rookie? I don’t believe so, at least from where I stand on the issue. I
thought lighting the cigarette would have aroused enough suspicion.”
Vanessa clenched her teeth, “So that’s your sign? A lit cigarette?” Playing along was all
too easy for Vanessa. Besides, roleplaying in a relationship sometimes revived long lost
passions.
Hagan steadied his arms, “No need for hostilities Vanessa. We wouldn’t want to incur any
unnecessary injuries? Besides, this is a training operation. We took over this facility a
while back and are using it to test new trainees. We need a situation where danger and
hazard are normal situations. We also needed to determine reactions to mutiny.”
A crunching could be heard as a new character walked onto the scene.
“Put the gun down now Charles. They have nowhere to run. You’ve explained yourself.
Now I must explain my involvement.”
Hudson and Vanessa turned to see their own commander, Brock Bergan standing there.
“Vanessa, Jack, welcome to Zanzibar.”
Hudson just stood there. He had no experience with this kind of situation. Bergan and
Hagan were insisting this was only a training operation and yet he still felt something was
amiss. He had only just been briefed on taking out those who committed mutiny, but
those protocols assumed there were only two combatants. He most assuredly did not have
the experience to survive against several squadrons.
Vanessa hissed, “Bergan, you better have a damned good explanation! You brought us out
here for disloyalty?!”
Bergan hissed back, “Watch your language Vanessa. Wouldn’t want to have to cut your
tongue out? You see that down there? That is our new home. Hagan was right about the
training part. But a failure to mention fully our intentions is an insult. We are forging our
own orders here Hudson. Would you like the responsibility and opportunity to command
with us an immense army?”
He was staring at the facility down in the hole.
Hagan stood up for Bergan, “Vanessa, BOULDER is rapidly undergoing some
“expansion” if you will call it that and to expand we must make new friends. Friends that
have something we desire. If you want, you can join me in pledging my allegiance to the
stars and stripes. But my loyalty doesn’t require me to keep totally faithful as long as I
return to her what was given to me under an unconditional agreement: freedom. Freedom
that this new facility will give to us and the people of this third rock.”
Hudson raised his arms and unclipped the M60, letting it fall to the ground.
“And we are hazardous enough to require several squadrons?” Hudson asked, staring at
the countless dark skinned militants.
“Our men were bored and needed the excitement that comes from the hunt. And Hagan
here played the Judas. We needed to show you that not only are we powerful and cunning,
but we like to overdo when we work thus canceling out the possibility of failure. No one
can fail when in excess of power.”
“Careful with your wording there. Judas betrayed an ideology for money and I am most
certainly not in this for the green. I don’t get paid enough to have greed in my heart. I
signed on for the glory, and the ability to change the world for the better, although
fighting sometimes doesn’t make anything better.” Hagan pronounced his intrinsic
motivation.
“Well spoken Judas.”
Hagan shot Bergan a look.
“Charles sounds better.” Bergan made up for taking the joke too far. He needed Hagan’s
skills.
Bergan moved his vision back to the two rookies, “So what’ll it be? Will my potential
stars light up or burn out? The choice is yours but what I can tell you happens to be that
this is not what it appears to be, no. As we all learn in the military, appearances can be
deceiving. I remember the old phrase ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover; only by its
content.’ The content of this unfolding story should prove quite the read on the day it is
printed in the history books. Now what will it be? Eternal fame or eternal shame?”
Hudson turned to face his commanding officer. He looked Bergan straight in the eyes,
“Until I know what you are up to, I’ll take shame…”
“I’ll reveal myself as well. I am with Hagan, Jacob. You are our newest recruit. Welcome
to the Fathers of Grace.”
“Or as some would call it, the Patrons of Eden.” Hagan put his arm around Vanessa’s
neck.”
“Fuck you two. And you as well Bergan.” Hudson spat.
“Hagan.” Bergan said. Hagan walked up behind Hudson and said over his shoulder.
“You should have just taken the mystery box.”
He elbowed Hudson right on the nape of the neck. Hudson fell slowly to his knees as the
pain built up to an enormous, blinding climax.
He cried out as Hagan delivered the second blow directly to his jaw. He hit the ground as
the fire in his mouth lit up. Hagan said something but Hudson could barely interpret it as
the pain blocked out his hearing. “Damn you! You two were my comrades!”
Hagan kneeled even closer, making sure to keep Bergan from hearing. “Honor thy father
and mother.”
“What?” Hudson bolted wide awake just as Charles Hagan’s hand reached for his pistol.’
“Bedtime Hudson.” The silenced tranquilizer brought dreams to Jacob Hudson. He slowly
slipped into darkness as in it could he find refuge from the searing flame racking his
body.
“Vanessa?” Bergan gave his female soldier a look.
She responded, “I’ll listen to you Bergan but only because my family is thousands of
miles away. I want them to still have a daughter, but don’t get any ideas. I am a soon
married woman and still have the fortitude of a desperate mother.”
“I already know about your affair with Hagan. It has served as your saving grace. ”
Bergan threw a pair of handcuffs to Hagan who used them on Jack. Bergan then gave the
signal for his Fathers of Grace to head to the Zanzibar base. The Nation of Zanzibar again
claimed this forgotten garden as home. The COBRAS were ready to fight again once
more.
Book III: Scholars all around
We were all young and enthusiastic back then, experiencing a kind of melancholic
excitement to be alive. Parties, friends, education…they were all a part of life. Who was
to say that I would be siding with homicidal maniacs? Their logic made sense and their
methods proved successful…but a little too successful. If the Revelation of John is true,
that war definitely gave meaning to the term “Apocalypse”. Mankind and his civilization
came tumbling to its knees. There was no warning from the conservatives or liberals, just
a yank of the proverbial rug out from underneath all those who we loved or cherished.
There is hope now that man has a dark understanding of war and thus aggression might
just be choked. It is all a matter of time until we see the advent of the second deception…
the rise of the Dark one. They thought the end had been near and yet there is no light in
the tunnel. This is because of a natural law in our universe. He who ascends above and
beyond is a god. Once you lord over mankind, your steps become unnoticeable,
untraceable, erasable. Your very being is as it was two months before conception in the
womb. You become a shadow, a ghost. Ghosts feed on the paranoia of mankind’s insecure
personality. This battle had an end but the war became another story.
FELIX: As printed in the Nonfictional Account of the Atrocious War (War of Attrition)
Woodward Academy, College Park, Georgia; Friday, April 15, 2005
Quentin Novante walked outside into the sun from Brewster Hall. The sun’s blinding rays
caused Novante to shield his eyes.
“Now where is everyone?”
He thought for a moment and guessed them to be in McKay Hall goofing off on the
Internet.
He strolled past the masses of luncheating students as his stomach started to growl.
He waved to a few people he knew and turned left into the door of McKay. He hoped they
were in here as he was starting to get hungry. He hated to play Where’s Calvin.
He ascended on the right side and bumped into Kyle.
“Kyle? Are they in there?”, Novante asked coolly as was his custom.
“Yeah. I’m going to get lunch and then come back here.” The entertaining brunette
replied hastily.
“Any idea what they’re doing?” Novante just thought he’d ask.
“Calvin is outside with April and the rest are watching something on Newgrounds.”
“Outside where? Never mind Kyle, I’ll find out for myself.” Kyle sped down the stairs and
outside.
Novante opened the door and walked inside, making sure to note that Mr. Kruszewski was
seated in his office.
On the other side of the room he saw Brian seated on the far left and he guessed the rest
were nearby.
“Novante!” Brian called out.
Quentin obliged and walked the thirty or so paces to the slightly timid voice.
“Quentin? I assume you are looking for Calvin?” Brian asked.
“Yeah. Is he around here? Kyle said something about April but what does Kyle know?”
“I personally have no idea what Kyle stores upstairs but I do know where Calvin is.
Courtyard off of the band room, campus store side.”
“Thanks. Are you joining us tonight?” Novante asked before he left.
“I’ve already talked to Calvin about my plans this weekend. Sekulow is coming over with
Kurt.” Brian sadly responded
Novante headed off with not so much as a goodbye.
Calvin and April eat their lunch everyday in the courtyard adjoining Richardson by the
Campus Store. Ever since Sophomore year, Calvin had changed into a normal man. What
remained were his mannerisms. Sure he had an acquaintance that didn’t share the same
anatomy, but his treatment of this woman led some to believe he was gay. He hardly ever
showed a public affection such as a hug and hardly ever kissed. But when they were
alone, he would endear her unrequited love with a kiss here or there but it was nothing too
serious by modern standards. If you were to take his manners and analyse them, they
would be classified as gentlemanly and completely aristocratic. Making out never did
quite catch his attention. But it caught hers because of her previous relationship. It had
been physical and she had enjoyed it very much but this Calvin stood stories over her last
intimate partner. He was her knight in shining armor here to save the human soul she held
dear. His servitude at her expense had almost killed any chance for them to ever love each
other. I am of course talking about the Sniper Incident. His bravery had been caused by
her direct involvement in David’ sick and twisted “game”. His choice to battle the menace
set him in the hall of fame of Woodward students. Many he had never met suddenly
appeared in his face. They could not believe that the skinny and peaceful redhead could
execute a sniper shot so cunningly and courageously. He became their gossip boy. And
thanks to a devious plot hatched by American intelligence, he would handle a rifle
again…and again. It had become almost a duty to protect the lives of these students.
Calvin had dreamt one night about a apocalyptic rooftop battle between him and Rob and
David lay on the ground dead. His gut instinct had been tugging at his conscious feelings
for months. He knew Rob had changed since David’ visitation a fortnight or more before.
His mood and inflection had grown more bold by each passing weekend to the point that
his arrogance had become a blind spot in his rearview mirror. He had voiced his opinion
to April and heard the same old speech.
“The David incident is over and he is where he belongs, with the murderous criminals
who plague our justice system. You should know that as well as I. Why do you bother to
keep David in your thoughts? He isn’t going to change just because you pray for him to.
Just forget him and his twisted ideals. He abandoned humanity the day he pulled the
trigger.”
Calvin sighed, “I know April. I know that we should despise David but it is against all I
believe in. I definitely know just how warped his mind has become but that doesn’t give
me the right to hate anyone. I have love for David and I hope he receives fair and equal
punishment. What I hope he does learn justice. He needs to understand that what he did is
unacceptable. I just wish he wouldn’t speak so strangely when we visit him. You
remember what he said last time. I told you about his strange behavior?”
Prism through the looking glass
<Three weeks earlier>
A collection of large tables that sat eight each filled one of the many visitation rooms.
Calvin, Michael, Quentin V., Brian, and Kyle are sitting here. The door opens and in
walks Rob Clark.
“I got your Diet Coke Michael.” He handed Michael 35 cents and a 12 oz can of that dry,
flavorless liquid they call “diet”.
Michael snapped the top, “Thanks Rob.”
Calvin spoke up, “We are only here to provide emotional support for David. Under no
circumstances are we to even mention the incident. This is our only chance to see him
together. Leave the worthless questions for individual visits. Oh and please ignore any
attempt by him that he makes in order to relay his message to the world. He already did
that last year.”
“Rob, that means you!”, Michael piped up, his caramel coated lips spitting sugar in all
directions.
“Thank you Dr. Freud for demonstrating your skill in pin the blame on the donkey.”
Everyone in the room just sat in a stupid silence, thinking that they had been Robbed of
intelligence. Little did they realize that the loss was “all in their head”.
A few minutes of quiet reflection (read as an awkward silence) went by before the door
opened and in walked the devil incarnate, dressed in prison garb and chained with leg and
arm shackles. It was not difficult at all to spot him because the room was the size of a
cafeteria and his form provided a striking contrast to the guards posted in a circular patrol.
He found a seat across from all of them. David looked behind him before sitting. He then
stared at Rob, who then stared back with a knowing smile. Rob decided to be an asshole
and stood up to allow his legs passage across the room. He then sat three chairs away
from David and turned towards the man of the hour.
David laughed heartily before he spoke, “Stupidly clever as always.”
Rob countered, “You are the stupidly clever one. You are smart enough to handle a
powerful sniper gun yet you fall prey easily to the American justice system and dare I
mention that you were captured by the rentacops of the south, the Atlanta police.”
David turned away from Rob with a look of disgust. He had planned out a careful speech
and he had no time for pleasantries.
David cleared his throat and spoke to his audience. “Thank you all for joining me here
today. Forgive the host for the lack of refreshment quality. Believe me, I’m trying. I also
apologize for the uncomfortable furniture I have. I believe it is being reupholstered…” He
turned around to look at the guard and stared for a second. He then returned his gaze to
his “friends”. He checked them over and saw the battle lines he knew had already been
drawn. He knew who would understand and who wouldn’t.
“Some of you are only here today to show your support in a limited fashion. I know you
feel betrayed by my actions this past November and should rightfully feel that way. To you
I ask only to ignore everything I say. When I prove my case before the court, you shall see
the error of your prejudgment. As for those who actually care, welcome to the gates of
hell.”
He scratched his now thickening beard to alleviate the building itch growing there.
Everyone looked him over. Scraggly, tired with bags appearing underneath the eyes, and a
large stain on his uniform kept the attentive eyes of those present from noticing the real
drama on his face. David caught Michael’s staring gaze and couldn’t help himself. In a
bad Scottish accent, David asked a simple question. “How’s your kicking leg?”
Michael’s jaw almost dropped at this apparent insult. David continued his speech and
moved his gaze back to his general audience.
“I have predicted the possible courses this occasion could take so I prepared a question
for those of you to answer. What destroys a friendship more? Is it ambition and greed, or
the idea that one may have evil intentions? Is it a growing disinterest or lack of sympathy?
I have wanted to have this question answered by you four for a while now. Yes I know
there are six of you present but two of you have already sworn your loyalties to me
through subtle hints. The rest of you, excluding one, maintain your prejudgment and for
your immaturity I give thee a quote to remember. Judge not, lest you be judged by your
own criteria. The purpose of this, in my opinion, is just to kiss my ass and tell me that
everything will be fine. I have to deal with those people further down the hall. No, you all
came here today to prove your loyalty to me and you already have, by showing up. Just by
showing your face to me here proves that you have no hatred towards me. Otherwise, you
would have let me rot in this giant apartment building they had the guts to call a prison. I
have had the opportunity to escape three times now but chose to serve out my obligation
to the state of society for just a bit longer. I have now come to understand the theories so
many people call crackpot. I now see through open eyes, unhindered by the glass filters of
society. The John Perfect Smith and Susie Q who dots her I’s and crosses her T’s are but
mere idiosyncratic stereotypes in my mind. No more living in the darkness they call
conscious thought. I live on a higher plane of existence and there are those present who
understand what I speak of. A state of thought that transcends any and all traditional
boundaries.”
Calvin spoke up, interrupting David. “You don’t sound very remorseful David. You sound
very proud of yourself.” He narrowed his eyes.
David laughed. He then stared directly at Calvin, “I should be after all. I got to where I
am without the aid of books and other materials people call “textbooks”. The works that
others read just because they hope it will give them insight into the world and they have a
point, but a wrong one. You don’t need a book to be intellectually stimulated. All you
really need is a writing utensil, a piece of scratch paper, and a million ideas with which to
develop a picture or story. Calvin, you know of what I speak. The moment right before
you begin to draw a picture. That urge to do something creative that drives you to write
on the piece of dried pulp that come in a delightful 8.5x11” size. “
Calvin sat quietly. David looked at him and then to his right, to stare back at Rob.
“What is so funny Rob? Are my words stirring up fits of laughter in your soul or are you
mocking me?” He saw the giant smile gracing the foureyed boy.
“Oh, I am most definitely mocking you David. You have such pitiful insights and
character. You couldn’t make us understand what you were thinking that day any better
than God. And I doubt even he understands your motives. What I am going to do is stand
up, walk away, and laugh.” He turned around and walked out.
“I see that he is as strange as always. Which one of you now wishes to scorn and ridicule
me? I can take it because you see, I am a man.”
A quiet silence pervaded. No one wanted to talk to David anymore, not after his arrogant
speech.
“Get out of my sight you filthy animals!” David looked behind him and told the guard he
was ready to head back.
Brian and Quentin stood to leave, making sure to shake their heads as they left.
Michael too abstained from talking on his way out.
Calvin stood up and walked to the door. He turned and spoke the last words, “David, find
it in your heart. Find the happiness that kept you what you were. Don’t go down the road
you are on. It will only lead to a destructive future.”
With that, the door shut leaving David to the attention of the Atlanta corrections
employees.
“A destructive future huh? I like the sound of that…”
<End Flashback, three weeks later>
“Calvin, You listen to Michael too much. Rob may be strange but he is gentle.”
Calvin winced. He had heard Rob’s tirades become more and more Marxist as time went
by. He had even been scared during one particular speech on the idiocy of the capitalistic
economy not because it came out of Rob’s mouth. He feared it due to its startling truth.
He actually invoked the muse of truth that day. It had brought out the question concerning
which economic system is better and actually crushed it. Communism at its root and most
basic self is an argument that has no counter argument. Everyone lives in complete
harmony and fulfills their duties not out of greed but from the very purity of their heart.
He actually pondered whether or not mankind could successfully implement Marxism. It
had taken him some time to find the only piece of evidence mankind had against
communism and what lessened his fear lay in this truth’s huge capacity. It was the reason
man could never fully realize utopia. Mankind has a capacity for good that is only rivaled
by their capacity for evil. Evil is born out of the hearts of men and this selfevident truth
explained capitalistic success. Capitalism is liberal conservatism. Communism is
conservative liberalism. The world wanted to community based on independent people
and not an independent community. He continued onto his next point.
“Okay, I’ll listen to your logic for once. All this paranoia is tearing at my appetite.”
April elbowed him in the gut, “As if what you just said is possible. I never do understand
how you can eat all the sweets in the world and lose weight.”
“It’s all in the genes.” Calvin put on a smile as he brought another Reese’s cup to his
mouth. Such delightful candies they are and the flavor never fails to remain succulent.
Novante came up on Calvin’s right and apologized for interrupting. Neither Calvin nor
April foresaw anything wrong.
“What is up Novante?” Calvin asked.
Michael saw how happy Calvin was and compared that with a few months ago. He
needed a girlfriend.
“I came up with another reason why Rob is working with David.”
April put her hands up in the air in anguish. She had just tried to talk Calvin out of
bothering with it. Whether or not Novante was right had no bearing in her argument. She
felt it was best just to ignore it until something more persuasive than the tiny Cuban. It
wasn’t his ability to persuade but just his quiet nature. When people are quiet, they think
and thinking leads to the possible formulation of conspiracy and theories. Put the two
together and the resulting balance becomes the sum of all fears. Paranoia is best left to the
eloquently described “kids in their parent’s basement” who believed in the Roswell alien
landing and the sasquatch.
“Quentin! No more of that nonsense! I just persuaded Calvin to drop it and here you come
with your psychosis. What do you have against Rob?”
“Now look here April! When Rob does spring David from prison, I will laugh my head
off.”
“Who told you these lies?” April asked.
“I have my sources.” Novante responded.
“Well I know just what Rob is up to. Calvin and I went to his house one night and we
happened to see Alex Bolton leaving. It seems that they have started a club of some kind.
It’s him and…who was the other one Calvin?”
“Matt Sargent. He still goes here but is going to Riverwood next year.”
“They seem to be doing something.” Calvin knew exactly what they were plotting. It was
Alex’s surprise for April that Calvin had arranged. Rob had told Calvin about April’s
rendezvous with Alex and had accepted it as inevitable. He only wanted to be a friend but
yet, he felt he wanted more as each moment passed. Her smile, like every woman,
outshone the sun and brought life to his day. The clouds feared her energy because it
seemed as though they would part at her whim. She controlled the weather in his mind. If
she felt the blues, he felt the blues. They had a connection but it never went anywhere.
“What about David’ reference to his confederates? He had to know that…”
Calvin had to interrupt because he did not want to force April to leave. He quite enjoyed
her presence.
“What he said had no meaning unless you wanted it to. He was speaking only to a select
few in that room. He was speaking to those who understood the subtle symbols he
referenced. Let us just leave it at that until we have more evidence. Please?”
April nodded her head, “Come now Novante. You heard what Rob has said. He is as
disturbed by David as we are. He hasn’t had one good thing to say about him since that
horrible day. There is no way that David and Rob are in collusion.”
“Nice use of a vocabulary word.” Calvin remarked.
“Thanks.” April felt herself warming up again. It had grown to an uncontrollable pitch.
She wanted him and he seemed oblivious to this fact. She almost despised the notion of
abstinence. It seemed too controlling and antiquated in stature.
“Well, we’ll see just how right you are. I saw how interested Rob was. He was definitely
on David’s side. I know Quentin is trying to destroy my argument because he doesn’t
understand and thinks he is smarter than me. Ignore the Jew for once Calvin. Maybe you
might learn something.”
Novante stood up angrily and walked towards the cafeteria to get lunch.
I don’t have to put up with them. Oh wait…
He turned around and slowly walked back to Calvin. He sulked up behind him.
“Yes Novante?” Calvin smiled again.
“We are meeting where after school?”
“My bus. See you there and lose the angry attitude. Just have some fun and ignore
Michael. He tends to get on our nerves sometimes but that doesn’t make him a bad person
necessarily. Just makes him what he is: Michael.”
Novante sighed and mumbled some sort of agreement with Calvin as he headed out to
lunch.
Just as Novante walked out, another set of eyes targeted Calvin. Tiffany Price walked up
behind him.
“Hey Calvin?”
Calvin turned around, slightly annoyed.
“Yes.” He saw who it was. “Oh sorry. What can I do you for?”
She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to him.
“Can you make sure this finds Rob’s hands.”
“Rob?” Calvin asked.
She crossed her arms, “The slightly weird one you are friends with. He asked me to send
a note through you to him. Does he use email? Because I am sure that email is more
efficient.”
“Rob hasn’t used email since he got his job with CNN. He says that now the govt. is
pRobably watching him. I think he’s just being sarcastically paranoid.”
“CNN? Job? I understand now what his game is, but whatever. Just make sure he gets it,
will you?”
“Sure, why not?” Novante’s argument just made a load more sense.
She turned around and headed back to wherever she hung out during lunch hour. (Okay
so it is 50 minutes. Give me a damn break!)
He looked at it.
Christ the King 8PM Friday Understood
The note had no relation to him, so he put it in his wallet.
“Now to get back to the subject of this weekend.” Calvin addressed April to setup a
suitable time for her to arrive at his house.
“I can’t.” She lied. She knew full well that she could but needed to experience the world.
She needed people to hang out with. “I am going to a movie with a few friends tonight.”
“Well I hope you enjoy it.” Calvin pulled out his binder and began to quiz April on the
notes he had taken. They had a test next period.
Déjà vu
Pickup here
Calvin sat down in class and brought out his notebook to finish up his preparations for
today’s exam. He had studied last night and the night before but he knew a quick refresher
would be nice.
The students filed in when the bell rang earlier than usual. Calvin raised his head along
with his eyebrows.
The bell just rang two minutes ago. We still have another minute. He mused to himself.
The PA system rang and Mr. Lineberry’s voice came on over the loudspeaker.
“Teachers, please usher the students into classrooms and begin sweeping those on free
periods into empty classrooms please. We are moving into lockdown. I’ll come back on in
a few minutes.”
He sat there quietly, awaiting the news he was bound to hear. A large group bounded into
the room babbling about prisons and breakouts.
“I even heard David made it out. Now we have that sicko on the loose again.”
He kept hearing David’s name and the word breakout.
He can’t be free? There is now way he could have made it out. Calvin could hardly
believe his own ears. He had begun to share Novante’s sentiment but only on a
theortetical level where pigs can fly.
His teacher walked in and shut the door when the intercom came on again.
“Teachers and students, by request of the President we are moving our school into a
lockdown phase. As many of you have no doubt heard, this morning at 10:15 AM, the
Fulton County Corrections Facility came under attack and fifteen inmates escaped. No
official list of names has been released but it is speculated that David Jackson, who
brought tragedy to our door last year, is among those freed in the chaos. The CIA and the
President have advised the Department of Homeland Security to raise the security level.
In accordance with the President’s wishes, our school will facilitate the departure of all
students in a safe and secure manner. Until we have a full head count, no student is to
roam the halls or leave the premises. Once we are sure all students are accounted for, we
will prepare the buses and notify parents of evacuation plans. As of this moment, plans
for tomorrow are under review and are awaiting advisement from the state and federal
governments. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
Calvin sat there stunned. David has made it back into mainstream society. That is bad
news for everyone.
David sped down the highway in the back of a truck, tied up and blindfolded.
“Don’t worry my glorious prize. I’ve never enlisted the services of a kid before but…you
are special.”
David listened intently to the voice. Why does it sound so familiar?
“Why did we tie you up when we promised to free you? I don’t know, maybe it was a
personal preference. Or maybe it was vengeance for the pain you put me through last
November…”
The truck passed under a sign: Northside Drive Exit
A label on the back read: North Fulton County Corrections
David felt the truck decelerate. His body slid forward and he hit his head on some sort of
hard metal. Last November? Who on earth frees a prisoner they put away?
A few minutes passed by as he went over the remainder of his mission.
1. Find the Catholic Church of Atlanta, better known as Christ the King.
2. Visit the confessional and give the codephrase: “My soul is exceeding sorrowful
even unto death”
3. Receive directions to his pen pal, Pride. Pride had sent him many notes of
endearment whilst in the confines of the correctional facility. Now it was time to
unmask the pen behind the words.
The truck turned a few corners until it stopped for a brief term before making a hard left.
David slid forward as the truck went downhill and over a few speed bumps before making
another left. The truck pulled up behind a church and near a dumpster. The driver put it
into park.
“This is where our charge comes to fulfillment. Unbind him and set him down. Then
return to the truck. We have a plane to catch.”
“Yes Chief.”
Chief of Police, Wesley O’Neill rubbed the newly grown mustache he had recently
trimmed.
“Bergan better hold up his side of the bargain. This kid is a danger whether incarcerated
or not; dead or alive. The ends better justify the means.”
The driver opened the back door and dragged David to the end of the bed and unbound
the ropes.
“Nothing personal son; it’s only business. Keep sound and strong.”
David murmured an “uhhuh” through the tape on his mouth.
He was then lifted up and carried five feet and dropped.
An engine roared up and the truck sped away.
David then reached to his side and gently pressed in.
“URGHGHHHHHHH!!”
He groaned as he felt his lower ribs.
Why did it have to be so difficult?
Escape from Fulton
3:00 AM, Earlier that day
David opened his eyes. He looked to his right to see his cellmate standing right in his
face.
“Wake up.” He whispered very quietly into David’s ear.
Oh boy. Here we go again, another late night rendezvous.
David slowly sat up and climbed out of his bed. His feet hit the floor with a quiet thud.
“Hurry up. Let’s make this quick.” The impatience in his tone implied brevity.
“Okay, I’m hurrying.”
David sat down on his cellmate’s bed. His cellmate raised his hand in front of David’s
face to show him a map.
It was crudely drawn and had an x along with some arrows.
“This was sent by Pride, your informant. He is going to get you out of here but first you
must be at this x at exactly 10AM. You will miss your cue if you do not.”
“So I go here at 10 AM?”
“Yes, now take this map with you and study it before dawn. At dawn, dispose of it as it
could be considered contraband. It must not be found by anyone else.”
“Got it. Thank you.”
David climbed back into bed and looked it over until dawn.
When he was let out of his cell for breakfast, he knew he would have an hour to burn until
teatime. He had worked extra hard this morning to clean his cell for he knew he would
never return to it. His breakfast hour was spent eating the biscuits they had.
He checked the clock in the cafeteria. 9:47. He had 13 minutes and he did not know if his
cue would be precisely on time. He made his way to the x in his mind.
A few guards nodded at him. Some more just stared. Fellow inmates were wondering
where he was going. David arrived at the x: the entrance to the Warden’s office.
There were no clocks nearby but he knew he was on time.
A voice came from behind, “Why are you here?” A guard walked up.
“Someone promised me cigarettes.” David lied.
The guard smiled, “Funny. I don’t recall you to be of the smoking type. Is it true though?”
David looked detached, “True about what? True that I enjoyed every minute of that
fateful day?”
The guard frowned, “No. True that there is a price on your head?”
The guard threw his fist towards David’s gut but the boy was quicker than expected and
the knuckles made contact with ribs. David flew into the wall clutching his side.
“Now for the coup de grace.” (Pronounced “coop dee grayce”)
The guard nailed him in the stomach with the steel toe on the end of his boot.
David fell to the ground, almost unconscious.
A voice floated through the airwaves. A new voice, one he had heard before but could not
recall.
“Don’t kill him, I want him alive.”
David opened his eyes two hours later behind the church, withholding a yell.
He slowly pulled at the blindfold, every movement of his arm producing a ripple of fire
throughout his thorax. The knot came loose and he let the bandanna fall into his hands. It
was black and had all sorts of tears through it. David pushed his legs up and slowly stood,
making sure not to bring attention to his ribs. He brought the bandanna from his hand to
his face and looked at it. A snake slithered from the middle to both ends. On one end was
a hawk with the USMC motto Semper Fi on it and the other side had a white dove
engraved. Intials were also present, Lt. CJH.
David pocketed the bandanna, his lower ribs still burning and searing with unbearable
pain.
Must have hit a nerve. Bastard.
He slowly walked in through the side door and into the congregating area. He sought out
the confessional booth. He moved his eyes to the right and left before giving up. He found
the nearest pew and sat down, unaware of the two eyes following him. An older
gentleman approached him, “Can I help you sir?”
David met his host’s eyes with a pained look, “Please point me toward the confessional.”
“You seem injured? Do you need assistance?”
David looked at his right arm, clutching his right side.
“This…” He nodded toward his right side. “It’s an old football injury that became
aggravated recently. I have made an appointment with my doctor to correct it. Just please
point me toward the confessional.”
David grimaced and the older man pointed to the left, “Around the corner.”
“Thanks, I appreciate your help.” A pang shot up through his body.
He stumbled, “I’ll be fine.” He grabbed onto the pews and put one foot forward at a time
as he made his way towards the pulpit. He began to sweat profusely. As the pulpit neared,
he gained back his balance. But his luck didn’t last long.
“Aghhhh!” He stifled the scream as he hit the ground as sweat dripped from his forehead.
It was at this time that his stomach began to churn and nausea rose up through his chest.
He breathed heavily as the older man turned around to help.
“Are you sre you are okay?” This boy was beginning to concern him.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking. I thank you for your help.”
David began scuffling his feet along the brick floor. The dark clay spat up dust as he
dragged his feet.
He strutted around the corner of the pulpit and around to the back, past the choir room,
and to the left. He saw the familiar box.
“What an obstinate character. He must be a Catholic” The older man mused with a frown.
He knew this assumption was untrue.
He opened the curtain and sat down inside, making sure to cradle his ribs.
Bastard knew what was going to happen and told me a lie. I wasn’ expecting a shot to the
ribs.
The sliding door opened. “Can I help you?” The priest wasn’t as compassionate as he
would have expected. He thought they would ask: “What is it my son?”
He spoke the codephrase just as another pang shot up through his body. He wished they
hadn’t taken away that pad holding his ribs. It had numbed the pain.
“My soul is exceedingly urghhhhhh!” He felt the tension in his belly rise.
“My soul is exceedingly sorrowful even unto death.” His stomach was on the verge of
exploding. The pain had now reached an ever building mountain instead of leveling off
like a plateau. His vision failed him and blurred, making the world into a strange
kaleidoscope arrangement.
The other side of the booth responded, “Let us numb your agony David.”
A small man walked in with a needle. “Let Morpheus calm your mind.” He pushed in the
plunger a tiny bit and emptied the sparse needle.
His vision continued to blur but the pain subsided ever so slowly as the plunger emptied
the syringe. “4 mg should render his mental faculties useless for at least 23 hours. At
least by then we should know what to do next..” David closed his eyes as his body went
limp. What did they give me? And who is Morpheus?
“The pain must have subsided. He is limp.”
The other man walked out of the shadows. It was Brock Bergan. “Yes, he is quietly
visiting the world of Morpheus. Help me carry him dowstairs.”
“You sure they approve of this Major Bergan?”
Bergan smiled, “I’m family here. As a man of God, I have visited this beautiful cathedral
every Sunday for Mass. That is what is expected of a Christian.”
They dragged him downstairs and into an empty classroom. They laid him in a corner and
covered him with a blanket.
“Will he be okay with that dose?” Bergan wanted to know. He was no doctor.
“All we have to do is administer water every hour to hydrate his system but other than that
he should be fine. I’ll check his blood pressure every thirty minutes just to make sure. Not
SOP but necessary in such unprofessional conditions.”
Bergan sat down and pulled out his phone, “Kenneth, you continue to impress me.”
Kenneth beamed with pride.
“This is Pride, phase one finished. Package delivered.” Bergan closed his phone.
“Now we sit and wait for the media.”
TGIF
Calvin plunked down into his seat, exhausted. He had been sitting for three hours in that
plastic seat waiting to go home. Novante sat down next to him.
“To think David is free after all he did. It isn’t fair.” Novante just sat there listening.
“And then Michael gets a call from Rob who says he can’t come tonight.” Novante added.
“Everyting has gone awry since November. David goes ape and pulls a Columbine, Rob
starts an internship with CNN and ignores us completely, Michael spends more time
working with Rob, and I now get random notes directed to Rob from almost every person
in our grade.” Calvin let out his frustrations. “All of our pRoblems stem from David’s
incident. Luckily Rob covered my story as part of his school internship and destroyed the
media’s portrayal of me. I have to give him props for that.”
“Just listen to me. David is in cahoots with Rob, today proves it.”
Calvin had already lost interest. “Let’s just go to my house and play videogames. Forget
today’s events, and just have fun.” Calvin pulled out his CD player and closed his eyes as
the bus exited Woodward property and headed to Country Club of the South.
On the other side of town, Brock Bergan quietly read the Atlanta Journal/Constitution.
There was an interesting article about the redheaded boy who had taken up arms against
the Woodward sniper. The article had been written by his newest contact, Rob Clark, who
had informed him of David’s abilities.
Kenneth lay in a chair half asleep and daydreaming about various things and Bergan
shook his head. He hadn’t refreshed the injured patient according to the schedule given
earlier. The younger man also seemed to be sporting an erection.
“Kenneth?” Bergan sharply commanded. Kenneth shook out of his sleep.
“Did you remember to give our guest a cold refreshment?” He pointed to the covered
David.
Kenneth rose out of his dreamland. “Huh?”
“Did you forget about the unconscious patient or did sexual fantasies take priority?”
“I thought of nothing in that category!” Kenneth stood groggily, his lower half paralyzed
by excessive sitting. As he stood, he realized that his sleep had lasted longer than
originally intended and now he had a raging hard on. Bergan most definitely noticed.
“I remind you that we are in God’s house and lewd thoughts are considered unnatural.”
Bergan looked the young doctor over and noted the large tent protruding from the zipper
area. “It’s a little unusual for the cock to crow so late in the afternoon.”
“The sun rises every minute in my world.” Kenneth fought the blush rising in his cheeks.
He thought of many things that would stifle this benign growth in his pants.
Bergan set the paper down and stood up, “Let’s skip the toilet humor and just arouse the
patient so we can satisfy his natural urges. Shall we?” He threw up his arms in question,
“Hurry up and clean out the gutters in your mind while you’re at it. We don’t have time
for adolescent fantasies. They’ll only be a distraction and I dislike distractions while I am
working. Am I perfectly clear?” He made sure to convey his severe disapproval.
“I’m sorry sir. I forget my location and myself. I gave into my world of lust and ignored
my duty. Forgive me.” Kenneth looked earnestly at Bergan. He had become truly
remorseful. Kenneth only wanted acceptance; being the quiet orphan that he was.
Bergan looked at his face and recognized a sliver of emotion he had witnessed one place
before. He couldn’t quite place it but he had the distinct feeling that look had graced his
eyes before. Where do I know him from?
“Always mind your surroundings, my brother. The boy thirsts only to beg. Do not let ask
come to beg.”
“Yes sir.” Kenneth walked out to search for a water source. He left the door open. I need
to teach him to live in a civilized world where we shut the door. Bergan sat back down to
pick up the paper. It had gotten quieter but a gentle beat caught his attention. He’s late.
He heard the beat stop outside the door. His years of experience had hardened his ears to
the soft creep of an inexperienced novice.
“You’re later than usual. After our first meeting, my impression nailed you as a punctual
man. Why the long wait?” Bergan spoke through the ink and paper.
“So I kept you waiting, huh? Sorry about that.” A younger, less gruff voice came over the
edges of the newspaper.
He is on the move. To the right?
“Don’t mind if I borrow your words?”
The newspaper flew out of his hands, ripping at the sides. The hands balled it up and
threw the newspaper in the trash. Rob looked up at Bergan.
“Didn’t you know? The news media only know one word and I am surprised they never
use it.”
“Sit down and answer to me like you respectfully should.”
Rob looked for a chair and saw the empty seat Kenneth had been using.
“Anybody sitting here?” He asked with a grin.
“Not anymore.” Bergan returned the tongueincheek disposition.
“What it is Chief?”
Bergan crossed his arms.
“Okay so I was late. Forgive me father for I have sinned.”
Bergan cleared his throat. Children are always the same, no matter what latitiude or
longitude they hail from. Always perky and disrespectful. Turn the other cheek and ignore
their snide comments. They’ll learn one day.
Rob stared at the giant of a man in front of him. Brock Bergan was about 6’5” and built in
much the same way that a bear is. The description would most likely read: husky but
strong.
“I apologize Major for my insolence. The audacity of youth I suppose.” He pulled out the
memory stick he carried in his pocket.
“Everything on David Raymond Jackson, III that was in document format. Working the
DMV exhausts the body.”
“And it also tires the mind. You were not traced?” Bergan looked sternly. He wanted no
chinks in his armor when Hell froze over.
“All arrogance aside, I kept my infiltration in confidence. There is never need for
worrying.” Rob held a smile of confidence. He had succeeded for the first time in his life.
He was excelling on the path to justice.
“You persuade me quickly and I hold no judgment. Good job Mr. Clark.”
“Thank you. What of David over there? I know he is safe in the House of God but why
this one?” Rob just was curious as to why they chose Christ the King.
Bergan shifted in his seat, “I myself am a man of God. I only promote violence to clean
up the filth left by a millennia of human incompetence. Recycle the trash remaining from
pointless wars that achieved satanic ideals such as human land ownership and capitalism.
God owns this land and even declares so in His divine testaments. This world of deceit
was created by those misguided on the principle of their Lord. The Lord only condones
violence committed for the benefit of all humanity, all nationalities included. Are you
sure you want to commit to a revolution in our current civilization?” Bergan eyed the boy
he knew had selfdoubt within.
Rob looked down for a moment, forming his words carefully. This will be considered the
first step to eventual revolution.
He opened his mouth, “I have no love for the current iteration of society. It lacks strength
and integrity vital to the cooperation of all parts within. When certain rogue programs in
a computer operating system do not cooperate, the program fails and then crashes. You
cannot stop what will inevitably happen. The bottom of society will raise up their staffs of
war to level the playing field of world politics…” He smiled, “…And then watch as
humanity’s greatest regression becomes its grandest innovation.”
Bergan smirked, “Touching yet enlightening. You do have the divine spark but you over
strain it with prideful boasts. Do not let pride be your enemy; harness it faithfully through
the Lord’s eternal wisdom. Train your arrogant nature in the ways of modesty and
humility and then your true talents will shine as bright as our beloved star.” Bergan felt
his confidence boosted by this young lad’s showcase of understanding and integrity. He
was the one for the job.
“You still must finish the training I have allotted to you in order to join BOULDER.”
BOULDERThe newest Advanced Conflict Eliminator, a genre invented by Bergan
himself. They are at the level of Delta Force and the US Navy Seals and fight with the
ferocity of the Army’s Green Berets. They were the best the world had to offer.
“”Since we are now officially recognized by the United Nations as a mercenary group, we
will lead the charge for a new world order with the EAGLE and ASP teams. You will be
the leader of the latest addition to BOULDER, COBRA. Cooperative Operations Bravo
Reconnaissance, Assault. You are the Commanding Officer once your training has been
completed. You will need a computer technician, a social analyst, an engineer of some
degree, and a communications expert. Your team should be comprised of those deemed
‘righteous and brilliant.”
“Righteousness and brilliance hardly ever correlate Bergan.” Rob remarked negatively, his
long sad face delivering his dark message.
“Then your search has become that much easier. I will expect at least a few candidates to
fill at least one of the spots. I need to see just how resourceful you are, otherwise COBRA
would not be very cooperative, would it?” Bergan lowered his face to narrow his gaze.
Rob shook his head, “No sir. I’ll try and I already have one member on my team. David
Jackson will work with me if that is at all possible?”
“It is indeed more possible than you think.” Bergan said with a wink.
Calvin and Novante charged down the stairs and into the entertainment room.
Novante noticed a distinct smell, “What happened down here? Did you all clean the
carpet?”
“Not exactly, Rob threw up last weekend. We just had them professionally cleansed. All
right, what are we going to do?”
Novante shrugged, “Michael borrowed Dead or Alive Ultimate from Rob and I was
hoping to play a bit of that. Also, he promised to bring DMC3 so we could see more of
it.”
“Sounds good. How about some Dead or Alive 3 to warm up?” Calvin cocked his right
eyebrow.
“Sounds good to me.” Novante popped over the couch and onto a pillow.
Kenneth walked back into the room with a cup of water. He saw Rob and nodded hello.
“Rob Clark, meet Kenneth Stanley. Kenneth is currently enrolled at Emory and is
working for his MD in Biomedical Science.”
“I always loved the Star Wars books and that somehow got me interested into cyborgs and
androids and other adolescent science fiction. Androids are still several decades from
conception but prosthetics has garnered a reputation worldwide. I want to work for
pharmaceutical companies or other medicineoriented businesses. Its my way of
satisfying my adolescent id.” He gently tread across the carpet, handling the glass of
water carefully.
Bergan lifted the blanket gently so that Kenneth could administer the cup of water.
“Open wide. Here is some fresh water.”
David quietly mumbled, “Where am I…” His eyes were still closed and he seemed to be
more asleep than awake. Kenneth knelt next to him.
“What did you all give him? Some sort of sedative?” Rob asked quietly.
“Bergan requested Codeine but we needed to keep the kid quiet for a few days so I opted
to go a step beyond weak opiates and chose Morphine. It is not exactly the smartest
decision as Morphine severely retards the CNS but I have vowed to keep a close eye on
him, making routine checks throughout the day. We also keep him hydrated on an hourly
basis. We injected him about 2 hours ago so our dosage should be in the elimination
stage. He has already proven that he is semiconscious and as soon as he wakes up, we
will allow him to use the restroom. We wouldn’t want the leftovers building up in his
kidneys, it’s just not safe.”
Rob just nodded as if he understood but he frankly had no idea what this kid was babbling
about. He only thought Morphine to be an addictive painkiller.
“And how much did you give him?” Rob just wanted to know how much Morphine David
was on.
“About 4 mg, a modest dose. It worked only because David has pRobably never
encountered Morphine before. If we were forced to give him more, I’d say 4.2 mg should
put him back to sleep for a short amount of time. After which we can hand him over to
the real professionals and patch up his right ribs. They took one hell of a beating. We put
a small brace to keep them from moving but I am no orthopedic.”
Bergan stepped in, “Just give the kid his water before we spill it.” He tipped the cup
forward and David began drinking slowly.
“So he is just going to stay here until the coast is clear?” Rob put his thoughts out into the
open, expecting a predictable response.
“That is of no concern to you now. Go ahead and have your fun because come Monday,
we head for Colorado. You will see David as soon as your arrangements have been
made.”
“And what is to become of me?”
Bergan looked at the new kid with a happy frown, “You are to become the greatest
religious soldier I’ve ever had.”
Rob grimaced upon hearing those two words in the same sentence, “Religious soldier?”
“An instrument of God.” Bergan stated with his eyebrows arching as if he truly believed
what he was saying.
Ring out
9:45 PM, Livingston Residence, Country Club of the South
“Damnit!!” Novante howled as Michael once again defeated him in Soul Calibur 2.
“You almost had me there Novante.” Michael turned to look towards his opponent.
“Yeah but you used your attack once again to knock me out of the ring. You haven’t won a
single battle by depleting my health. You are relying on ringouts.” Novante was just a wee
bit agitated.
“Why would they allow ring outs if they were cheap?” Michael asked with a knowing
smile. His question hung in the air until answered by an approaching voice.
“Because they were hoping ring outs would be used strategically instead of as a strategy.”
Rob walked into the room.
“Calvin, sorry I am so late. I had business to attend to. Work is no longer an idle game.”
“How did you get in without me calling the gate?”
“I went over to Kyle’s to see if he could write me a program. I am testing an idea I have
about AI and I wanted to see if it would work.”
By now he had the whole room listening. “Well did it?”
Rob shook his head, “In a way it did but we needed more memory. I am going to purchase
a RAM upgrade and test it out at home. I am also going to have to buy an external hard
drive.”
Calvin stood up and greeted his guest, “How was your week?” They both looked each
other in the eye. Both knew the answer.
“Boring and pointless. Just as it always is.” Rob uttered the line he had all but
memorized.
“Everything is usually boring. It just takes leet skill to see the world through more
intrigued eyes.”
“My eyes have seen their fair share of intrigue, Calvin.” Rob sat down next to Michael on
the couch. He looked around at the rather large basement room. Two chairs, one leather
and one stitched fabric; a couch with a flower design; and a table with which to place
popcorn and soda containers as well as remotes. The leather chair was a brown shade
with a retractable foot rest. The stitched chair had a stationary footrest that had a broken
leg. It always frustrated the person who sat in that particular chair.
“I see you’ve been playing Soul Calibur.”
“Why don’t you try and destroy Michael’s lead?” Novante offered his controller from the
leather chair.
Rob accepted the clunky Controller S and recalled the button configurations.
“He used the ring out strategy. For shame Michael, for shame.”
“Calvin seems to be the only one here who can work around that strategy.”
Novante smirked. Just you wait Michael. Just you wait. He knew Rob could wear Michael
down as the two would constantly clash over meaningless arguments. Either Rob had a
knack for them or he was just enticing Michael into a duel, Novante did not know. He
looked over at Calvin who seemed to be in on his little game.
Rob was paying Michael no attention and was only focused on what had happened earlier.
Two hours earlier
Tiffany had arrived for the briefing before the trip to BOULDER for recruitment.
“So you need a social worker to help with people and children?” She really wanted to
help these guys out. The only person who phased her out happened to be her boss.
“Yes,” Rob spoke quietly. He had been getting used to his new job. He was under
surveillance, however, and needed to keep his professional cool.
“Just someone who understands people. We need all the strategy we can get. I just hope
you have no reservations against criminals.”
She pulled her head back slightly, “I’ll work with em’ but I won’t gurantee that I will
cooperate with them.”
“It’s the thought that counts. You’ll need to attend school and finish your degree but up
until then you will have a long distance job with us. Just work at your own pace until we
hire you full time. Did you make sure to hand the note to Calvin?” Rob closed his hands
together. Bergan was watching coldly from across the table. Kenneth was lying David in
Bergan’s transport.
“Yes. I do not see why you should mess with his head like this. This kind of shenanigan is
reserved for people who attend higher education.” Tiffany smiled, knowing full well that
this creep had about as much chance of attending college as did her ancestors.
“I have no love for this world. It bores me and it reeks of a certain pervading stench that
just blinds you from the desires of an earthly nature. Some see a beautiful tree whereas I
see an unfinished home. It is a negative view but my opinion is of no consequence.”
“I understand where you are coming from but why cause death? Murder doesn’t change
anything.”
“I spent six years wondering why I felt so differently. Why the same things didn’t tempt
me that ruined the lives of other. Why did I despise money? Why do people look so
funny? Why are we here? The answers to these questions evaded me until I reached the
point where I didn’t even believe in myself, much less God. Then it dawned on me, that
humans were given a choice between belief and atheism. That choice allows for complete
acceptance of this mortal existence but there will always be the anomaly that threatens to
undo all that has been done. I am that anomaly and now I must carry out my duty to
unravel the equations of life until the Holy Spirit intervenes. Before God, I am willing to
go to the depths of hell itself in order to display the sickest of human emotions. If
aggression is indeed a civilized emotion, I will show humanity and God just how debased
it is. If you are going to join us, you must have the confidence to overcome guilt. Guilt is
the check against anger and unbalanced karma. Without it, the system would be filled
with anomalies. The chosen one feels no emotion and displays it not. He is supposed to
bring misery to the people before the final battle between good and evil. Then I must
fight for the forces of God and destroy the evils of mankind. Our methods are untraceable
and our group nonexistent. It is my destiny, my duty to God to wipe out from existence
the ones who reject the coming of the Lord. The choice is up to you and we do not force
religion on our employees but just be aware that this is not some war. No, it is a crusade.”
A cell phone began to vibrate as Rob and Michael waged a virtual battle using swords.
The sound was reverberating off of some sort of hardened surface. Calvin stood up to find
the sound’s origin, locating the little electronic device in Rob’s bag.
“Rob, your phone is ringing. It’s Kyle.” Calvin looked at the caller ID
Rob, busy working his controller asked Calvin to let it ring.
Rob had one sliver left of health whereas Michael had just a bit under an 1/8th. His body
neared the edge of the circular ring and all the inhabitants of that room knew what would
happen next. Michael blocked Rob’s grapple with a front slash from his broad sword,
forcing Rob’s character out of the match.
Rob dropped the controller as Michael knocked him out of the ring for the fourth time.
“You played strongly Rob. Rob?”
Rob looked up and stared at Michael, in a trance, “Why do some people lack empathy?”
“What!? Come again?”
Novante walked back in with a Coke. “What is he babbling about again?”
“He asked: “Why do people lack empathy? Some people lack empathy?...I don’t know,
sorry.” He noticed Rob’s face crunch up in anger.
“Because they are insane, I have no idea. Maybe they lack selfesteem or social
confidence.” Michael tried his psychology. It didn’t work.
Michael always used sarcasm but he never was the only one. Rob had asked him an
honest question and had received an uncaring response. Why do people treat others so?
Do they lack the common decencies required of a true human or are they so lost in
themselves that they forget their duty? He picked up the phone and checked his Missed
Calls list. Just the person I have been waiting for. Now with two prisoners freed from their
cells, it is time to commence the Lion’s Roar .
“Thank you Michael. Your opinion is as valued as the $3.99 sale at Target.” He marched
out of the room, followed by Calvin.
“Rob? What’s bothering you?” Calvin called out after his friend. It was always so easy to
read human emotion. Rob grabbed the door handle, the knob that lead to the back green
in Calvin’s yard.
“Do humans retain the ability of peaceful cooperation, or do they just abandon their
childhood dreams of a utopian future?”
“Hopefully no one abandons their childhood dreams. But if they do, I am sure they make
the decision freely. DO you need some time alone?”
Rob turned the knob and moved outside, “I need some fresh air.”
Let it be
Calvin watched as Rob walked outside, lonely strutting out into the spring air. Today had
been particularly troublesome and somehow, he understood why Rob might be depressed.
Everyone’s cake bad been turned upside down in some way or another. School became
progressively more difficult, David commits murder out of vengeance, Rob gets an
internship with a news conglomerate, the list continues ad infinitum. What mattered right
now happened to be the answer to why the foureyed hermit now walked outside his
house: Does isolation exist in a social situation?
Rob moved outside and into the moonlight, its cold warmth vibrating the day’s dark aura.
Am I naturally evil or is it all of mankind? He wondered why only he seemed to surely
take offence to the outrageous misuse of power currently ripping our species apart. Am I
so different as to allow the unbinding of social principle? Am I truly an anomaly? His
faith had grown weaker until recently but he held strong now. He needed to hold his guard
against selfdoubt and the forces of darkness. Why do men and women turn a blind eye to
the suffering of others they know full well could be saved? Is it doubt or ignorance?
Could it be fear of retribution? It is tearing me apart Lord! Why must people suffer in
order to obtain grace?
Calvin and Michael peered out at the lone teenager trotting to the golf green behind the
Livingston house.
“Do you truly think something could be wrong? I thought he was only arousing another
worthless debate?” Michael expressed his concern, like the true friend he is.
“I bet something is plaguing that mind of his. There always is a pRoblem running through
his mind. Leave him be, he’ll sort it out sooner or later. Just watch for the obvious signs
of suicide.” Calvin turned to Michael.
Michael turned as well, “Obvious signs? This isn’t a joke is it?”
Calvin threw on his concerned face, “No! No! They say that there are obvious signs that
pinpoint to suicidal thoughts?” He knew he was persuading Michael slowly.
Michael played along, “What are they, a rope and a pistol?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a silent walk through my community’s woods.
He’s a strange one but who here has the right to call anyone strange?”
Michael and Calvin both laughed quietly for they were right. They were all going against
the usual norms accepted by society. They clashed against stereotypes that bind and
strangle cultures like a constrictor would its victims, thus draining the life out of a
community until the foundations crumble and then fall.
Michael Kurtiss’s family proclaimed Jewish ancestry and so could be bound by the
stereotype that all Jews are stingy Democrats. Not really so as this stereotype is older than
Father Time. Michael and his family kept a balanced and strongly organized life centered
around intelligence and exercise. Thus the stereotype was broken as this boy flowed to
where he needed to, as he was taught. Having a love for swords and other noble weapons,
Michael naturally veered towards samurai and demonslayers as they are portrayed as
more noble yet vicious creatures. This obsession, if you will, could be centered around
Michael’s psychological fixation with well…psychology and philosophy. He understood
what mankind was and where the species might grow. He knew that men and women
were vicious yet noble creatures.
Calvin Livingston dreamed of being a filmmaker and devoted his upper school career
toward achieving such a bold dream. He however had more conservative views but always
sought out middle ground in order to avoid tensions. He was raised to be a true All
American boy, centered around the philosophy of this great country as a man of wisdom
and integrity. There were no cheap shortcuts, only noble workarounds. In this way, Calvin
could help break the stereotype that all people associated with film are liberals.
David Jackson typified the average paranormal child. Having an interest in social
situations kept him active and understood by his peers but this alone did not satisfy him.
He felt the tug of intelligence screaming the wrongs of the world out to his conscience.
Sure he supported Bush but who gives a fuck. He knew politics was defined as many
bloodsucking insects and respected it as so. His political convictions were lacking though
as he was younger and really had no motivation to talk about it. But he would defend his
argument to the point, like an American or any human being should always do. He was a
Jackson damnit! You don’t cross a family of German descent and expect no reprisal. If he
couldn’t harm you physically, he waited until he could. His primary means of revenge
were Airsoft and finally mass murder by means of sniping. This kid was trained by the
best and had a very bright future had he not maimed innocent civilians. His story would
flesh out as time went by.
Brian Roberts continuously kept an eye out for new technologies in the computing and
software worlds. Burning bootleg DVDs was so simple to him, he barely wasted a disc.
HTML, C, Video Editing software were all considered n00bs before him as he would
master the system and hack it from every angle until it begged for mercy. (N00b is
defined as lowlevel n00blet ranking barely higher than a scrub. It is also defined as a
computer user lacking computer knowhow which begs the question of how they got on a
computer in the first place.) On the weekends, Brian would pwn n00bs in CounterStrike
by simply pressing the Enter key. That is all he had to do and if someone asked him for
mercy, he simply told them to logout and end his (and in extreme cases: her) for they
could never be able to find the infamous “Any” key many covet so dearly. His hacking
skills would later earn him the codename H4X.
Kyle Varga had a distinct approach to computers that familiarized itself with Brian’s but
had its own eccentricities. Sure he could pwn n00bs really hard and garner up some
spanks, but the question remained on if he could hack the system. He could and did so on
several occasions, earning him the coveted title of SP34R. Kyle would always remain an
integral part of the group, being one of the oldest survivors of the dreaded Woodward
North project.
Quentin Novante retained the coveted title of intelligent hatred. He seemed to look down
on those who had lesser intelligence than others but that is merely a poor writer’s
subjective analysis. He keeps a very cool disposition that lets others know that brains are
indeed moving mountains…of data. He His importance to the group signified the onset of
the changing antisocialite or growing adolescent. He had gone from shy and quiet to
anything but antisocial. He now carried precise measurements of the world within the
small but supremely efficient data drive we call the human brain. He had a certain knack
for mathematics and advanced logic so a career in engineering would be most suitable for
this knowledgeable human being who broke the stereotype that all math geniuses are
reclusive.
Whatever their personality or strengths, these social outcasts were about to prove just how
much of a confounding variable society is.
Rob finished thinking of his friends and their various attributes and focused on why he
had come out here. Was it out of loneliness or despair? He could not tell at this moment.
He just got this feeling that he needed some fresh air. That feeling everyone experiences,
grasping the senses, forcing its victim to drop the walls of safety to drive away the pain of
the intolerable discomfort.
Rob…is something wrong?
“Yeah, there is something wrong! Why do they ask such retarded questions? It is as if
they are imposing their will on me by acting modest! It is enough to sicken me.”
Rob’s shadow began to move apart from its owner. Rob remained oblivious to the antics
of his shadow. Pacing up and down, the shadow followed with a mocking gesture until the
source could ignore it no more.
“What?”
The shadow jumped to the tree and disappeared, just as everything returned to normal.
Rob moved his arm left to which his shadow replied in full.
“I could’ve sworn it just moved differently than I did…am I going nuts?”
“Everyone asks that the first time something breaks their hump of ideologies.”
Rob jumped at the voice, turning left and right. “Who’s there? Hello!”
Michael and Calvin had just turned around to make their way back into the Entertainment
Room.
“Yes it is me, the opposite of life. Do you know who you are?” A quiet voice flew as if it
were the very wind in the air.
“It seems you know me. Mind to explain who you are…besides a bad dream?” Rob
looked left and right over and over, checking the trees, the ground, and even his hand.
“Up here…” The spirit flew, mocking the very person he had come to chat with.
Rob looked up to pinpoint the sound. He saw nothing.
“No wait…over here you fool!” The sounds of footsteps coming up from behind were so
silent; Rob did not have a chance. A knife came to his throat quicker than that year’s tax
returns.
“Whoa…that’s sharp! Wouldn’t want to…um” Rob stuttered, looking down at the newest
addition to his shaving line.
“Shave your throat? Now this is a popular predicament…a mysterious shadow sneaking
up from behind places a knife to a young boy’s throat.” The mysterious shadow said with
a growl.
“I never meant to say...”
“Watch your mouth…!” He slithered over the last part of the word. “Wouldn’t want two
holes to breathe with?” The knife vanished along with the person.
Rob dropped to the ground panting. “No I wouldn’t…but why all the drama. Couldn’t you
have come as a dream?” He needed to wake up.
“But how fun is a dream you have no control over. Spirits love to toy with the mortal
population. It’s like an exclusive club only the dead can join. We have selected you for
various reasons, none of which I can explain right now. Otherwise, there would be no
meat to your life story if I did. It would spoil the mysteries of this universe too quickly
and I must be frank with you; you have not learned all of life’s lessons. Besides, why
would I bother interfering with the muses? They are of a different pen I must admit. Just
be safe and stray away from things that could harm you, like politics.”
“I will once this nightmare is over.”
“You still do not believe what you see?” The spirit changed colors at random intervals
into colors Rob had never seen before.
“It is a little hard for anyone accustomed to living guests to adapt to the deceased.” Rob
stated, finally catching his breath. He felt his adrenaline pounding and felt that eerie and
inescapable force of fear creeping up his spine.
“Not when I have an irrational panic crawling in my body. I know the dream I am having
is forcing me to fear you.”
“oh stop with this dream bullshit! I have had enough with cynical whining. They think
that by criticizingt everything, the world can become a better place. My opinion
however…does not concern the reason I came here to tiptoe around dangerous issues that
should not plague humanity.”
“Could we stop with the tiptoeing please?” Rob closed his eyes, remembering what he
had done to ignore the voices of hate swirling in his mind. Stay calm…focus. Your only
route out of this nightmare is to ignore it and change the subject.
The spirit just began to shake his head in disappointment.
“The best explanation for my theory. You never have conscious thought in a dream.” He
began to laugh, but saw the boy’s willpower. The spirit began to see just how impressive
these people were. He is indeed as impressive as the others if not more. I just don’t
understand why He chose this one in particular.
“Hey Rob…you just might be right. This is all just a dream and I have orchestrated it just
as I had planned. I am your inner beliefs tugging your heart strings, yanking your
emotional power cords. Believe you can end this dream…”
“I know I have the power to end this whenever I want.” Rob smiled, confident in his
position.
“But you may never use it.”
“Yes I can…I have the power of choice.”
“No, you don’t.” He snapped his fingers. The lights faded in Rob’s eyes and he felt
himself floating, as if he had become as light as a feather.
“Do not fear the growing terror
As it begins to grow slightly nearer
To crossing that line slow to remember
I think it’s time to reverse the outward mirror.”
Rob hit the ground and opened his eyes, noticing that he had been surrounded by a void
of white.
“Where…am I?”
“The place few ever look. That undesired location in perception where all of our lives are
recorded and analyzed, only to be swept up under a Persian Rug. This place lies beneath
the rugged outer layer known as your conscious. No, there is no conscious perception here
as it would be too detrimental to the “health” and psychological wellbeing of the average
person. So it is covered by a thick layer of metaphorical glass which is used to reflect that
which we want to see: our ideal self. Why did I bring you down here, you may ask?
Reasons never did make much sense I am afraid. What matters about our trip includes
only the trip and nothing more. You now know how to get down here and can retreat
whenever you are ready to.”
Rob looked around, noting the lack of traffic present. “If this is truly my unconscious,
then why is it so void of life?”
“Good question, faster than the others but I must digress from that point at this time.
Maybe you know the answer?”
“Are you trying reverse psychology?” Rob gestured with a fist. He smiled vaguely.
“Maybe I am; maybe I am not. I do not know whether you can see your unconscious or
not because as you may note, I am not you. So therefore I cannot understand what your
encoding methods are for information…even if they are similar to what used to be mine
own.”
“So you are hinting that telepathy is impossible? I have no idea what you are getting at.
You show up at random to take me to some random place. It makes no sense.”
“Random doesn’t make sense and that is why it works. Leave things to chance and all
loose ends tie themselves up eventually. Logic cannot exist without chaos. Now you see,
Mr. Clark, that the reason I came to you makes no sense for one, has no point to prove for
two, and lacks motive for three. That is how most would view this seemingly irrelevant
meeting of the paths, but those with true vision would know that this had to happen.
Without acquaintances in a human’s life story, no purpose can be derived. What is
purpose without existence? I am just a messenger sent you by our protector to shield you
from unwonted harm. The very spirit that hopes to hop from the one path she knows will
lead her to the goal. Now it cannot jump paths unless the path it desires aligns perfectly
with the one she presently inhabits. This may make no sense to a young child right now
but soon it will make a world of sense, as it is sense that will guide you on the path to
obtaining more sense. Does any of this make sense?” The spirit’s disembodied voice
seemed to be coming from outside the area Rob inhabited.
“About as much sense as it can. By the way, where are you?” He had to know where the
voice was coming from.
“In order to understand how someone thinks on the inside, first you must understand the
person. Backwards logic I may admit but it keeps the dark spirits away from the core of
feral logic. Add logic to chaos and the equation balances itself out, ending the need to
continue pondering the importance of said equation. In other words, add dark to light and
all you will get is a gray area without complete purity, thus negating the whole of
existence.”
“Okay, so you are still outside my body? I could let you in, can’t I?”
“I am afraid not as no one has ever learned to control the door to their unconscious…well
save for one. But his tinkering is of no importance. I am actually in your conscious sector,
relegating the control to conscious movement. Any spirit can infiltrate your outer core as
it is based on a standardized set of laws inherent in all living creatures. It is the
unconscious sector that varies from animal to human. Animals have almost no control
over their feral attitudes, thus making them the target of many an infestation. The purpose
of man was to control these infestations by introducing a controlled, unconscious
environment to combat the dark spirits. It’s all a bunch of divine hushhush but mostly a
key reason man has learned to think for himself. Not being sexist or anything, but women
have always had a tougher time accessing the metaphysical philosophical networks. It’s a
basic design flaw but alas, I talk too much.”
Rob closed his eyes out of boredom, “No, go on. I have time.”
“I now understand why I came here today. It makes sense to me now.
There once was a man from Nantucket…
Wait…wrong one…ah here we go
There existed a being old and wise
Who liked to play with strings and ties
He once out of boredom
Sired a kingdom
With which to tie his shoes
Now the sensible thing to do
When learning to tie a shoe
Is to loop up and over
Until in a clover
‘Cause then you can teach your crew
He then remembered his duty
A promise of a beauty
With which to create a place
And fill it with grace
Some say He called it Eden
He left for a while
To add some more style
To the universe he called home
But when he returned
To find a nerd
Sitting on His throne
Over the creation prone
To naïve acts of inanity
Enraged he cast both creations out
But then experienced selfdoubt
So he aided the creation made out of clay
And added a difference between night and day
So that the servant could rise
Wellrested and wise
And finish the work never started
Years passed by with no progress
This of course made Him very stressed
So He went into the bride
Of the Nazarene pride
To produce a Son of His very own.
His Son became shown
As a decrier of the throne
And the Son was lead to die
…thus the Lord began to cry.
“Do not cry” the Son protested
As those around him detested
The kind acts of mercy bestowed
Upon those looked down upon; Those that were owed
The Son took the irons and shackles of sin.
Threw them up and on his shoulders and skin
When those around him screamed, he raised his chin
And this is where our story comes to an end.
Climbing to the top of the mount
Ending all the sin he could count.
Throwing his eyes to the sky
He saw the great angel in the sky.
Carrying the key to cross between worlds
Hammers and stakes made men cry like girls
Bowing before this tempestuous man
Who had bowed before mere servants like a watering can.
Acknowledging that the end was near
Men bowed before their God out of fear.
“Do not fear the wrath of the Lord”
This man said with grace
“As those who are without sin shall see his face”
“May those of goodwill never be tired or bored.”
For he knew they could take shelter in the arms of the Lord
“And this is the whole reason I have come to you today. To add to the reasons we must
stay alive in this world of toil and trouble. To make sure that the bread of the Lord will
never bubble.”
“Wouldn’t want His bread to bubble, that is a definite. Then he might get a yeast
infection.”
A silence was incurred after hearing this intelligent but extraneous humor.
“Take that back…that was not funny at all. Please, take it back before I slap you to death.
I come here, tell you about the purpose to your life, and then am shot in the back with the
“slings and arrows of outrageous” humor. It was amusing…but pointless. Now you will
always remember what I said as you have heard it while entranced into your unconscious.
Thus most of what we have said will remain in permanent memory. Now you see why I
have come here tonight. I am a messenger sent to keep you away from any sort of
dangerous decisions you might make. Your future depends on the choices present. Do not
disappoint us Mr. Robert Wesley Clark.”
<Snap> And thus the lights in Rob’s head faded back to black, arousing the subject back
into a conscious sleep. He opened his eyes once again to see the night sky, covered in the
pearl necklace of stars.
He looked to his left and right, noticing that he had somehow moved twenty feet from
where he had been earlier. He now rested in a chaise lounge sitting on his friend Calvin’s
pool deck.
“What the hell was that?” He began to doubt what had just transpired when a voice
whispered in the wind.
“Remember…”
“Remember…”
“Remember…”
Casting the first rock
As Rob lay on the damp chaise lounge outside in the dreary weather, the others patiently
sat through one of Michael’s single player games, which just so happened to be DMC3.
He was going for no continues and no item usage in order to gain an SS ranking. Michael
was currently fighting Nevan, owning really hard and stuff. So about half an hour went by
before Calvin got up to stretch.
“I’m going to find Rob. He’s probably found something to do and I want to see what he is
up to.”
“See ya.” Michael quickly called out as he jammed the controller with his fingers,
maneuvering Dante around the screen.
Calvin went outside, as he had not heard Rob come inside.
“Hello! Rob!” Calvin called out, looking around for his lonely friend. Only a quiet
chirping could be heard. Calvin knew his mother was quieting down the birds.
Moving his head to the right, he saw what appeared to be a man standing in the trees but
he couldn’t tell for the shadow disappeared.
The figure seen before sped away to his getaway, “I’ll be watching you friend. Your value
as of now remains penniless but soon the modest shall inherit the earth.”
Calvin could have sworn a voice was lingereing in the wind as he carefully hopped down
onto the stairwell to the pool where he found Rob asleep.
“There you are.” Calvin sighed quickly as he approached his friend and sat down in the
chair across.
“Rob? You want some dessert or something? Salsa and chips?” He poked him slowly
although not too hard or too suddenly for he wouldn’t want to bother his sleeping guest.
“Rob? Are you awake?”
Rob had been slowly drifting out of sleep at the first calling of his name and lay fully
aroused by the time Calvin had reached him.
“I’m awake… “ The brunette motioned with his hands.
“Why are you all the way out here? Something bothering you?” A little small talk never
hurt anyone.
“Yup.” Nonchalantly piped the strange boy.
“Do you want to talk about it? Just asking…” Calvin meant no offense, just curiosity.
“Why not…I meet a crazy old warhorse who lives in the mountains of Tennessee and am
pointed to a politically driven exspecial forces man who now works a mercenary group
for hire. Thanks to this man, I intern at one of this country’s most prospective newsgroups
only to be removed from that job to join the mercenary group. I think I am a bit
overwhelmed.”
Calvin had talked to Rob on and off about the BOULDER group out in Colorado.
“I understand. Still not going to tell me about that old man are you?” Calvin touched upon
a subject long pressed upon. Over the summer, David and Anand traveled to a national
Halo Tournament on the outskirts of Washington, DC along with Rob. Their main goal
was to have a good time and score some kills but once in the competition, they met a
strange old man most call a “recruiter”. They stalk through the various forms of hobbies
present in youth culture in the hopes of singling out future employees. That, of course, is
the story David, Anand, and Rob had given Calvin. By finding people with strong,
charismatic personalities, companies and the military create a backlog of potential
soldiers and pencilpushers. Now be reminded that this hiring strategy remains highly
speculative and pRobably only accounts for 34% of actual recruiting.
“Sorry, not this time. I made a promise to the boss.” Rob smiled his goofy smile.
Calvin sat down and looked Rob square in the eye, “Today’s prison break was no
coincidence, was it?”
“Now why would you ask me that? Am I the Senior Prison Break Analyst?” Rob shook
his head slightly.
“Novante keeps going on and on about how you and David are in cahoots together.
Anywho, you ready to go up stairs and maybe watch The Punisher?” Calvin had been a
fan of the recent low budget film starring Thomas Jane and had continued to beg Rob to
watch it.
“Noooooooo! Never would I watch the Punisher! It…it…it…”
“What?” Calvin and Rob both began to laugh. “Does it suck?” Calvin asked.
“Yes, of course it does.” Rob answered Calvin.
“Have you seen it?” Calvin quit laughing and Rob did as well. A kind of ambient silence
permeated the air, joining the mystical crickets.
“…No, not really. Just parts of it.” Rob answered Calvin once again.
Calvin shot back, “Then how about judging a movie by its content, not its trailer.”
“Well we all know that the trailer for the Punisher is parked right in front of the Razzies.
And it also got bad ratings.”
“Ratings, Rob, are the subjective analysis of another subjective work. Therefore, reviews
by one person are for oneretarded; and they also do not completely explain a balanced
opinion. If a reviewer didn’t like the film, the review will reflect that. It will hardly ever
tell you everything about the film. That is why I am my own critic. I try to find the good
things about a movie before the bad. Anywho, I asked if you wanted to go up and watch
the Punisher. Novante and Michael both want to see it and I was wondering if maybe you
might want to as well?”
“Sure, why not? You got me Calvin. You got me. I’ll watch the Punisher.” Rob just flat
out said what he didn’t want to say.
“Well, finally we give in? I knew you wanted to see it.” Calvin turned to head out and
signaled for Rob to follow. “I’ll see you upstairs.” He walked up and out of sight.
“The things I commit to in order to spend time with my friends. It’s almost tragic…”
<MGS:TTS_Mantis Theme>
He walked by the gate heading out of the pool area when the strange spirit appeared
again, hanging upside down.
“Not man enough to say goodbye?” He cackled quietly.
Rob continued walking, “Get out of my head…”
Requiem for a Dream
The four sat down to watch the Punisher but only Calvin, Michael, and Novante watched
it all as Rob dozed off about half an hour into the film.
He had been through another tough week, frustrations continuing to build up to a point
where he could barely take any more. He needed the rest truly.
After the movie ended, they all retired to the comfy couches in the room sittng adjacent to
the Entertainment room. It was a spacious room, occupying an area of about 20’ by 30’.
There was even room for an antique jukebox in the corner.
Rob took an egg crate and lay it near the back of one of the couches along with Calvin.
“Fear the eggcrate of death…” He always would say when preparing for sleep.
They all dropped their awareness levels and retreated into the most basic of regeneration.
Each of them had separate dreaming experiences but it is one in particular that we are
interested in.
Calvin always had a creative mind and it would be tonight that the creativity would
increase tenfold.
In the dream, he began walking up a dark mountainside filled with white, virgin powder.
He continued to march up to the peak and stopped when he reached a small cottage on the
eastern slope. Sighs and screams could be heard in the background, some pleasurable and
the others painful. He walked past the threshold and into the warmly lit home. There were
a couple couches made out of deerskin and a mahogany table stacked with books located
in the middle near the fireplace. To his right lie a hallway, long and covered in trophies
and awards. He looked out the window nearby to see a giant collection of tanks and
aircraft waging a giant battle. He headed towards the hall to see three doors. He walked to
the first one and opened it, noticing the number one labeled in the middle.
His perspective took on a comicbook view where the figures were silhouetted against a
white backdrop, their bodies mingling and caressing while enjoying the uncivilized
passion of lust. He turned around and walked out of the door, noting the change of the
number from 1 to Shame. He then turned to see the two other doors, marked two and
three respectively. He closed the door to Shame and moved onto door number two,
hesitating to open it before turning the knob. What he saw as he opened the door
confused him. As he opened it, the word Pride appeared to replace the number two and
did so once he opened the door all the way. He then cocked his head to witness a Mexican
standoff between two women and three men. The faces of these people were blackened
out by some unknown force and could not be differentiated as to their personalities. The
women both held pistols but one distinctly held a knife in her other hand in a normal grip,
the blade resting on the neck of the man next to her who also held a longer, simpler blade.
He seemed to be the most agile of the group and held what appeared to be a Katana. This
man had another sword resting on the shoulder of the man pointing an elongated barrel
straight at his face. The possessor of the longbarreled rifle seemed to be the most
insecure as he had nothing to protect his other side, which was being targeted by a thinner
man carrying nothing more than two abnormally small knives that were oddly shaped.
These knives seemed to be in the shape of the letter P. His neck had a Beretta pointed at it
and this gun belonged to the other woman. She had pulled the pin of an oldfashioned
grenade and was now holding the lever in place. It was aimed at the face of the first
woman. Calvin turned to run and dived outside the door before slamming it shut behind
him. He didn’t know why her ran but he just did. The last door had already changed its
label to Agony, indicating a depressing scene.
He walked in without questioning its contents and saw a TV screen with Rob sitting in
front of it. He was fighting Vamp in Sons of Liberty during the part where he takes
Emma hostage. He just sits there and waits for Emma’s health to drain before she dies.
The cinema plays where Emma is stabbed by Vamp and that is when Rob stands up and
walks over to Calvin, forcing him out the door.
“You’ve seen enough.” He scowls as the door slams shut. A small and fragile voice is
heard coming from the other side, as if it were speaking its last words.
“You were there for me when there was no need to. Thank you…thank you for giving me
a chance.”
The sun rose and Calvin began to walk down the mountain, tears streaming down his
face. He didn’t quite understand the range of emotions he felt but the understanding was
real.
As he reached the bottom, he saw two people standing at a grave in full military garb.
Both saluted to a gun salute but then faded with the snow flying past.
“There was a love saved April…and a love lost.” These were the last words he heard
before he slowly regained consciousness, the rising, luminous star lighting the room with
a cascading glow.
“Morning! You must have had some dream. You woke us all up.”
Michael walked out of the bathroom and walked past Calvin, heading for the couch he
had slept on.
“Oh sorry. It was rather vivid.” He stretched his legs as he stood up but felt the painful
recourse as his head throbbed. “Owww!” He rubbed his head and as he did, he just
happened to peer outside and past the windows to see a strange looking figure flowing in
the leaves. It jumped and then disappeared, resembling a smoke cloud as it moved.
“Something wrong?” Michael asked as Novante traveled back down the stairs.
“Oh hi Calvin. Your mom wondered why you weren’t up begging for pancakes.”
“I just had a crazy dream and now my head hurts for some reason. Where’s Rob.”
“He left already and apologized for not saying goodbye but he had to be somewhere.”
He looked at the clock above the jukebox, “It’s only 11:00? What time did he leave?”
“He left just as your dream woke us all up. Whatever you saw, it freaked you out.”
Novante added.
“Yeah and it freaked us out too. We heard you groaning and then saw Rob walking up the
stairs, keys in hand. We thought that he had maybe stepped on you by accident or
something. But then you did it again about a minute later. That was about the last time we
heard from you. Me and Novante have just been smashing through DMC3 since then.”
“Do you all want some pancakes then?” Calvin began to head for the stairs leading to the
second and main floor.
“Sure why not. I’m up for that.” Michael pronounced with glee.
“Well then it is settled. Chocolate chip pancakes it is.” Calvin headed up the stairs to
deliver the order for breakfast. He found a mysterious not from Rob laying on the island
stove.
Went away to form a Rock Solid personality. Save me some Congan Squares. Don’t dare
find me in the jungles of the world. Sincerely, Wesley.
“I’d like to stay and taste my first champagne”
Saturday, April 16, 2005: Livingston Residence @ 9:30 AM
Rob walked out towards his car, keys in hand. “Thanks for everything Calvin. Everything
that you have done for me could never be repaid. May our paths cross again sometime in
the near future. In fact, I know they will.” He turned and opened his car door, hopping
inside. “Time for the snake to shed his skin indeed.” He booted up his iPod and tuned his
stereo to the Tape setting. He then drove back to Christ the King where David and Bergan
awaited. Upon arriving, Kenneth walked up to his car.
Rob rolled the window down, “What do you need?”
Kenneth seemed a bit startled and jumpy, “Back your car up to the side door, we’ve got a
slight problem.”
“What’s wrong?” Rob asked.
“The German Patient has taken a turn for the worse and we need to get him professional
attention immediately. I’m no surgeon and of course this infuriates Bergan.” Rob noticed
the subtle rhyme and assumed that Kenneth understood language.
Rob backed up and jumped out of his car, throwing open the back door to his trunk.
Beragan came out with David on his back in the fireman’s carry position. Bergan dropped
David in the trunk along with blankets. He then grabbed Rob’s chin and stared him in the
eye, “Could you hold onto David while I borrow your car?”
“Sure…by all means sir.” Rob kindly bowed to Bergan’s will. Kenneth hopped in the mid
seats with his medkit and Rob hopped into the back. The car then sped off to an
undisclosed location where David received the confidential attention he needed.
Thus were the BOULDER recruits ready for a journey across continents.
BOOK IV: State of the Union (Not XXX)
If only I had known the consequences of my delusions, it would have saved millions. I
remember the African Incident as though it were a warm spring day. A warm spring day
that lacked all the usual merits. It was a warm spring day without happiness. What I
perceived as evolution actually ended up being a revolution. A revolution against all that
man has claimed and developed. It was a revolution that sought to not only throw men
and women into the past through social degradation, but through physical and emotional
devastation. Spare nothing…that was our duty. For sparing a life only eroded away our
loyalty to the Major. It was a decision long regretted. It was, and still is, a road to a
destructive future.
Pride—taken from the eventual interview taken after the Atrocious War (War of
Attrition)
Livingston Residence, Saturday April 23, 2005 @ 10:00 AM
Calvin heard the doorbell ring the familiar Westminster tune. His feet carried him the
several hundred imperial units up the stairs and to the foyer. Standing on the other side
was April Holt, his girlfriend.
He answered the door and invited her in.
“Hello, Calvin.”
“How was the drive?” Calvin asked.
“It was dreary but worth it. No matter how many times I visit your house, the neighbor
never ceases to amaze me. There are so many beautiful homes here.” She walked inside
with her bag that had a few provisions. She would be staying the night here and needed
the essentials.
“So what are we up to?” She asked.
“Just playing the Twin Snakes. You remember of course.”
How could she have forgotten? “Yeah, it’s the one with the cursing main character. His
favorite word is damn. I know Calvin. You fail to remember how many damn times you
and Rob talk about it when he is over. It is almost an incessant annoyance.”
“What? Never mind the Metal Gear then. We’ll start our project.”
They had an English project due and had decided to work together. It was going to be a
long day that Calvin would never forget. Tension was in the air and soon it would be cut
with two pair of scissors, a piece of cardboard folded into three sides for presentation, and
some colorful artwork both from Calvin’s quick hands and an even quicker computer
printer.
“Yes. Starting it would be a great idea.” April looked passively at Calvin as he shut the
door and locked it.
“Do you always lock the front door during the day?” She asked a question that had been
bugging her.
“Yes.” Calvin simplified his answer.
“Don’t you live in a gated community?” April pressed on.
“Yes.” Calvin kept his answer simple.
“Why?” April joined the OneWord Answer Club.
“Nada mucho.” Calvin expressed his awesome ability to be a cunning linguist. He enjoyed
using the Spanish tongue.
“About the project?” April changed the subject.
“What about it? Is there a problem?” Calvin asked.
“Since you have no driver’s license to drive to my house, I was hoping that the home
advantage had given you time to make a few drawings for our display?”
“I am sorry April about the driving. I am sorry that you have to stay here overnight
because we are spending the whole day working on the project.”
April interrupted Calvin. “Oh I don’t mind those. Staying at your house is never an
inconvenience. Plus, you are fun to spend time with. You are very intelligent and
endearing, a strange correlation.”
“Who said that intelligence and being cute aren’t mutually exclusive?” Calvin piped up
with an almost angry sarcasm.
“Not me. I just find your type of intelligence lovable. You don’t go out of your way to
express knowledge. It seems as if you only talk when necessary.”
“I have never kept silent around you unless we were watching a movie. With you, my
words are always necessary.”
April gasped inside. She hated this guilty feeling she got. She decided that after today, she
would either tell Calvin the truth about her reunification with Alex or break away from
Alex. She could not be in love with two people. It would drive her insane.
“I meant that my words are always necessary around others, including you.” Calvin did
not want to overtly express his interest in April. They had 12 hours to work together and
did not need more tension than was already apparent. April sighed, knowing full well that
Calvin was too simple to hide his emotions.
“Let’s see how the day goes Calvin. Thank you for your compliment though.” April put
Calvin’s words into the long list of good things about him.
“You are welcome I guess.” Calvin was bit naïve. He had no idea what he just said.
They walked upstairs to his room where the materials were sitting on his bed.
David and Rob sat in the back of a limo chatting about the recent additions to the video
game market. Bergan scored a few words in the crossword he was looking over. Kenneth
was driving.
“So do either of you have plans for education?” Bergan asked.
“I was thinking maybe Journalism or an English major.” Rob responded.
“I would have done graphic design if I had not murdered those people.” David sighed. He
had begun to regret his transgression last November. The images of the dead were all that
remained. Images have a nasty habit of speaking the truth.
Calvin set the placemats down as he always did with company. April watched him
intently, as if his every move were well choreographed. He moved so gracefully. He
seemed to have no fault. Calvin, whatever he was on the inside, lacked the fallacies of
many men. His shared intonations with her had resonated in her conscience. His touch
seemed pure and light. She remembered two years ago. She remembered the soft hands
on her chest. She remembered his honor. How he had graciously turned her sexuality back
at her. She had felt repulsed at first. Now she felt distant, cool, and calm. She had grown
up since Sophomore year. But there was one thing that had not changed since that night.
She felt a lust for him that seemed to burn very weakly. But this candle never lost its light
or strength. It would always intensify, but never weaken. With Alex, her emotions were
always a landslide. Her feelings would climb and then fall with her perceptions of
pleasure. Calvin seemed to emanate radiant energy without the need for sustenance. His
creativity drove him to newer heights every moment. She began to see why Calvin feared
Rob so. They were the same in their energies. The only difference, were their
perspectives, and even perspective shared a common ground. Rob would never suffer the
abominations of defeat, unless it were from Calvin himself. David had started to unravel
these four lives. First there was his own, then there was Rob’s, followed by Calvin’s. But
hers was the most aff3ected. Before David and Calvin, she did not see the universe but
only the world. These four guys saw beyond the Cartesian plane they were stuck in.
Calvin served her a turkey sandwich, driving her thoughts back inward. But it seems that
with his smile, Calvin transferred some of his energy unto her.
They chatted, at great length, about the Country Club and its nuances. The story about the
bees in the front yard, a tale of the first home movie, the first heart break, and ultimately,
the story of where everyone had come from. Jacob, Carson, and Michael first met Calvin
in the early days of schooling. Their meeting was more elementary than rudimentary. Rob
and David were from 8th and 9th grades onward. The others followed suit. She was most
intrigued at how much he cared for his friends, even if they were mostly a sack of nuts.
After a bit, April noticed the time on the wall as it rang the half hour. Calvin chuckled at
remembering the times Rob had threatened that clock and its avian noises.
“Well, this project won’t do itself.” Calvin stood up to clear his plate. He realized the sick
pun Rob would be laughing at as of this moment. He shook his head and laughed out
loud.
“What’s so funny?” April wanted to see how splinters in the woodworks of the mind
revealed how sharp a moment in time could cut the silence.
“You’ll find out some day, if Rob ever returns to us.”
“He does have a tendency to forget us.” April laughed.
“Tendency…no. I think it is more of a detached nature. But it is in no way a cold
detachment. But enough talk about him. Plate?” He held out his hand for her plate. She
handed it to him. He ran it through the sink sparingly splashing water. He then placed it
in the dishwasher.
“Shall we get to work?” Calvin walked around the banister to the bottom stair. He
remembered the grenade fall he and his friends had filmed here. He began to miss being
younger. He looked into her eyes just then. She met him there, in this void of oblivion.
Immediately, his loss of youth seemed all that more pedantic. He would trade every year
on his tombstone for just a moment to talk to her.
David rubbed his nose as it itched in the damp car. The rain outside seemed to be
affecting his breathing. He could almost taste the mold and it was no cheese.
Rob asked out loud. “Why are people out there so intent on distancing themselves from
others? They wear the same styles and yet beg for individuality. Is it not a bit
hypocritical?”
Bergan had nothing better to do than argue along. “People will always be cognitively
dissonant. They require leadership because they have given up their capacity to be a
shepherd. They are the sheep to be protected and guided. We are the light Rob. We show
the sheep the way to eternal grace. What we lack though, is our ability be submissive. It is
this pride that blinds us. No matter what you become, never give into your pride. Pride
yourself on your pride and you will be free from both humility and conceit.”
“So they are hypocritical out of pride?” David tried to analyze.
“Exactly. What they understand is that they are special. But this false belief is true and
false at the same time. To make it true requires more information. Individuals are special
in groups alone. I’ll leave the interpretation of that to you. I only ask for you to follow the
way and not me. I am as fallible as you.” Bergan returned his gaze to the sidewalks.
“So David? Are we special?”
“Rob…if we were special, would we be on our way out of this country?”
“Touche…” Rob shut his mouth.
David would learn, sooner than Rob, that when liberalism hits full force, the individual no
longer thinks in terms of groups. The move to individualism is dangerous in and of itself.
There is no sense of community when liberalism is in the majority. Groups are but mere
obstacles to individual glory. The problem is that glory is community based. No man has
the right to obtain glory by himself, but they had no idea of this fallacy.
The irony in their present situation proved very true indeed as their car pulled into the UN
HQ.
Vanessa walked up behind Hagan threw her arms around her husband. “So are we ready?”
“If only Bergan had known about that old adage. Our present situation would have made
sense to him.”
“Behind every great man…” She smiled. Hagan turned to kiss her. He said in between
kisses. “…is a fucking beautiful woman.”
“Not now. I’m tired from last night.” Vanessa let go and checked the weather.
“How is that front moving?”
“Not very well Charles. We are not going to have the cover of clouds to hide our dirty
little secret.”
“Hawks can blend in with the sun if they wanted to. They want a war, here’s their chance
for publicity.”
“Don’t be so mean…they have good intentions.” Vanessa added that brief hint of sarcasm.
“Good intentions for the military industrial complex.” A small noise came from the
background.
“Outlook…look’s like I’ve got mail.” Hagan trudged across to his laptop.
Vanessa continued studying the weather maps. “Looks like Bergan is getting rained on.”
“That is a definite. He just confirmed his arrival at the UN. That will give me six hours to
talk to the president of this wonderful country after Bergan begins his transatlantic
journey.”
“The storms in New York will be lasting for another few hours.” Vanessa seemed
intrigued to know that Bergan would leave New York without seeing it through the
beautiful glare of the dying sun. She hated the man.
\
The seeds of love and war
Silence. All that one could hear was the droning of the electricity and air. The house was
quiet. His mother and sister would not be back until late in the afternoon. Calvin’s father
had work at the hospital and his office until the wee hours of the morning. He loved his
family.
April was finishing her typewritten portion while Calvin finished stroking his pen across
the poster board. His elaborate art was very gentle and forgiving to the subjects of
inspiration.
Vanessa left the weather screen alone and walked out of the room.
“I’m going to check on the trains. Set the plans.” She waved.
“Love…” Hagan called out.
“Forever.” She exasperated.
Hagan returned his eyes to the screen before him. Piquard had just emailed him. He read
the brief and then filed it away in a folder in Outlook. Finding nothing else to accomplish
on his computer, Hagan shut the lid and walked away.
April stopped typing and just gazed at her work. She felt content to know that tonight she
would sleep soundly. She felt content knowing that as she slept, the daunting mental
creature that is a project will have faded away into obscurity. This kid, her boyfriend, had
no limits to his might. She had talked to Alex about it, who then referred her to Rob. Rob
was blooming as an existentialist. Rob had explained quite quickly…
“There is only one type of person April. Do not let others separate humans. This person
has a set of predetermined choices. The making of choices is what separates people. In
my book, there are three types of choices: choices of desire, choices of emotion, and
choices of logic. But logic is the only one that is different from the others. Logic itself
would seem to be the best choice of action but it isn’t. The choice of emotion is the path
of righteousness. Your emotions will guide you to the truth. Emotions should not be
confused with desires. Desires are dark emotions. Desires only reveal dark and hidden
truths. Emotion will reveal only what is lit. When you feel something in the pit of your
stomach, react. No amount of logic and reason will ever amount to the truth in one’s
feelings. Choices of logic and reason are fallible because they analyze objectively. Life is
not objective though, you see. Life is vibrant and alive and has its own subjective
interpretation of itself. Life tells you how it is. Listen to life and not to logic. Listen to the
reason in your heart.”
She understood what he was alluding to. April knew Rob had very little respect for Alex.
He was pointing her to Calvin.
She looked inwards and asked that question. Her heart seemed to understand. She felt she
needed to know. But she was afraid to ask. She was afraid the change would only play out
perfectly in her thoughts. Her heart saddened, and the question was lost.
Calvin dropped his pencil and noted the quiet and stillness. “Taking a break?”
“…” She was quiet.
“I don’t mean to pry…do you want to relax or eat or drink?”
April held back a tear. He was such a gentleman. “I’m just thinking.”
“Okay. Don’t think too hard about it.”
“You’re not going to ask me about my thoughts?” She felt a bit angry with this. She
wanted to pour her heart out to him.
He caught her heart in his hands. “I noticed the strain in your voice April. I did not want
to pry. Sometimes things should be left unsaid. The words we keep to ourselves define
who we are.”
“That was touching. Did you make that up?” She loved his every moment.
“No. I learned it…from a friend.”
“Rob?”
“Yes.”
“You two are close. Aren’t you?” April hated how he seemed to align himself more with
his friends than her. Calvin began though the process of switching polarities.
“We are close in spirit yes. We can never be as close as I can be to you, though.” He
paused, realizing full well the unfiltered intentions in his phrase. April about fell out of
her chair.
Calvin stuttered and then let himself go. He needed no more restraint. He dropped his
torch and shared it with the rest of mankind.
“I have learned many things from our time together. I have learned the sexual aspects of
life, if only a little. I have learned the intrigue in discussing two points of view. I have
even learned to stand up for those you love. I have all of these feelings and want to
experience them but know that I must restrain myself. The mixed messages of society
have no sympathy for my own ideas. I am in love…I know it. Sometimes, I feel as if the
weight of the world is suffocating me.” He stopped but decided he had already dropped
the cat and the bag. “I have only one source of respite, you. The inside of my core yells at
me that there is a connection between us.”
He learned just then how he could stand for his ideals of purity while still expressing his
sensual attitude. “I want to act like an animal and just take you right here and right now.
But what good comes from that? All I have accomplished is the pithy and uncivilized
destruction of a pure emotion. I don’t want our friendship to die but I do not wish to
destroy the sensuality. That would be disastrous. Sensuality is the language of women. I
admit defeat. I have no walls left to stop me from obtaining the “prize”. But there is one
tiny hurdle left that spans the entirety of my being. It will not budge no matter how hard I
push it. That line is the distance between my animal and my intellect. It is a line I have
ignored and by doing so caused confusion among us. I want you April. I get the looks of
secrecy and the quiet heaves of your chest. I understand the predicament of morality. But
we mustn’t give into behavior. I am a man. But that does not mean I should be
preoccupied with bedding anyone. That is as deplorable as killing a man. What I want is
to know who you are. I want to talk to you and understand your ideas. I want to be able to
finish your sentences, dot your I’s, and spread knowledge among our relationship. But I
cannot do that if the constant sexual tension the hormones indulge us is insisting on
kicking me to fuck you…pardon my French.” April had joined him on the floor. She was
staring at him. He had just torn himself down, found who he was, and had rebuilt himself
without ever losing a brick. He was a master mortar. She put her hand on his and dropped
it, her desires.
“You’ve made me drop it. I had no idea how easy it was.”
“Drop what?” Calvin and her eyes met. She moved in and the lips met for just a brief
second as their eyes closed.. She then pulled away gently. They opened their eyes, noses
existing not more than a centimeter apart.
April whispered, “This…feeling of desire.”
“Good.” Calvin looked around dazed. “I was beginning to wonder how much more I
should say.”
“You’ve cleared it all up. No more of this nonsense. Let’s get this project finished.”
Calvin smiled. “You’re stronger than before.”
“You noticed.” April stood back up and found her chair. She began typing away, filled
with a new feeling. The curtain of iron and lust had been lifted. Her sexuality was in
check. Her desires were no more.
UN Headquarters: High Noon
Rob polished off the fingerprints on his new BOULDER badge. The artificial light inside
provided a strange contrast to the stormy weather plaguing the New York City area. It
seemed to be the worst collection of storms in years. Rain fell like bullets in a Hong Kong
action film. It was a day to stay at home and visit with the kids. But unfortunately,
civilization has learned to ignore such “petty” weather impediments and request the
presence of all employed persons. Work had to be done to make money.
“Ah…the fine glean of a new badge. I missed the sight.” Bergan stood up as Lee Jones
walked in. Jones’ comment on the badge was ignored.
“Brock! It is a pleasure to see you once again my friend.” He walked briskly, hand
outstretched. He was grinning like an idiot.
“Seeing your bliss again warms my heart. How is Bethany? She still the fox I always
remembered or has she traded in her looks for wisdom?” Bergan shook hands with his
former comrade.
“I forgot your commanding presence. Bethany is definitely keeping in touch with her
inner beauty and I must say that the shell remains as colorful as ever. Are you here for
labor or leisure?” Jones motioned with his arm towards the office.
“Your alliterating operating routine continues a venue of value that may seem stray today.
But that may just be what I say and it should allay no dismay of your “personalitay”. But
alas, I pray if I may stay and congregate with the graying man whose name starts with J.”
Bergan smirked.
“Well my friend, it appears that the military has not made a fool of you like it does so
many others. That “same” brilliance commands respect.” Rob and David gathered that the
two men had some sort of a history together or that the both of them just naturally talked
like V in that Wachowski movie.
Bergan put on a serious face.
“Respect has gained in strength among my group. Opportunity has knocked and I am
pained to say that the Agony has died away.”
David smiled a knowing smile and looked at Rob. I wonder yet if he knows of the
legendary COBRAS. Probably not too informed as I recognize his ridiculous face of
ignorance. Poor man hates ignorance yet feigns it when confronted with information
contrary to his position. What a fucking moron!
Rob gave David a glance and noticed the retarded smirk adorning his face. What’s so
funny to him? I know they must be speaking in code, as their sentence would make no
sense unless it was a metaphor.
David remembered what Eddie had told him before he packed up for Atlanta: “A code is a
substitution of privatized information necessitating the use of metaphors to mask the true
intentions of those speaking in secret. Codes are for two things. The less fashionable use
is for revolution.”
David had replied, “And the other?”
Eddie intoned his ageless wisdom. “The other is far more commercial in nature. The
other, more popular use is reserved for those wishing to commit to mutiny.”
David returned to the present. He had to know whether or not this code held the credo
“vive le revolucion!” with respect.
“Come into my office and I shall give my attention to what may be worrying you. I’ll
have Gregory tour the boys around the building. I’m sure Mr. Annan wouldn’t mind that.”
Jones analyzed the two boys, wondering what Bergan’s wet mind had dreamt of this time.
Ambassador Gregory Piquard walked out of his office and looked at Bergan. “Didn’t
expect to see you here until the Africa problem was settled.” He looked over the two boys
again and recognized the sniper. “Time and time again Bergan, you amaze me at how
contradictory your recruiting policies end up being. I guess you just couldn’t wait until
you sprung him from prison?” He gestured towards David. “Bush called this morning and
asked that I turn a blind eye towards any “recent juvenile escapees”. I see what he meant.”
“Raymond won’t harm anyone. His killer instinct no longer aims towards worthless
adolescents. He now has higher ambitions.” Bergan used David’ middle name as a cover.
“He better not venture out too far as many in this building would not take kindly to this
abuse of power. They can understand the embezzlement of money to a rogue state but
harboring a US fugitive won’t exactly play well in court. Take both of them to the DRC’s
office and leave them there. They are not to move until I come for them. We will make
them IDs and distribute a passport. I will deliver them there and then I will come back
here. You and Jones discuss whatever you need to without my presence and once I return,
we can settle down to business.” Jones said to Ambassador Piquard.
“Sounds good Jones.” Bergan started with the pleasantries in front of the outsider. He
pointed once again to Jones’ office, “Into my office, if we may?”
“Your office?” Jones said. Piqaurd shot him a disgusted look. The door shut and Gregory
Piquard escorted David Raymond and Wesley Clark to the DRC ambassador’s office.
The Key to Foreign Relations
While Piquard walked the two recruits to another office, Bergan and Jones sat down and
Jones pulled out a cigar.
“John Charles Hagan is enlisted by the COBRAS but defects to the Soviet Union. He then
defects to the United States. He then comes to kill you and reap the title of lead COBRA.
Instead of killing him, you rehire him with the malicious intent of teaching a lesson. Only
with this history am I able to clearly fathom the ludicrously boorish act of busting a man
charged with the multiple confessed murders of several peers from his fair and just
punishment of the law to murder more people? Are you insane? I am hearing rumors
from many reputable sources that undermine my respect for you Brock.”
“You have sold us out to the decadent society of the Western Republic.” Bergan said with
a bit of doubt. He expected Jones’ response.
“And so have you. We are at a crossroads Michael.” Bergan hated that name. Not so much
that it was his first name but that it was too prevalent in society. He did not want to be just
another “Michael”. He wanted to be a Brock.
Jones handed Bergan a cigar. “We’ll drop the argument under the notion that neither of us
have grounds to criticize the other.”
Bergan reached into his pocket making sure to spend ample time fishing for his lighter.
He put the cigar in his mouth. “Alright then, we’ll call it a draw.”
“Agreed.” Jones hated how Bergan was using his hospitality as an advantage. Bergan was
spiting Jones with his own cigar.
“So, have the negotiations been made?” Bergan sucked on the cigar, wetting the rolled
paper up as he pulled his lighter out of his pocket. “Yes, the DRC has graciously accepted
your donation to their country and allows you complete ownership of that Soviet
installation.” Jones watched his old friend’s eyes light up like a child just receiving his
first GI Joe.
“Excellent.” Bergan lit his cigar and purred as the dry feeling filled his lungs. “I’ve
missed the taste of progress.”
Jones sighed, “Oh come on Michael, you always were the grisly one. Nothing could keep
you entertained unless it had a serial number and a trigger.”
“Fifteen years as a HighProfile Detective only to be dropped to leader of a miserly
SWAT team. Can you understand what it is like to have your specialties ignored? A man
can only put up with politics so much. He then soon tires of the parlor tricks used by so
many of our nation’s lawmakers.”
Jones remembered the Bergan of years’ past, “You never did like politicians, but then you
went to work for them? What of that? Why turn to contracting and mercenary work?”
Jones never did trust a mercenary because they were too vicious.
“I just learned to never trust anyone who couldn’t abide by the very laws they vote for.
The American people have begun to see the corruption inherent in the system and
understand that scandals don’t happen every three or four terms and that they occur every
time a president changes. No politician be it executive, judiciary, or legislative can ever
escape the lures and temptations of dirty money. That is what a political campaign is: a
way to clean a man or woman up for the mud bath that is American politics. It is only a
matter of time before someone turns that mud bath into a bloodbath.” Bergan finished
with a sick feeling in his throat so he set down the cigar. “Now look what I’ve gone and
done. I’ve angered myself and now this cigar tastes horrible. I know now why I quit
smoking even if it was for my greater health.”
Jones thought for a moment before responding and then opened his mouth in quiet
respect. “Michael, in all respect, I feel as if that you were moving into Africa for political
reasons.”
<Max Payne Theme…Max Payne 2>
“First rule of the military: Know thyself. Rule two: Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious.
If these happen to be true, then I believe all Americans to be vicious. Whether they are
passiveaggressive or just aggressive depends on the person. The term “vicious” doesn’t
entirely denote an animalistic nature; only focused aggression. And since aggression can
be peaceful, if only to a point, a famous playwright bas been proven to be correct while
still maintaining my point of view. I’m not a brilliant man like Einstein but it doesn’t take
intelligence to see that the path our country lumbers on is no longer the safe route. The
communities of the world have finally accepted democracy and it is up to us to raise the
bar. If the inspiring republican nation of the West cannot live up to its own ideals, I fear
we may follow in the Roman footsteps paved so long ago. America’s position as a leader
is crumbling and now we must show the perfection that is our stars and stripes. We’ve
both lived through political fallouts and if they have taught us anything, it is that the must
be pure of heart to survive. Nixon, Carter, Reagan, Bush number 1, Clinton, and now
Bush number 2 all have proven that by feigning ignorance, popularity can dwindle until
you accept responsibility as a man…” He turned his head to the left, “and as Commander
inChief of our honorable armed forces. You’ll notice a trend Lee if you analyze the last
few presidents and their terms. Carter had Camp David and the Black Hawk disaster;
Reagan had unemployment caused by Carter and also had to deal with the collapse of the
Russian Empire; Bush the senior had the Iranian affair to clean up and then dealt with
that crazy Iraqi; then we have Clinton and his afterhours hobbies. Today’s president has
problems talking to the public all the while finishing the war his father started.” Bergan
picked up the cigar and dragged the smoke into his mouth.
“So your problem lies with the executive office. Shouldn’t you suggest ways of repairing
the apparent abuse of power? It may be just you believing that Bush the junior has
overstepped his bounds. I myself never did agree with it totally but we all knew what
Saddam was capable of. We won’t go into discussion about it but what in God’s name is a
trip to Africa going to prove?” Jones leaned back in his chair and took a quick smoke.
Bergan blew out the smoke of his cigar and set the cylindrical amenity down in the
ashtray. “Africa has long been ignored yet it is the cradle of mankind. Many nations of
man came out of that sandbox and now it is time for us to return it to the original splendor
it once held. It may be a wasteland filled with murder and genocide to many but to me…
its home. It is time for the American continent to ask itself yet again if it wants true
globalization of its name. A truly perfect plan used to gain a foothold on a giant rock
inhabited by a bunch of uncivilized people. Why force civilization on them when you can
easily give it to them? That is where many have failed and although a logician could tell
you that giving is a form of coercion, I believe it can be done. These people aren’t
animals, but intelligent citizens awaiting their one true King. I am not that King but I
hope to bring His word to them.”
“God and politics do not mesh. We are a country where separation of church and state
remains commonly invoked in the public sector.”
For just a moment, Bergan opened his mouth in prophecy: “Man can abandon God but
God never abandons man. Quit is a word He knows not.”
Lee asked a general question, “But I thought God created all things, words included?”
Bergan looked back at him, still in a trance: “You are right Lee, but there is one thing He
did not create for He never had to. Everything in this world is given the one chance to
take part in creation at least once and it seems that failure finds its origins in the human
spirit.”
Lee felt that his old friend had indeed changed, as he never remembered Bergan to be so
religious. “So your pledge to do more in the church was not a mere invocation of a
humorous spirit?”
Bergan answered the call on his spirituality with a line soon not to be forgotten, “It was
the very invocation of a spirit that awoke my desire for spiritual peace. One day I just
grew tired of the old ways and saw the vanity everpresent in our world. Truly this is the
end of times and I do not want to be on the side with poor defense.”
“Being religious out of fear for your own hide. You of all people should hate such a
thing.” Lee wanted to know where his friend was going. They had always discussed
religion, them both being roommates in the same Catholic Rectory.
“While that may be one of the reasons people have faith, I believe there is more to it than
fear. It is the true definition of fear that remains the origin of religion: respect and
admiration for something greater than yourself. Why does man so blatantly ignore the
laws set by people thousands of years before them? Even if they are not religious, many
analretentive, lawabiders should understand that people before them had laws. Is it
rebellion or an act of jealousy? The “I have complete control” syndrome is what I call it.
I’ve seen the battlefield and you, myself, and thousands of other soldiers will testify that
there are moments when they are just “lucky”. It is as if at that exact moment a higher
spirit invoked a shield of grace around you to protect from danger. Luck does exist on the
battlefield; you only have to look for it. And that is why I chose to serve God. I lost
myself in the foliage of that luscious forest and almost died. If it weren’t for the speedy
arrival of my team and the US Consulate, I’d be somewhere else. Be it a hallucination or
act of God, I met a strange, mysterious entity calling itself Fortuna. I would have at first
disregarded it as the product of alcohol but seeing as how I was fully rested and fed and
without a drop of the booze in sight, I had to believe what it said. Heck! Even my new
recruit Wesley claims to have met it although it never revealed its name to him.” Bergan
laid his head back, “I saw it before I came in here and although the boy won’t admit it, I
bet he bore witness to its striking personality. What a looker that dark flash of light is.”
Lee knew it. He’s loaded beyond his tolerable level. This stress must be pushing him to
the bottle. He then looked down to the picture frame of his wife lying on his desk.
“Bergan, I think you all need a few days of rest. Work is getting to you and these kids are
mentally unbalanced. Fuck!, the sniper is a raving lunatic! I’ve seen shit at four in the
morning after a long day at the Pentagon but I never truly believed what I saw. It was an
illusion lacking any merit. The Patrons of Eden do not exist. That text is misinformation
and you know it. The Zodiac is dead Michael. They have ceased to be. And in any case, if
it were a true spirit, it would have given me a shaking. But enough chicanery, I’ve made
all the specific arrangements pertaining to your international voyage. The boat leaves in
the morrow from the piers. It is a grand voyage indeed! Can you believe that these civilian
cruises barely do background checks?”
Bergan shook his head in amusement as he and Jones both took a puff in unison. Bergan
blew out the smoke and looked at the label. Havana! Ah, it is a truly delightful honor!
“These cigars are delightful. From whom did you purchase these?” Bergan now most
definitely became intrigued by the fact that he now had residence in a country not in
acknowledgement of UN Embargos.
“From a wholesaler in Mozambique who brings them to the UN conference as gifts. Just
recently, a few countries in Africa have begun to increase foreign relations. It seems that
the American push has finally yielded success in the AU. It is only a matter of time before
they form a coalition government. I’ve even heard something in the pipeline that a
resistance movement in the Congo is planning a grand usurpation of power?”
Bergan smiled deviously, “Maybe? Maybe not?” He took a long look at Jones as he drew
a long take from the wrapped tobacco. Lee understood. Completely.
“God knows I agree with you Brock.” He called Bergan by his nickname. “But I have a
duty as a foreign ambassador to quell disputes before they happen. I have no choice but to
request further investigation into the Darfur attacks pending the arrival of the new
evidence.” Jones and Bergan exchanged glances in between puffs. Bergan finished his
cigar and stamped it out into the ashtray.
He stood up, “Kennedy loved us enough to give us a place in American history. A place
few recognize but all understand. We were the true freedom fighters, uninhibited by a
foolish Congress. How the evidence presented by a regretful Powell two years ago could
have duped anyone is beyond me. I am a strict man but Iraq had no place on our agenda.
Sure it has always been at the top of our list, beside Cuba, but that gave us no right to
declare war. Now I have to watch potential disappear before my eyes to hasty trainers
hoping to ship off a new batch of readymade soldiers to fuel the lifeguzzling war in the
Middle East. It’s painful to turn on the TV everyday to hear the ridiculous debates on
both sides, ripping our beloved country apart. Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious
indeed…it used to not be. Patriotism used to be the little boy who couldn’t wait to start
US History. Patriotism used to be the little girl reciting her ABCs and emphasizing the A,
the S, and the U. Patriotism was once the art of kneeling before your country as if it were
the only thing higher than you that didn’t claim omnipotence. Patriotism used to be about
devotion, love, respect, and admiration for the land you claimed birthright in. Now all that
remains is a feral competition where the rich launder and poor hunger. American loyalty
has hit the nadir of its crescent. And it is up to the truly devoted to light the way to a
better America. This perversion in definition is a direct result of the war that trained us
Lee…the Cold War. It is the reason America now seems the bad guy. Everyone embraces
communism until it collapses from beneath its own weight. America has no true
boundaries; it fluctuates like a feather, a leaf, a page in a history textbook fluttering in the
wind. There is no “communism” or “capitalism”; there is only America and her white and
red stripes protecting the 50 bright stars that forge our union, a union that is quickly
disintegrating. I am fearing another Civil War is on the rise…”
Lee got up and walked to his guest, his friend. “All that you say is true Michael, but the
problem lies with your methods. Is freedom worth a million lives?” Bergan closed the gap
between their faces, got real cozy. “Freedom, in my book, is worth every single human
life. Nothing equals the price I place on the land of the free. It is my home, and my mortal
love. America as an ideal can topple mountains, governments, and scoundrels. America
as a government has the responsibility of living up to its ideals and living out the phrase E
Pluribus Unum. Revolution has rallied our people to form a grand republic, patriotism
forged countless innovations in the name of freedom, devotion turned the tides of wars
both foreign and domestic, and loyalty has changed lives. One thing about America sets it
aside from all other institutions: adaptation. Adaptation has kept this country far away
from the paths of Rome, France, and Germany. We…I…I cannot allow anything to
upstage my home, my…my life.” Bergan slowly backed away and found his way to the
door all the while dragging his feet as if formulating one last thought. He turned the knob
and gazed at Lee Jones and his skinny but built frame, “I have spent my life keeping this
country ahead of corruption. I will not allow witless buffoons to plunder and rob the good
American people of a three century triumph.” He opened the door and shut it.
1:00 PM, Livingston residence
“I am starving.” Calvin opened up the pantry and walked inside. He halfexpected the
door to shut behind him but Rob was not present. He laughed to himself.
“Crazy kid would never stop it.” April understood what he was laughing about.
“When you lose a friend, their absence leaves an awkward pause. Except this pause can
never again be filled.”
“I can fill it for you.” April joked.
“But it’s the way he does it. He waits for me to walk in here in a moment of vulnerability
and the he shuts the door. Although it is quite funny to him, I find it to be the most lame
thing ever. I kind of hoped I would miss his silly antics.”
“So you don’t miss them?” April pried.
“I miss them but it is centered more on the loss of the person than the act itself.”
“David was missed just the same?”
“Yeah. But he can be more easily ignored. He killed people April. The histories of the
two don’t carry the same weight.”
“Movie?”
“No. Let’s go for a walk.” Calvin said on a moment’s thought.
“A walk?” April was just as surprised as Calvin at the idea.
“I just thought that the middle of Spring would give us something look at in awe. The
natural world is always an inspiration for art.”
“Yes it is.” April kept her smile inside. She loved him.
Lee found his desk chair and settled back into it. He covered his face and ran his hands
through his hair, the dryness welling to the surface. I need to ask her about getting that
Head and Shoulders shampoo when I get home to the kids. He reached for his phone and
dialed Hagan’s cellular phone.
He got an answer, “Hello?” Hagan answered.
“Opportunity, this is Bliss.”
“Fortune is less obvious.” Hagan replied.
“Fortune, I need you to commence the operation. Bergan is going to execute Operation:
Domino.”
“American control of Africa will not solve anything.” Hagan retorted.
“I agree. The judgment has been passed down from Elson. Start the King’s revolution.”
“Yes sir. The snake charmer has been trained. Send two war hawks and possibly a flock
of geese.”
“Dozen or two dozen.”
“A baker’s dozen. The extra can be the baker.”
“I’ll pass your order along to the head of the noose.”
“Oh, can I also ask for a red powerade.”
“The machine will never know about the true intentions of the King’s revolution. To them
it will be nothing more than a corporate coup.”
“So it would be a cooperate?” Hagan chided.
“No. Anyway…that was a little funny. Anyways, the receipt shall be forgone and all
records erased. Big Mac is yours.”
“Thank you. Tell Elson I say thank you.” Hagan wanted to win support from the former
leader.
“He wants nothing to do with you. The vipers have begun to populate the earth. They will
become your mortal enemy.” Jones warned.
“Then leave me and tell your manager that I have no intention of rescinding my orders.
COBRA shall crawl out of hibernation. This transmission is over.” Hagan hung up.
Jones set his phone in the cradle and lifted it back up. He listened for the dial tone.
He punched in a familiar number.
“Yes, this is Ambassador Jones at the UN. Good how are you? I am feeling fine. May I
speak to the President?”
A Force Rises
The White House operator sat at her desk, thumbing through the channels on the office
radio. “storms moving West, caused by the advent of Hurricane Averil. Averil originated
off the coast of Africa and has made its way to Virginia while following a strange path.
Meteorologists are currently putting together study into the changes in weather patterns
over the past century due to growing concerns about global warming.” “Looks like I’ve
got to drench myself again to drive home. April always has too much rain up here.”
Her coworker looked at her while on hold with a Congressman, “I hear ya’…yes Mr.
Delay, I’ll leave a message for the President.” The phone rang again and the first operator
lifted the phone, “The Office of the President, Jules Kopern speaking.” “Yes, this is
Ambassador Jones at the UN.”
“How are you Mr. Jones?”
“Good How are you? I’m feeling fine. Look, may I speak to the President?” Jules checked
the President’s schedule. “I’m sorry Mr. Jones but the President is in the middle of a
meeting with the Joint Chiefs. May I take down some sort of message or number to reach
you by?”
Lee knew this was the only chance he’d get this message to those who needed it.
“I need you to find somebody to deliver this to him ASAP. Write this down with each
word in a horizontal column of its own. Line begins: A Force Rises In Central America
Can you repeat this message back to me?”
The operator always encountered strangely encoded messages and learned to ignore their
meanings. “Another Force Rises In Central America.”
“Good, now I need this message to be considered urgent and related to the meeting of
Joint Chiefs. Can you do that for me?”
The operator called for one of the messengers, “Sure Mr. Jones.”
“Thank you and have a wonderful day.” Lee cut the phone. He had to move quickly. The
boat left in half an hour.
Piquard had been showing some of the artwork adorning the hallways when Bergan’s call
came from behind them.
“There you three are. We need to head to the docks now. The boat is a half an hour into
preparations for departure. Wesley, Raymond? Won’t you join me? Piquard?” He put his
hand out to give respect to the man he had just met. “It was an honor making your
acquaintance.”
Piquard returned the favor and their hands interlocked for a brief ten seconds. Bergan put
on his cool smile to elicit a calm and slow character. He was of the exact opposite
however.
Their hands broke and Bergan motioned for the two boys to follow him.
“Kenneth is awaiting our arrival and will be pleased to know that we were able to visit the
UN HQ. We will now head to the car and find our way out of here.”
They walked to the parking garage, then ventured out into the stormraged island of New
York known for its mammoth architecture and bustling business.
Meanwhile, back at the White House, the Joint Chiefs began to file out of the room after
a completed briefing on the Iraqi war. Some things were bad while others seemed good.
That’s how war is.
A small intern came walking through with a folded sheet of paper with the letters
“URGENT!” written on the underside. “Sir, Mr. President? This message is from
Ambassador Jones at the UN. He says that it is urgent.”
Bush accepted the piece of paper and nodded at the intern, “Thanks, what is it about?” He
asked playfully, wondering if curiosity had gotten to the young boy.
“I wouldn’t know sir, the lady said that it was for your eyes only.”
“Thank ya’.”
“You’re most graciously welcome.”
The messenger left the room as the CIA director came from the right.
“What would Lee Jones be sending you at this time of day?”
Bush opened the note and saw the verticalhorizontal setup. Another Force Rises In
Central America. The column spells out AFRICA! BERGAN! Central America…
BOULDER.
Bush ran through the meanings in the small note. “It seems that we may need to take a
closer look underneath that rock out in Colorado...” The door to the meeting room shut
and Bush finished his sentence, the rain beginning to drop outside. “It seems that Brock
Bergan has become a problem.”
3:00 PM
Calvin and April came back from their walk, having just quietly admired the scenery.
Calvin would explain the residents of the houses. He would chat about those he knew and
quietly wonder about those he did not. He talked of his childhood around this area. He
showed her the house where he filmed during the winter. He showed her some of the
homes seen on the MTV show Cribs. He even showed her where a few of their perrs at
Woodward lived.
The traffic of NYC today seemed to be horridly abysmal today as everyone trudged
through a foot of water. Their limousine weaved in and out of lanes in an attempt to make
a hasty escape to the ports. Rain pelted the closed skylight as Bergan grinned. “This
weather is going to make security on my vessel ridiculously difficult.”
David calmly addressed his superior, “I am assuming that cargo ships have doors that
allow sealed exits, prohibiting outsiders from entering.”
“You are right David, but the bridge and many other locations have windowed areas that
would pretty much make locking the doors useless. With windows, you could probably
save money just to leave the doors unlocked.”
Rob had to ask something “Why would we need to guard the boat? David isn’t that
important to the US, is he? Or is there something you are transporting that makes our trip
controversial? Something…how do I say this without being the bad guy? Oh yeah,
illegal.”
Bergan looked forward, his eyes on their driver. “We would never transport anything
illegal. I am only fearing for the safety of my cargo. Why would I ever agree to break the
exportation laws of my own country?”
Sarcasm is no stranger bribing me with candy sir. I know now for certain that something
on that ship is of vital interest to the US govt.
“Whatever you say Major. Michael Chasm would be proud of you.” Rob bit back.
Bergan felt the need to reassert authority, “And who would Michael Chasm be?”
Rob smiled his knowing smile. A smile that would make children cry. “A knight of the
British Order. Sir Chasm, a master of politics and a cunning linguist.”
Bergan figured out the juxtaposition of name and situation. “Thank you Mr. Clark for
gracing us with intelligent brainteasers. But as I said, teasers. They are nothing more
than pure appetizers to intellectual word play. I am no writer, only a player in world
politics. My point is, quit using only appetizers and move onto the main course. I may not
be the only one tired of your senseless, irrelevant although witty, and sometimes
downright annoying word usage. So could you please refrain from boring my day
anymore and maybe wait to use the word games when we arrive in Africa?”
Rob sulked in his chair, “Yes sir.”
Bergan sulked as well, tired of the uncooperative weather. “This sitting is giving me a
backache. Kenneth better have some aspirin for my backache or alcohol for my heartache
because one of them is giving me a headache.”
“Send in the SEALS and infiltrate that cargo ship. I want to know what Brock Bergan is
transporting to Africa.” Assistant Director Elson passed on the official order from the
Pentagon to the Navy. This directaction initiative went against all orthodox forms of
espionage but the weather was being cooperative. The turbulent river and freezing,
powerful rain would cancel out both the SONAR and sentry secureity methods. This
would allow one sentry to gain access to the ship by bridge and then helping a boarding
party dock from the bow. Security remains tighter at the rear of a ship to protect both the
control tower and the propeller block. Elso picked up the phone and dialed a specialty
number. “Send in one of our own to keep the location of the prisoners a secret. I don’t
want any “accidents”.” He hung up the phone and walked around the side of his desk
after pacing during his briefing of the Marine Commandant. “I sure as hell hope this
strange mission works.”
The Hudson River
Back in New York, Bergan and the others boarded the large cargo ship. “You two are
going to sit in our cubbyhole of sorts and watch over a few things, mainly yourselves.”
Bergan walked through the halls to the bow of the ship. It was a big ship but not
necessarily titanic, as it only needs to carry dry and wet supplies for their headquarters in
Africa. The long, narrow halls seemed to be newly built and signs of construction were
prevalent. Rob guessed this was a privately commissioned vessel as many members of
BOULDER strutted around with MP5’s in their hands. The trip to the forward
compartment took a solid ten minutes but when they arrived, they noticed a severe drop in
temperature. Rob, David, and Bergan all closed their arms to keep heat close to their
chest.
“So, when you said that you wanted David and I to chill, you meant it literally?” Rob
slowly rubbed his arms.
Bergan gave a slight chuckle and then spoke, “I’ll give you all arctic thermal wear that is
tightly woven and sticks close to the skin to prevent heat loss. Don’t worry about the cold,
all I need you all to do is sit in this room and stay moderately quiet. I have four guards
stationed in this room so do not feel alone. Keep em’ company, this is their punishment.”
Bergan knocked on the door and shouted something. “How’s Horace?”
The door unbarred and a lone soldier stepped out and into the freezing hallway wearing a
white suit that appeared to be very fromfitting with a parka overcoat and what appeared
to be a stitched, neoprene substance. Probably to ensure a temporary fix should the
coolants crack the metal and causing a leak? After all, they are in the forward
compartment. He was carrying a different weapon set than the others, which presented a
strange question. What made this room so different?
“Hello Perry. Temperatures seem to be up, what’s the reason?” Bergan asked his
lieutenant.
“Sir, the regulatory commission came back here and requested that we turn the
temperature up three degrees Celsius. Something about the river or some technical
whatnot. What matters is, we turned it up to humour him and when we hit the ocean we
can turn the temps back down. Unprofessionally sir, I think the man is a tightwad.”
“Speak freely Terry.”
“Perry sir. Oh sorry, my bad. Rough day, look around for any outsiders will ya’. We are
rushing out this time due to our unorthodox cargo.”
Rob tried to look around the partially opened door but couldn’t for Perry was blocking the
only crack. I wonder what the hell could be in there that would require an armed guard?
“Got it sir. What are you going to do with those two?” He motioned towards David and
Rob.
“Get them a suit and a weapon, preferably just a pistol. The M9 should do fine as I know
your extensive training with it. Marine…keep these two out of trouble and away from the
specimens. The last thing I need is for Mr. Irony in there to wake up before I finish.”
“I’ll keep Mr. Hudson at bay.” He began to crack up along with Bergan.
“What’s so funny?” Rob asked, being the curious lad he was.
Bergan covered his face and donned his serious tone. “An inside joke. Only now can
ignorance be bliss. You’ll know soon enough. Perry, give these men arms and attire. I
have a ship to launch.”
“Yes sir.” Bergan walked off quickly, leaving David and Rob without so much as a
goodbye. Must be preoccupied as he hasn’t calmed down since the UN. Rob thought to
himself as Perry turned around and opened the door.
“Hey Thomas, we have company.” The semijesting tone of the supposed Marine
reverberated throughout the lower hallway.
He turned around and shut the door as David and Rob looked around. Icicles in the
corners, a frozen watercooler, a small couch sitting next to a space heater. This metallic
room had everything centered in the middle with nothing touching a wall save the power
cords running all over the place. These power cords seemed monstrous and high capacity.
“Lieutenant Perry Marron, exMarine. Centered out of Cherry Point in North Carolina. I
enjoy warm apple pie and every moment I spend outside this giant ice box. Would you
guys care for a soda? They are nice and cold as are the popsicles sitting in the corner.”
Rob and David dropped their jaws a bit more upon seeing a gigantic stack of rainbow ice
pop boxes sitting below a small icicle. “You know your life has entered s trange period
when popsicles sit out as if they were bananas. Everytime is see that giant cardboard box
tribute to childhood fantasies, I shake my head in sheer amazement at how unlucky it is
for me to be surrounded by popsicles both edible and human.”
“Human?” David tuned his ears as he checked out the couch that seemed to have a brown
ice shaft flying from it.
Perry caught onto David’s obvious question. “To explain the brown icicle, each of the
contractors assigned to this boat used to guard this room on a rotating basis. That brown
thing over there is the reason we are here permanently. We, meaning Thomas and myself,
were playing with the thermostat. We boiled some coffee and then threw it out to see how
quickly it would change to ice. We finally got to a point where it would change upon
contact with another object, this time that object was metal. Metal is a strong conductor
of heat and thus the cold metallic surface quickly froze the coffee. But by this time, I was
wearing at least three of these parkas. It was fucking freezing. I admit that this is not very
mature but there aren’t many things to do in here and Thomas and I are not gay so…yeah.
We fiddled with the temperature and Bergan got…you know…pissed. So we are now the
permanent guards of this room as a form of punishment. This is why our only rule will be
to not fiddle with any computer unless it is one we should designate as safe. Any and all
malfunctions in this room will affect our standing in the organization. Just don’t get me
fired.”
“Okay, can we suit up because my nipples are nonexistant and…” Rob began but David
interrupted.
“It would be in the best interest of your future children to not finish that sentence.” David
walked past Perry and over to the large stack of Diet Cokes lined up with various other
assorted soft drinks.
Perry looked at Rob and David and noted the animosity one had for the other.
Book V: The Rain of Death
You want to know how it happened? Here is how it happened in three simple words. We
fucked up. The planet had rid itself of the annoying contrivances of blind faith. Well, it
thought it had. The problems that began were small and tiny. They were the drizzle before
the rain. They were the rain before the wind. They were the wind before the hurricane.
They were the worst example of the Butterfly Effect.
Vengeance: As printed in the Nonfictional Account of the Atrocious War (War of
Attrition)
April and May, what a great way to end a day
The movie started in Calvin’s basement, his popcorn bowl set on the table. He had his
limewater.
April sat down with a glass of soda. She took a handful of popcorn. The sun was dead.
“We made a great team today.” Calvin grabbed some popcorn as well and munched.
The DVD player started up. Calvin put the disc into the player and slid it closed.
“I would say so. We also made a great couple.”
“Let’s keep that private.” Calvin sat down.
“Okay. I won’t tell anyone on the bus tomorrow.”
“You are only riding because we had to get this done with a small time frame.”
“You admitted it today Calvin. You do have something for me. I am going to just wait it
out just for you.”
“I am flattered. My relationship with you was based solely on my interest in discussion
and conversation. You are quite intelligent. I would rather know you personally and in a
civilized fashion. There will be a time for animalistic games of love. But right now, I am
perfectly content with seeing your eyes everyday light up with emotions. Your hair seems
to be a veil I like to part.” He stroked her hair. But the previews began and interrupted his
actions. She felt her heart race. She hated how she had never felt anything like this from
Alex. All he seemed to do was evoke the strong stomach feelings of pleasure. This feeling
was in her face. She blushed considerably. She felt no one would notice.
“You blush, why?” Calvin had the eyesight of a damned cat.
“I hoped you wouldn’t notice.”
“I did. So?”
“It seems I am perfectly content to just talk with you as well.”
“Oh…okay.” Calvin didn’t get the picture. He would in due time.
“I hope this movie is as good as you say it is.” She moved her hair like he had. She did
not feel a thing. He seemed to be the cause of these feelings. She’d gladly give up sex if
this was what he could do with just a flip of her hair.
“Of course this is a good movie. Under Siege has Tommy Lee Jones in it.”
“Is he the main character?” April asked.
“No…it’s Steven Seagal.” Calvin replied.
Deep Freeze
“Here are two suits to keep the green warm. Hi, name’s Thomas. No military background
but I did work in France on the first cryogenics experiments. I’m the IT technician for the
human cryogenics storage compartment here. Bergan has asked that all people on this
ship know of its existence.”
“So they finally learned to freeze people without them dying?” David popped open the
Diet Coke and took a swig.
“Yeah, wouldn’t it be difficult to resuscitate a dead heart?” Rob joined in on a question.
Perry turned, “Not unless cybernetic enhancements are made. Thomas can tell you more
about it. I am only here to keep that door from opening. Why don’t you guys go back with
him so he can show you to the sleeping quarters. Best beds on the ship…because we have
to use two blankets and the room is the perfect place to store soft drinks. They never get
warm.”
David and Rob followed Thomas down another narrow passage, passing door after door
of hissing mechanics. These probably contained the refrigeration compartments and other
pipes and liquids needed to keep whatever it is that needed frostbite frozen.
“So Thomas, I hear you can tell us more.” Rob asked.
“I’ll cut to the chase. Bergan has given you two to me because he feels that you two will
be useful to him in the coming future. He was intrigued by your show last year Mr.
Jackson. And then he came across his legacy, You Mr. Clark.”
“Legacy?” Rob closed his eyebrows in confusion.
“You are what he has been looking for. Our reports from various sources indicate that you
have a strong inclination to be detached and free spirited. Your emotional weakness is
considered strength to Bergan. Bergan finds that emotions determine what kind of soldier
one will be. There are the emotional types who are really good for speech writing but that
is all they are good at. Then there are the Buddhists, we call em’ that because of their
devotion to a lifestyle similar to Buddhism. But Buddhists is more of a surface term.
There is a better word to describe them that is not violating the definition of a word.”
“What word would that be?” Rob liked where this was going. He was wrong.
“Massmurderer. Eventually though, they become perfect warriors who pass by an enemy
worthless to kill. Once you become a professional, your kill count becomes like a score in
golf. The lower it is, the more professional you are.”
“But the number has to be in the hundreds.” David
“Thousands actually. Once you get past a certain number, you forget to care. It isn’t that
you love to take life; it is just that the emotional disturbance it causes is lessened. I don’t
like to kill a man but if he is trying to kill me or I am ordered, I pull the trigger.”
“You probably have problems with freezer burn, huh?” Rob joked, staring around in awe
at the strange area that was the front compartment. He was trying to change the subject.
“Okay…we’ll change our conversation. This compartment sits five feet off the hull of the
boat. This is the most insulated room on the entire ship because of the extreme cold. The
extra tubes are for the engine coolant, it’s cost effective.”
“What ways can you enter or exit this section of the ship?” David asked a question he
wanted to know the answer to. He didn’t want to drown in a freezer…that would be really
weird.
“There is a sky hatch for entrance to the upper deck but it is only accessible to Perry, he
has the key to unlock the door. It is a large hatch used for loading this area and or making
repairs to the machinery. But we keep it locked when it is not in use. We then sealed off
the entrance to the hatch room using the sturdy steel America makes today. Only an idiot
with a bomb would break through. Although a powerful torch could probably burn a hole
in it, that kind of equipment would not be portable. By the way, how do your suits fit?”
“Fine.”
“Yeah Fine.” They both commented on the comfortable factor of the lightweight
garments.
“But in any case, the situation up here is mostly mild. We don’t usually encounter
stowaways in the freezer bin.”
Perry walked up from behind, “Except for that one charming fellow.”
Thomas turned and walked up to Perry, “What do you need? You are supposed to be
covering the front entrance?”
“Bergan needs you to bring a case of vodka up for the captain as a launching “gift”. We
have…a problem.”
Thomas closed his eyes and ran immediately to the storage room.
Perry apologized, “Forgive the interruption but we need to give the captain a reason to
launch against Port Authority’s orders.”
I knew it! Rob and David both said to themselves. They are carrying something
considered illegal.
“And why would we need to flee the port?” David asked.
“Because the bow compartment might contain something a bit controversial. I’ll escort
you to the bunks.” They followed the passage down and to the right, past a galley and
Thomas running, and finally past a large computer room before coming to a large door.
“This is the lounge and breakfast room. Now mind you, this room is a bit warmer than in
here but not by much. The bunks are carefully kept behind the lounge and behind a
forward furnace used to create the chilly atmosphere. It helps to keep our room warm.”
“Sounds good.” David and Rob both said as Perry slid his card through. It was apparently
guarded by a security code.
“The code to get in or out is none of your concern. All I ask is that you sit in that room for
about five minutes and warm up before walking into the lounge. Otherwise, you can end
up having not so pleasurable a ride.”
“We understand.” Rob walked up and pushed the door open. Inside was a room similar to
the rest of this section: bland steel walls with rivets lining the vertical and horizontal. The
main difference was the addition of a bench lined with boots and a string of hangers to
place outerwear.
“Nice room. The interior designer likes consistency.” Rob quipped as he and David both
walked in. Perry shut the door, “See you all in a few hours. Once we push past port and
enter free ocean, I’ll bring you two back to the surface. This is a temporary fix until we
get customs off our ass.” He shut the door and the boltlocked shut.
David sat down, taking off his coat as a vent above them opened. Warmer air began to
stream in, blanketing the two boys in a mist.
“I’ve been wet, frozen, and in a sauna…all in a two hour period.” David hung the top part
of his suit above on a hanger. He then sat down to pull off his shoes.
Rob sat down too, “Might as well get comfy.”
Portent Port
President Ridgemont walked into his office to take a call from the CIA.
“Elson? Have we mobilized yet?’ He made sure to make his voice stern to belay the
severity of this situation.
Elson responded, “The Marines have moved their man to the bridge. Now we are waiting
for the SEALS to get their boat in the water. But this storm sir, it is making all of our
efforts difficult. We are pushing to meet them past the Verazzano narrows while it pushes
out to sea. This storm makes SONAR detection difficult towards the bow and thus it is
our optimum choice for infiltration. I’ll call you the minute we are ready.”
“Thank you Jerrold. You had this ready quicker than I expected. We may have a place for
you. Make sure that we are ready by Verrazzano. Goodbye.” He hung up, exasperated.
“This hunch of mine better work.”
Jerrold Elson, assistant Deputy Director (CIA), picked up the telephone and gave the
command. “Infiltration of the ship Rock Solid has been granted. Commence Operation:
White Wash.”
“Roger that Command. Commencing SOP for domestic infiltration.”
The phone went dead and for the first time, Elson welcomed it.
He’d call the President as soon as he got word on the launch of the proxy.
Bergan looked the official in the eye, the rain and thunder clouding out his voice.
“I need you to validate our launch. We are ready to go, all procedures have been verified,
and my ship is in tiptop condition. I think that I should be allowed to leave the port.”
The official needed to stall only until his man came back with the final word and the
documentation.
“Mr. Bergan, as soon as my associate returns, weather permitting, you may leave this port
but I warn you. Any problems incurred by your ship while navigating in this storm are
your responsibility. That includes public property.”
The associate returned, “They are ready to go sir. The boss gave the green light. Just tell
them to be careful in this storm.” He handed the plastic envelope Bergan had handed
them to keep the papers dry.
The official smiled and bid Bergan goodbye, “Good day and safe journey Mr. Bergan.
Godspeed.” Bergan took the papers slowly and returned the smile.
“Godspeed to you as well.” At that, the official and his associate walked down the
gangplank and Bergan’s men pulled it up.
He said to himself as he headed up to the control tower, I have a sneaking suspicion that
we will have uninvited guests today.
David and Rob walked out of the temperature adjustment chamber and found a room
filled with carpeting and a large assortment of couches and beds. Two were made up,
islands in an ocean of messy bunks. Lining the walls around them were the bunks with
the couches in the middle, surrounding a lowered table to allow for eating. It was comfy
room with a small refrigerator to the left in the corner, and a microwave sitting on top of
it. The microwave seemed to be unfitting of such a cold area, its red stripes conjuring
thoughts of warmth and coziness. The refrigerator however was cold white, eliciting back
the ideas of cold drudgery.
Rob took one couch and David another. Both settled in to take a nap, knowing that they’d
have energy to enjoy a fantastic voyage across the ocean. As Rob began to fall into a deep
sleep, he asked himself why he was deserting his family and friends. His answer: He saw
this as his chance to break away from the monotony of experiencing a case of the
Mondays 52 weeks a year.
Bergan pushed the door open and entered the bridge, the rain outside reminding him of
the poor visibility he had to now navigate. “Can we make this trip as quick as possible? I
need to make it into international waters as soon as humanly possible.”
The captain checked his boss’s curled fist. The vodka in his hand allowed his eyes to avert
their gaze to his charter’s face. He smiled, his face a dark brooding brow. “Sure thing
Michael.” Captain Doug Manicrest kept his fake smile up, tired beyond all doubt of this
man’s continued conceit. His only reasoning now remained the paycheck. He had already
decided to retire from the cargo shipping industry and this was his last twoway trip. The
next time he saw Manhattan’s harbor, his family would be there waiting for him.
Meanwhile, three hundred yards away, a lone marine stood on the towering Verazzano
Bridge, his face grim and calculating.
<Virtuous Mission…MGS3 OST>
He picked up the lead of the rappelling rope attached to the bridge and clipped it to his
harness. He checked his watereddown hat to ensure that it was secure. Ten feet away, a
black suburban with emergency lights on kept its vigilant watch.
The marine checked the boat’s status again and made the decision to begin descending.
He had a long drop to reach the bow and he’d need a head start.
“Here we go. 3, 2, 1…”
He carefully slung his body over the safety rail and slid himself around so that he faced
the street. The rope was secured to the horizontal support beam beneath his feet, so he
would need to grasp that first. He checked his gloves and ensured that they were properly
secured. Good, all is set. Let’s get this over with.
He carefully lowered himself onto the beam so that he was now hanging. Thanking God
for all the pushups and pullups required in training, our lone marine grabbed the support
end of his descent rope and pulled out his belaying mechanism. If he needed to stop, this
baby would halt on a dime. Let’s check the ship. He looked ahead and saw that the bow
was about a hundred yards away. On belay…go!” He released the grip his mechanism had
and began descending, shuffling out rope as if it were an explosive. He descended
towards the ship.
Bergan had begun scanning the horizon for any forms of human life but the waning sun
obscured his vision. Light was pretty much scarce at this time in the evening, what after
being detained for two hours because some fool in the hierarchy felt the need to delay
him. The only way onto this ship is from above and there remains one last bridge: the
Verazzano. He wondered why these binoculars’ night vision function wouldn’t cooperate.
He was not going to search for the packed thermal vision scopes.
“Captain, why is the night vision function on these binoculars not working?” Doug turned
to check the sonar screen and noticed a small object sitting to the north, near the mouth of
the river. “Because those are prototype. I only use them for day time…you might want to
find another pair.”
Bergan scanned what was left of the horizon as the ship approached the last bridge.
“Could you turn off some of the lights in here? It would be helpful.” Bergan asked
angrily.
Doug just walked over and flipped off seven of the eight switches. He quietly resumed the
helm. He swept his cone of vision from left to right, scanning for any sort of human
figure. The he saw it, hanging just below the support strut: a long, straight object that
seemed to be flexing and twisting. It’s got to be a rope, which means that…
He moved the binoculars down an inch. …there will be a human on the other end. It
seems that I forgot something and they are just trying to return it.
He looked to the captain, stern and grim. “Slow the engine, it seems that your raise just
came in.”
He set the binoculars down and walked over to the telephone. The captain knew exactly
what Bergan had seen. “So we have company at last? I was starting to wonder whether
we’d have a going away party. I hope you have lighter stuff than this vodka, I might crash
too soon.” He checked the dials and ensured that they were still on course. He also
checked the sonar, noticing the small blip that had just disappeared in front of them.
“Bergan?” He called as Bergan hung the phone back up.
“Yes? Is something wrong?” Bergan walked up behind the captain and looked over his
shoulder at the sonar screen.
“We had a small object idling upstream that just disappeared suddenly. And things just
don’t disappear off of sonar unless they want to. We’ve got an uninvited boarding party to
the north and if my years of experience are telling me anything, there will be six men.”
“Yes, the shipping industry has its moments.” Bergan crossed over to the phone and lifted
it again, speaking firmly. “Yes. I’m calling again. Better make that 25 and arm them with
tasers on their RAIL.” We’ll need at least 25 soldiers to surround them.
A voice on the other end asked what kind of armament to use.
Bergan thought for a moment. We can’t have any fatalities. None.
“M16 A4. Now remember, I am taking away your formal command and am issuing a
ceasefire order. Under no circumstances are you to open fire on our uninvited guest. As
long as they are left unharmed, we cannot be considered a threat to national security. Do
not fire, even if fired upon. I’d rather we suffer casualties than them. We are only
enforcing our private constitutional right to maintain the security of our vessel. Use the
taser only under my express permission. “
The voice made a solemn agreement and hung up the phone. Bergan gently placed the
receiver back into the cradle. I wonder who wants me dead this time. He then chuckled.
“In my line of work…it is probably the social hierarchy.”
“What?” The Captain asked.
“Should have kept that one to myself. It’ll be government though, the infiltrators. It
always is the government.”
The Captain screwed the lid back onto the vodka, the fiery liquid sliding into his stomach.
“Social hierarchy huh? More like a check against human anarchy.” The Captain was pro
government, as most people are. It is understandable, seeing as how no government would
encourage lawlessness.
Bergan shook his head, discouraged by this display of blind faith. “I thought ship captains
would understand. Oh well…I’ll have to explain it for everyone. Government is only a
check against human corruption and anarchy when it is not propagating it. I’ve been to
South America…” He grabbed the bottle and took a drink. The captain felt just a bit
angry. “…practically own the place.”
Goodnight Moon
The movie finished and Calvin asked the inevitable question to add finality to their
viewing experience. “Was it good?”
“It was pretty good. Not as bad as Rob keep saying he is.”
“That’s because this is one of his good movies. You should be glad we did not watch Out
for a Kill…or Into the Sun. Ugh….”
“I am ready for bed.” She yawned. Her mouth opened wide. (No…not like that.)
“It is about 10:30.” Calvin looked at th clock as he headed to the light switch outside the
room.
He walked back in and began the task of putting away the DVD.
“So where am I sleeping?” Calvin was glad Rob was not here to respond.
“In the guest room upstairs. There is a bathroom with a shower for you to use. Clean and
snug sheets as well. It’ll keep you very comfy.”
“I’m glad. Walk me upstairs?” She aimed her gaze towards him.
“Kind of have to. I sleep just down the hall…in my room.” He said it very protectively.
“Your room huh? What if I want to sleep in your room? You seem to think of it as better
than the guest room?”
“You can’t sleep in my room.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am sleeping in my room…” Calvin added.
“What if I want to snuggle?”
“No.” Calvin bluntly said.
“No midnight rendezvous huh? Good. Then I can trust you in the night. I may act like I
like sex Calvin but I am multifaceted. Alex…has not been anywhere with me. Since you
were frank with me, I thought I’d be frank with you.”
“Thank you…Frank.”
“Stop it you!” She slapped his arm. “I am trying to be serious.”
“And so was Steven Seagal…anywho. Go on.”
“Alex had planned to take our relationship further that night at his house. It seems fate did
not want it so. Fate sent you to be my knight. I am a virgin Calvin. Although he has
touched me and we have experimented, I have never dishonored my family. It is the
teenage thing you know. Learn more about yourself. I did and felt weird. Something was
not right. But it is with you. Everything is right with you. You may be troubled on the
inside but just know that the trouble you experience has shaped you into a far stronger
man than Alex could ever be. He will be a man definitely. But whether or not he could
stand up to you again is yet to be seen. I do not want to ruin this relationship over sex.”
“Me too. To mention something, Rob and I talked about this once. He made a note that I
have found to be very true. He seems to have his moments. He said that a relationship
founded in sex will fail because there is no other motivation to keep the relationship
going. But if it is based on having fun and talking and just enjoying the company of
another, it will last a lifetime.”
“You are lucky to have such a smart friend.”
“You have experienced the same feeling. By calling him smart, you are complimenting
yourself.”
“You are also complimenting me for bringing that correlation up.”
“Ready for bed?”
“Definitely. I am ready for a hot shower.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Calvin threw the thought of her in the shower away. He’d
rather wait to see it in person.
Infiltration
<The Sorrow 1:58…MGS3 Snake Eater>
The rope slid through his hands at a rapidly increasing rate. Almost there…
The Marine checked his height and saw the deck of the cargo ship fast approaching. In
this line of work, “never look down” was a children’s story.
He tightened the mechanism and his speed came back under control as he hit the bottom.
He hit rough, his legs straining from the momentous drop. He loosened and detached the
harness, dropping it. Above on the bridge’s pylons, a lone scout was keeping watch. The
scout gave the signal to cut the rope. Two men began quickly hacking the delivery rope. It
would not be in their favor to let it hit the bridge of the ship.
Back on the bow of the ship, the Marine activated his radio.
“I’m in. Tell the men upstairs that all is go.” He turned his radio off.
Now to establish where I am and scout a perimeter.
Left and right flanks were secure, filled with the outline of the ship’s exterior. He had
landed five feet off of his intended target. Not bad for a rainy night.
Now to look forward and check out my security issue. He had to make doubly sure that
his back was safe as he helped the SEALs dock with the bow. He dragged the fallen rope
towards him and anchored it on a nearby pylon. He then slung it over the side for the
SEALs would soon arrive.
Bergan loaded the clip into the bottom of his Beretta. He holstered it and headed for the
bow.
The SEAL unit heading upriver came to a quiet dock on the port bow of the boat. They
saw the rope and four men began to ascend it and onto the bow. The Marine was waiting.
Bergan met up with the collection of armed BOULDER mercenaries waiting for orders
about one hundred feet from the bow.
“Wait until they finish boarding and the water delivery vehicle departs.” He tugged at the
portable radio he had on his hip. Speaking into it, he asked the captain if the ship was on
sonar or radar. An honest response, “No sir, it’s stopped moving and has disappeared. It
must have docked on the bow. I’ll call you as soon as it departs.”
“Thanks Doug. Bergan out.” He put the radio back and asked the nearby watchmen to
pass the binoculars. The rain was still dense and Bergan could not make out anything. But
he knew he could notice movement over the bow, thus he moved his line of sight to watch
the starboard and port bows.
Come on…come one…come all….right into our trap.
One body came over the port side followed by three more. They seemed to be wearing
dark black with gray and white face paint. Bergan counted the intruders to four before the
movement stopped. There was a fifth that then went over the bow and headed down.
The leader of the SEAL unit cut the rope once the MARINE made it back into the craft.
He gave the signal to secure the bow. I’m free at last, he thought to himself. Free of
bureaucracy and complacency. I am now home…returned to the COBRAS.
The watercraft pushed off of the ship and cut its engine. The crew and the SEALS let it
float away to avoid any suspicion from the ship.
Bergan heard his radio go off and tugged it back out. It was a man on the aft deck who
had noticed a small craft drifting away. “Thank you…men, let’s go.”
Bergan put away the radio and the twenty mercenaries advanced on the fore deck.
Where has the time gone since we were together last? Bergan smiled, awaiting the
reunion of the COBRAS.
The SEALs noticed the large miltia here to greet them and cursed, all except for one. The
leader stood tall and smiled, his happiness overwhelmingly infatuating him.
The COBRAS will rise again, and the world will rejoice!
“Drop your weapons! Hands on your head!”
The team leader all but resisted. The smile on his face as Michael Bernard Bergan walked
into the light.
The Marine leader stood ready.
“Who is in charge here?”
<Virtuous Mission 3:54…MGS3 Snake Eater>
Bergan called out, knowing the answer but going through with the act. He always enjoyed
stage drama.
The team leader stood forward, “I am sir.”
Bergan and the leader met eyes, the excitement energizing their connection. The members
of the SEAL unit immediately smelt it. The way he had nonchalantly dropped his weapon
without even resistance and that ridiculous smile: the characteristics of a traitor.
“Name, rank, and serial number.” Bergan joked.
“Sergeant Wesley O’Neill. I have no serial number. I am a messenger from he who must
not be named.”
“Welcome back O’Neill. The perfect crime. Join the SEALs, reassume your rank of
SargentMajor, and then defect to a mercenary uprising. I must applaud my planning
skills.”
One of the soldiers looked back and forth anxiously. Bergan was tapped on his shoulder
by the man behind him and told of the wary traveler. Bergan knew what was about to
happen.
“Kill him.” He quietly whispered back. “No one is allowed to know of this, not even the
President. He is on the “do not call” list.”
Three of his mercenaries walked towards the scheming soldier but it was too late.
The SEAL bolted into a sprint but was caught by the bullet of the sniper thirty feet behind
Bergan. He was caught squarely in the teeth as the bullet traveled upward and through the
cerebellum. His body flew into the side of the ship, arms flailing. Another soldier began
to move but was stopped by Sergeant O’Neill.
“Stop Nikolas! I am not going to lose my men to stubborn resistance!! You will stay right
where you are!!”
Nikolas called back, a distraught face bunched up into anger, “But sir! I…why…” He
stood his ground as his face turned to anger.
“I know that he was your brother, but he decided to flee. I cannot allow leaks. Your
brother failed me…do not join him.”
Nikolas dropped his arms to his side and quickly raised one of the stun grenades attached
to his pouch, pin in hand.
O’Neill shouted, “Do not shoot. I am not losing another.”
“You’ll rue the day you crossed me and my family…O’Neill.”
Bergan stepped forward, “Calm down…Nikolas. Don’t be hasty. Your brother was a threat
to national security.”
Nikolas became enraged and pulled the pin, but left the handle in the disarmed
configuration. “You are a threat to the security of my family.” He slowly moved his hand
until he felt the handle release. 1…2…
“Don’t do this. You should know better than to release your grip.” O’Neill calmly added.
“I already have.” Nikolas closed his eyes as the grenade went off. FLASH!!!!!
Everyone closed their eyes and covered their ears but Nikolas did not join them. He flew
into the water as the sniper tried to take him out. Nikolas could hear nothing as a result of
the blast. His vision was fine but impaired by the dark water rising above his forehead.
I will avenge my brother O’Neill. Both you and your traitorous friend will both burn in
hell.
He swam to the bottom of the river as the bullets began flying. He swam for what seemed
like hours. In actuality, it was three minutes before he came back up slowly, the tanker in
the distance picking up speed. He quietly panted as he swam his way to the nearest exit.
He needed to call command.
The grenade went off and everyone covered their eyes and ears but Nikolas did not join
them. He was on his way to the bottom of the Hudson river. After the effects wore off,
Bergan and the others called for a sweep of the water. After about two minutes and fifty
feet of downstream progress, Bergan called off the search. He’d just have to allow him to
get away.
“Damn!” he cursed as he called away the other two SEALs to the cold cellar in the bow.
They could be kept with David and Rob. O’Neill and Bergan headed back to the bridge.
“Brock, it seems that the COBRAS are alive again.”
“Yes Wesley and Charles is waiting for us in Zanzibar. Elson won’t be making it.”
O’Neill snickered, “Why would he? He is head of the CIA. There is no need for him to
join our “pithy” group again.”
“Whatever…as long as our cargo makes it to Africa safely.” Bergan added cautiously.
“Can frozen people cry? And if so, are their tears icy?”
“Only if they can cry. Hudson made his choice. If he wants to be more than human, let
him. After all, the desire to be immortal is all too human.” Bergan calmed down.
“Indeed, all too human…”
Wet your whistle
Calvin threw a towel around his naked form and looked in the mirror. It was fogged over.
He opened the door into his bedroom and waited for the air to flow out. In the meantime,
he marched over to his clothes chest and drew out his necessities. He dressed and walked
into the now cool bathroom to brush his hair and teeth.
April stood with her head on the wall to her side. She just soaked in the heat and the
warmth. The water seemed to cover her in a clear piece of heated cloth. The steam was
her robe. She felt her heart rate perk a bit as the warmth woke her up and massaged her
muscles. Her eyes had been aching from all the typing and now she could rest them.
Calvin finished his bathroom chores and headed into the kitchen really quick to make sure
his bags were in order. He saw his dad preparing supper.
“You’re home early.” He gave his dad a hug.
“Getting ready for school?”
“Yes. We finished the project.”
“And she is staying overnight if I remember?”
“Yep. I believe she is preparing for bed. I heard the water running so I presumed she was
taking a shower.”
“Okay. Just be ready for tomorrow.”
“I will.” He wanted to make sure everything was ready for the morning. He’d ask April if
she had packed yet.
“Goodnight dad. You get some sleep.”
“Goodnight.” Dr. Livingston set down his plate and turned on the TV.
Calvin’s mom had gotten up at the sound of voices downstairs.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Dad.”
“He’s home?”
“Yeah. Didn’t ask. I am just glad he is home.”
“I’m going to talk to him. You get to sleep.”
“Sure thing. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
His mother walked down the stairs and struck up a conversation with her husband.
Calvin walked to the guest room upstairs and knocked twice. He heard the shower water
still running so he left her alone.
He strode back to his room and lay on his bed, having turned out the lights. He began to
think about the day and was amused to fin it the most memorable he had ever
experienced. Only his sentimental memories of his family rivaled it. He began to doze
off.
April shut the hot water off and reached for her towel. She slung it around herself and
noticed the fogged mirror. She gently opened the door. The air escaped as she took one of
the hand towels and wiped away the fog. Using her hands would dirty the mirror.
Her toiletries lay in front of her. She brushed her hair and teeth, dried her hair using the
towel and then brushed it again. Once she was finished, she walked out into the room and
noted that the door was still shut. She felt safe in here.
She grabbed her bag of clothing and took out her necessities. She attached her bra and
slid into her underwear. Next were her pajama pants and shirt. She wanted to know if the
project was ready to go in the morning so she strolled across to Calvin’s open door. She
saw that the lights were out so she entered. Noting that he was asleep, she walked
downstairs to grab a glass of water. She heard noises coming from the kitchen so she
carefully descended. Mrs. Livingston began walking up. “Need something to drink?” She
asked as was her custom.
“Yeah. I’ll get it though. It shouldn’t be that hard.”
“All right. Sleep well. We’ll need to get up early for the bus.”
“Goodnight.” April finished walking downstairs.
“You are Dr. Livingston, I presume? You probably get that a lot?”
“Yeah.” He said as he finished chewing his food.
“I am April Holt.” She held out her hand. He shook it after using the napkin.
“I am Calvin’s father.”
“I heard Calvin say that you usually get home around this time.”
“A little later usually. It was a slow night tonight.”
“That should be a good thing.”
“It is. If people aren’t hurting themselves….yes that is a good thing.”
“I just came down to get some water. Where are the cups?”
“Shelf right next to the refrigerator.” She opened the cabinet and removed one cup.
“Be sure to use a coaster.” Dr. Livingston added.
“I will.” The cup filled with water and April began to leave the room.
“It was nice meeting you. Good night.”
“To meet the bus, Calvin has to get up early. Be sure to get to bed soon.
“I will.” She headed up the stairs and into her room, remembering the coaster. She used
one of her CD cases.
For finality to the day, she moved the sheets and climbed underneath them. She realized
that Calvin had not been lying. The bed was indeed comfy.
She dozed off soon thereafter.
Robbed of sleep
The sound of the door opening into the heating room woke both David and Rob.
“I wonder if Bergan has come to get us out of this icy sauna?” Rob stood up and
stretched, yawning as well.
“There are more than two people in there.” The door opened and four soldiers walked in
escorting two chained soldiers.
“There are 2 people in here.” Rob quipped.
“Whatever…” David sat back down as the two prisoners were walked into the room and
set onto the beds.
“Sorry David, Rob. We can’t let you two roam the ship just yet. Keep these two company.
Don’t unshackle them or give them anything but food and drink. They’re professionals.”
With that brief entrance, they exited. The door shut and relocked, closing them off yet
again from the real world.
“Don’t stay too long. We need our rest…ughhh.” Rob walked in circles, expressing his
frustrations at being cooped up in a strange room on a strange ship accompanied by
strange professionals.
David sat down next to one of the chained men, “Who you guys with? Army, Navy,
Marines?”
Silence.
“Okay. Since you guys feel like not talking, we will just ignore ya’. So Rob, do you want
to see if they have a deck of cards in here? Maybe they will have a paper clip or some
other item to be used as a lockpick.” He looked at the two soldiers. Hey, whatever floats
this boat.
They began searching the cabinets.
The dead SEAL began to move his arms, as if he were still alive. A groan escaped his
lips.
“Major? I think we have a live one.” One of the PMCs called out.
“Seems we didn’t kill him. Too bad. He was too weak to stand up to me. He had to run
and tell the others of my infidelity.” He asked for a gun. Someone handed him a USP. He
didn’t want to approach a live SEAL without backup. SEALS have been known to be the
strongest bunch of fighters, surviving round after round.
Bergan walked up and kicked the SEAL over. The SEAL slowly formed his words, his
time running short. “Infidelity is the rebellion against faith. May God have mercy on
you.” He reached for his fragmentation grenade, knowing full well he would never reach
it. Bergan laughed and pulled the trigger. Everyone stared at him with glaring eyes.
“To be faithful, you must rebel against all that there is to put faith in. Only then is one’s
heart pure enough to accept the full grace of the Lord.” A new strange spirit walked on
the bridge several hundred feet behind Bergan. Beware Brock Bergan. COBRA is a
faithful organization. You stepped over the line once before and were forgiven.
Forgiveness, unfortunately, can never be bestowed a second time. The next instance of
infidelity to the Lord’s ideals and Brock Bergan…you will have to find another God. He
will not tolerate anymore of your atrocious ideals.
Bergan felt a slight twinge of guilt, inflicted by the strange spirit behind him. The spirit
smiled victoriously, knowing this to be another success to add to his already burgeoning
pile. I am the Regret Brock, and I am now your enemy. Prepare for your death.
Bergan and O’Neill watched as the cargo ship headed into Manhattan harbor.
“Reminds me of war. Advancing one wave at a time.” O’Neill noted.
“You always liked words.” Bergan reminisced.
“We all did. But none enjoyed words as much as Elson. That is why he entered the
bureaucracy. Needed something more enjoyable than this boring job.” O’Neill added.
“Hey Doug. Set the ship three degrees to the south please.” Bergan kept checking the
GPS and the map.
“Yes sir.” Doug set the computer for three degrees to the south and turned on the
autopilot.
“I’m off to bed. You guys watch until morn. Can ya’?” The captain began to turn in.
“Sure, go ahead. We won’t be having any visitors.”
Nikolas had called the agency and they had just sent for him. He sat quietly in the back of
the Suburban, reflecting on the loss he had incurred tonight. The drive to Langley would
take five to six hours.
He closed his eyes.
“So Brock. We stand here, yet again, about to wreak more havoc. Is the target the same as
last time?”
“Wesley? You have known me since Johnson’s administration. Since when has the target
not been New York?”
“Since we decided to oust Kruschev. It’s been years since we have fought together. People
change once they leave the COBRAS.”
“But the aging never begins. My looks betray my age. I was thirty when we toppled
Kruschev.”
“Are the new recruits going to visit him as well?” O’Neill asked Brock.
“Everyone has to visit the Dhumavarna upon entry into COBRA. It is sacred ritual.”
“Eddie chose the sniper and you chose the politically influenced. Why choose the one
with the mental disorder?”
“He has a relationship with the sniper, David. It allows for a tighter sense of trust and
security. Mental disorders don’t exist Wesley.” Bergan explained his decision on choosing
Rob.
“So when you say “relationship”, do you mean…um?”
“No...it is nothing like Harrold and Gerome. That would just creep me out.” Bergan said
with disgust.
“Oh good. The last thing we need is another gay schizo…”
“Gerome did good until the PTSD took hold. And Harrold too. But the sex just creeped
me out.” Bergan dropped his head, staring at the GPS again. They were right on track.
“COBRA is finally on the path to revenge.” Wesley closed his fist in anger.
Bergan looked up with a face of ridicule. “Don’t celebrate just yet. We still have to make
it home to the artifact. To the home of the COBRAS.”
Tears of the Frozen
Nikolas’s car reached Langley, the gate opening. He opened his eyes after hours of sleep
filled dreaming. Nightmares to be precise. But what did a trip to the CIA matter? What
would they do to console him? A military burial? I know so. The telling of truth to his
family? I know not.
Brock Bergan stood quietly on the deck of his subscribed cargo ship some five hours
later. Wesley slept in the chair.
The door creaked and Bergan turned to see Kenneth Stanley come in, his obvious lack of
sleep betraying his forced grin.
“What’s up Ken?” Bergan knew what was wrong.
“You know I have no sea legs. I’ve been up fighting my overwhelming urge to puke.”
“Would you rather be with the atomic technicians guarding the nuke?” Bergan posed a
question.
“Sorry sir. Just a little tired from the struggle in my stomach.”
“Have a seat, maybe a point of reference will anchor your stomach problems.” Bergan
stood from the captain’s seat and stretched. “What problem drove you up here Stanley?
You’ve been seasick since the moment we got on the boat. Why did you really come up
here?”
“I was checking on the frozen specimens and…”
Bergan jumped up and ran for the phone. “Roger that Ken.”
“But I haven’t finished telling you yet.”
“Did those two twits not turn down the temperature?” Bergan asked a question he already
knew the answer to.
“Yes, they did. The real reason I am standing before you is to ask you why we are doing
this? Is it not immoral to freeze live humans and then just expect them to reanimate once
defrosted?”
Now it makes more sense. I thought his seasickness was a bit over dramatized. He’s got a
problem with our operation.
“Kenneth, will you step outside with me.” He walked over and opened the door to the
outside, the cool breeze flowing in clean, salty air.
Captain Nikolas Rastovski. ExPrivate Mercenary, and formerly of the Spetsnas division
of GRU. Currently an American citizen and aged at 38. Was paired with the leaders of
four other SEAL teams, one of them a brother, and sent on the mission of acquiring
information from one Michael Bernard Bergan.
Elson set the papers down as Nikolas sat down. All I have to do is promise this kid the
world and my little secret remains a secret.
“Captain Rastovski, I deeply apologize for the loss of a great soldier, your brother. He was
as important to our country as to you. His faithful service to his country will not be
forgotten. The President has already informed his next of kin and has promised them a
compensation.”
Nikolas was still weary. “What was the cover story this time, if I may so kindly ask?”
Elson had already planned for this. “No stories. President Ridgemont told his wife that he
was killed while on a domestic assignment in New York. “
“But you did not specify as to what the mission was or when it occurred?” Nikolas spoke
to himself. He knew the military could not do that.
“Of course not. You know the rules. Plus, we only have satellite imaging to go by. We as a
country have no idea what actually took place on that tanker.” Elson lied through his
teeth. He had posted a team to survey the ship using highly sensitive microphones. The
metal on a ship does wonders for vibrations. The rain drowned out a majority of dialogue
but from what they could hear, the COBRAS were back in business. This was bad, to be
blunt.
“Mr. Rastovski, how would you like to lead a team into Africa on a follow up? We have to
acquire Brock Bergan at all costs.”
“I’d love to.” Nikolas began planning his revenge.
“Now Kenneth, you understand that we are mere years away from creating super soldiers.
I chose you because the unique agricultural ideas you had for maximizing crop output.
We, as in our group, have a plan to create a stable republic in the heart of Africa. Problem
is, agricultural policies there are weak and cliché. We need a variety of ideas and theories
to help assure the stability of the population. We cannot have starvation in our country.”
“But why did you assign me to the frozen men and women?”
“Because you have worked with bacteria and other ground organisms. We want to know
how they regenerate despite days or even weeks of deactivation. If a virus can do it, so
can all other forms of life. I understand the theory that viral infections are caused by
things many call “nonliving”. In my opinion, anything that can reproduce is living. Your
research will be funded and as soon as these men and women are reanimated, we can fund
a project of your choosing.”
“I can’t because I don’t trust you. I know that the minute those people are reanimated, you
will immediately train them to be heartless killing machines. But I hate to burst your
bubble and drown your fantasy by telling you some unsettling news. Reanimations among
viruses are triggered by minute chemical changes in the human body. The human body
itself is a giant organism composed of a multitude of cellular compositions. You would
have to reanimate each cell one by one in order to get the human to run again. Plus, the
tissue has already begun to disintegrate due to immune deficiency. The immune system is
not just protection against viral and bacterial invaders. It also helps maintain homeostasis
by keeping cells strong and finding problem areas to mop up. It is a negative feedback
system that requires full body function. You’d have to jumpstart the immune system above
all else. Then the circulatory and pulmonary systems. The digestive system would be next
but I must tell you of the difficulty and severity of this task you charge me with. No man
has ever brought another back from the dead. Only God has been known to give life.”
“Kenneth, if you won’t try…I’ll find someone who will. I am aiming for the stars here,
quit pulling me back to earth.” Bergan quietly intoned.
“Man does not belong among the stars. The earth is his home.” Kenneth added.
“I always pegged you as too down to earth.” Bergan finished and walked back inside. The
rain slowed as the ship lunged deeper into the waves of the ocean. Kenneth shook the
water out of his hair, the rain reaching a drizzle.
Deep rubble
Charles Hagan had received the call from Bergan. His feet found the window and opened
it. (Note: Not with his feet.) His eyes watched the moon dipping into the sky. 4 AM. Night
sky clear. All is well.
He pulled out a cigarette and placed it into his mouth. He walked back inside quickly to
grab his jacket. The bed was missing one of its inhabitants. The other one slept soundly,
her hair draping over the pillow like a curtain.
See you at dawn Vanessa.
He walked up to the window and closed the screen to keep the bugs out.
He then tread slowly back over to the door of his room and exited, leaving the curtain of
the night and the chair invisible.
Bergan set the phone down, cleared his throat as Kenneth came back in defeated.
“Head up kid. I apologize for being so harsh. Come here.” Kenneth came over and stood
in front of his Major. Bergan knelt down and grabbed the orphan’s hands. ”Kenneth? I
understand your need for an authority figure. I was an orphan all my own. Me and
Charles spent days playing football outside and hide and seek inside. Then President
Kennedy showed up and changed it all. He brought adoptive parents to our orphanage and
Charles and I found our ways into a real home in Colorado. But these parents were on
Kennedy’s campaign contributions list. We were being setup to join the military. A
perfect crime many still call the Boulder affair.
I named my very mercenary group after the city I had called my home as an orphan.
People call it the Boulder affair because Boulder, Colorado was the first on the list. Start
in the middle and work your way West. Many orphans were adopted into the Boulder plan
and the majority made their way into the United States Military. A clever plan that got
orphans into a productive society. We were armies without a family, a country, and
nothing to hold us back. No material possessions and no ill received love. We were taught
the strict and disciplined techniques of our forefathers. When we did well, we were
rewarded. I learned, to the dismay of my adoptive family, that life is more than just rules
and regulations though. I met a strange old man named Eddie. He headed an ancient
military group who operated in the dense forest of the African continent. His group was
the first of the mercenaries. They date back to times when man kept records of solar
positions. The COBRAS have existed for thousands of years and have wiped out
countless civilizations. Roman, Prussian, Babylonian, Ottoman, Russian, English, and
German civilizations have all been affected by our powerful venom. We first brought
down the Egyptians and then the Assyrians. Greece was smart but too smart. They
weren’t brutal enough to defeat the COBRAS. Be an army without a country Kenneth.
Ideals are weaker than ideas. An ideal is inflexible whereas ideas bend to the perspective
of the inventor.” Bergan had stood in the middle of his speech and now had his arms
cocked and in absurd positions. He was blabbering on and on. Kenneth soaked it all up
and rejected it. He knew his speeches were the result of his time period. A time period
where problems were sorted out by long, overwritten speeches that rivaled the brevity of
Polonius.
He walked Kenneth on a tour of the boat and gave an overwrought explanation of the
COBRAS. Kenneth just listened and filtered the information. To Bergan, the history of
the COBRAS was so vast and heroic that Kenneth would understand the viewpoint.
COBRAS always question themselves and the world. The only weakness to this advantage
over other military units lies solely in its logic. Too much questioning can lead to the fate
of Hamlet.
Hagan walked into the computer room and flipped the light switch on. Early bird catches
the worm. He hoped there were no worm clusters incubating in the computers. He always
came down here when he felt bored. Just read and read until he felt tired. That way, he
always had something to keep him busy. He’d read of philosophy, cooking recipes, or
even the day’s news. Everything from trivial minutiae to the grand chaos theory. It didn’t
matter so long as it kept him busy thinking. He hated idling. Since Vanessa joined the
COBRAS, she would venture with him into the search of knowledge. Thirty years they’d
kept it up. They were like Adam and Eve traveling out of Eden, waiting to learn. The very
sin of partaking in knowledge is oblivious to most but understood by the intelligent.
Information is the root of all problems.
We learn, we store, and then we forget. Do we learn to forget? Of course…some
information is considered by many to be hazardous to your health. If only mankind knew
what the COBRAS have done for history. They went from being an army without a
country to a mercenary for hire corporation that was bribed into joining the US Military.
Then the debauchery began as is expected of those with fear of a greater power. Power
breeds desire for life and life breeds desire for power. The COBRAS were different
however. They always pledged to integrity and never sold themselves outright. It was
Brock Bergan who freed the COBRAS from the ranks of American hierarchy. He pledged
allegiance to the flag of man and the great history that flag has. He was faithful to man’s
creator, the Lord, and kept true to the ideologies he was required to follow. He may have
killed and murdered but it was for the greater good. He understood that his sins made
passage into heaven impossible. He would gladly accept eternal damnation out of respect
for his Almighty God. Hagan felt Bergan a bit extreme but he followed in the footsteps of
Commander Ross, so nothing seemed suspicious. Then came Elson and his strange
methods. The ability to disappear from any situation quietly and effectively kept him an
elusive individual. He could assume any identity at any moment in time with or without
preparation. He could do so just by the very pronunciation of a first or last name. Jerrold
Elson was a true COBRA, dead and buried.
Hagan searched the Internet for more interesting tidbits of information. Mad Cow disease
halts beef production…Anniversary of Abe Lincoln’s Assassination passes by without
acknowledgement….Sony pledges to defeat the Apple iPod….and many other articles
filled with senseless filler and ridiculous speculation. Economics was no longer a genuine
gamble…it was a game. Economics is a game where the winner remains the person who
can break all the rules while still upholding them. Senseless filler. Useless and trivial
attempts at making everyday life seem more significant than it really is. Why does life
have to be epic? Can’t life just be a reserved time of reflection where we put the pieces of
a puzzle together to understand ourselves better? Should we not revel in all that we’ve
done positively and be ashamed of the atrocities we’ve committed? Life is now a
senseless and ridiculous amusement park filled with candy coatings and upsidedown
roller coasters. Are people really so simple as infants? Do they need constant attention
and supervision? The world is horribly confused and it will be COBRA yet again that will
come in and clean the world of appeasers. For it will be the appeasers who gain the
gratification and not those being appeased. Politics now determine the next new fad…
Hagan had read of countless research experiments that should have been publicized more.
Asch and Milgrim both proved to the world just how conformity and authority could have
drastic consequences on the potential of a human being.
Nikolas stood and thanked Elson for giving him a second chance at Bergan.
“I will free my comrades and return them home safely. It is now my responsibility.” He
said before shaking Elson’s hand and walking out the door. Elson smiled and sat down,
brushing his legs to lose anxiety. He now would have to wait until Ridgemont could get
over here. He surveyed the room, the paintings on the wall. They were all composed by
actual members of the CIA who had artistic talent. Some of them were directors while the
rest belonged to the dedicated specialists. I’ll take a nap on the couch. It should charge me
up for the inevitable diatribe he would almost certainly ignore.
If there were a list of things government was good at, censure would be at the very top.
Good Morning America
“And now for the 7:00 news at 6:45. A search is commencing in the suburbs of Atlanta,
Georgia today after the son of Robert and Cindy Clark of Buckhead failed to return home
from a friend’s house. The car in his possession has yet to be found. We go to our own…”
“Calvin!” Calvin’s mother called him downstairs as the story went on television. The
Clarks had called yesterday asking for Rob’s location but they had no idea. He had left
early in the morning on Sunday before they had returned from church.
Calvin descended the stairs, his book bag on his back. “They started the search?” He
asked her with no surprise. He did not understand why Rob had just vanished. First
David, now Rob. But Rob had been unprovoked…as far as he knew. He had known about
Boulder but he had thought the Clarks had known as well.
April walked into the kitchen, her smile radiant. “Good morning.”
“Sleep well?” Mrs. Livingston asked.
“Definitely. Where is Dr. Livingston?” She asked.
“Already left for work.” (I do not know when your father leaves for work Landon…just
guessing.)
“Wow. He must not sleep much.” She felt special to have slept as long as she had.
“He makes up for it at the hospital. They give him time for a nap.” Calvin added.
“Oh okay. I know some people though who can live on four hours of sleep.”
“April, is the project still upstairs?” Calvin butted in for just one second. His father’s day
today operations could be explained in the car. April sped up the stairs.
Rob’s mother began speaking on the TV, “We have received a letter from him stating that
he has left with a company that has pledged to take honest care of him. That’s all we
know.”
Calvin sort of felt like he knew. “Is Mary ready?” Calvin asked.
“She’s coming. You know she takes her time.” His mother handed him the keys. He was
going to drive them to the bus stop. He had to practice sometime.
“Thank you…you know how much I love driving?” He remarked as he headed towards
the door. As he tuned the handle, his mother called out. Her face was fixed to the TV.
“Get used to driving Calvin. It’s the only method of travel. I will not have my son taking
the bus his whole life.”
“Yeah Calvin. How are we going to go out if you can’t drive?” April came back down the
stairs with the project.
“Even she agrees. You may not listen to me but she will definitely make you listen.”
Calvin slung his backpack onto his shoulders. “It is inevitable, I guess. I am going to start
it now.”
Calvin opened the door to the garage and closed it behind him, stepping down the stairs
cautiously. He may have been able to lift it, but the bag on his back made him feel off
balance. Calvin threw his bag into the middle of the car. He then slid the key into the
ignition.
“Start the car…check.”
April opened the side door on the minivan and slid the project in. Calvin got out and
pushed the garage door button. The far Left door opened.
“Put it in the back.” He opened the back door to the Chrysler.
“She grabbed it and put it back there. She then went to gather her other belongings at the
foot of the stairs.
“Those can go back here as well.” He then shut the door.
Mary came out carrying her stuff followed by Calvin’s mother. They all piled into the car
and headed to the bus stop.
President Ridgemont sat in the office of Jerrold Elson, angry. Angry that he now had to
deal with a revolutionary and a defector.
Elson walked in with a stack of folders, all classified.
He set them on the desk and nodded to the President. He had made sure to look as if he’d
stayed up all night. He had not and ended up sleeping on the couch across the room.
“Here is everything on the COBRAS from 19351994.” Elson kept a closed face. He knew
there was incriminating evidence purposefully removed for security purposes. The
President did not need to know everything.
“Jerrold, just explain to me why I was not informed of the relationship between Brock
Bergan and Wesley O’Neill.”
“Sir, they did work together to bring down the Atlanta sniper last fall. It had been a while
since they had worked in tandem. I’ll give you the short brief. I’ll give you the history of
the COBRAS in oral format as the papers are not in our possession. You’ll have to check
the Kennedy Libraries.” Elson sat down, ready to drone.
“Roosevelt knew that the US would inevitably be involved in the war so he put together a
council to decide how best to train efficient soldiers in as quick a manner as possible. The
council decided to form a permanent unit of the military from an older mercenary group
called the COBRA unit to train and ultimately aid the fight against the Axis powers.”
“Who was the leader?” Ridgemont inquired, absorbing the mouthful.
Elson countered with a lie, “The files have all been “trashed”. I have no authority to
access them. These files belong to them, the community of intellectuals.”
Ridgemont raised his eyebrows, “I understand that there are some files that require the
unanimous agreement of all the CIA interdirectors, but I need to know the name of the
original leader of the COBRAS.”
“I would guess it to be the President as they only responded directly to him. They were an
army without a country. They were the greatest mercs America had to offer. Spanish
American war, Mexican War, Civil War. Some of the guys were ancient history. Some
were young and eager but with extraordinary intellect. Some were even rumored to be
paranormal. They scouted out the cities for the dropping of the Atomic weapon. They
were paratroopers in Overlord. They even had Mussolini assassinated by encouraging a
mob. These people were cutthroat. They disappeared after the war and are perceived as
the ones sent by President Eisenhower and Truman to screw with Stalin’s head. That did
not work out to our advantage after Stalin initiated the Great Purge. Kennedy sent them
into Vietnam to explore possible bombing targets. Three of them were killed. COBRA
expanded during Kennedy’s administration upon the addition of Mormon orphans from
Colorado and Utah. This is how Bergan and O’Neill joined as they were in the Boulder
orphanage that gained the namesake of the project. COBRA was an elite unit that was a
branch of the military all its own. But to join it, soldiers had to prove themselves in one of
the officially listed branches such as Army or Navy. O’Neill joined the SEALs, Bergan
the Army, and the man from a few months ago, Hagan, joined the Marines. We found his
bandanna inside that Catholic Church in Atlanta. After Vietnam, COBRA kept a close eye
on China and the USSR. During the sixties the COBRAS became a mercenary group
once again under the supervision of former general Edward Ross. Some speculative
ventures and conspiracy theories say they started the Cuban Missile Crisis by defecting to
the Soviet Union and alerting Khrushchev to the missiles in Turkey. Other theories have
them as the reason we defeated Saddam in less than two days. Rumor has it that they
attacked Clinton for his reduction in military spending so Clinton then put a can on the
whole unit through investigations and Congressional support for peace. Their contracts
were canceled and the unit dispelled angrily, vowing revenge. Now the original COBRAS
want to join forces again, to arm themselves against America and install themselves as a
mercenary country. We already have them pegged to the DRC. The Congan military is
harboring them as allies of the state. The DRC is rumored to submit to the COBRAS will
and rename itself. Possible names include Zaire or even Zanzibar.”
“So COBRA is a threat to National Security?” The President asked.
Elson dropped his subtle circumlocution and just bluntly said, “Sir, not only are they a
threat to national security, they are a threat to the world. The COBRAS are indestructible
once united. We have to act now before their new trainees are outfitted. Our intelligence
has given us a time limit. Six months…we have six months until the chaos begins.”
“Thank you Jerrold. I’ll update the Joint Chiefs and slip the press some bad news about
the COBRAS should they make a public announcement. Keep in touch, you’re a good
man.” With that the President stood up and walked out with the briefs.
The door shut, leaving the silence once again. I shall soon have your job Mr. President.
And then, nothing can stop us…the COBRAS from taking back our throne.
Calvin’s mother and sister joined him and with that, he put the car in reverse and exited
the garage. “Buckle up.” He requested nicely as the engine shifted into drive. They went
off to the bus and with it went Calvin’s questions. He wanted to forget that Rob had
disappeared. He wanted to arrive home Friday to his stupid grin. But this would not
happen for many months. The story of Rob and Calvin does not truly begin until ten years
later.
Shipping school
Monday, April 25, 2005: 7:46 AM: 100 miles off of the US Coast.
David woke up early around 6 and just sat brooding.
“COuldn’t sleep long either?”
“No…it is kind of hard to.” David decided to just lay back down in dark.
“Nightmares?” Rob asked.
“No. Dreams mostly. It is that day. It keeps looping in my brain, but in a third person
perspective. It seems as though what I perceived as happening drastically deviates from
the original truth. It is not the guilt that has overcome me it is the questions. How could I
have done things differently? The reason I have this dream is because I want to reintegrate
into society. But I can’t with this looming demon on me. I think that this questioning of
my motives will eventually lead to guilt.”
“Eventually?” Rob stared at the ceiling.
“I hope so. I think guilt brings me salvation. It will let me know that I am human.”
“You are human David. I think you do have guilt but it is not a result of the killing. I think
you feel guilt towards yourself. You are angry with yourself for eliminating your chance
of a normal, happy life. Your choices have made you a runaway and you do not like that.
You feel the guilt of knowing that many people make asides about your parents because
of your decisions. You are angry at yourself for putting them through this…but this is
because you love them. You miss them don’t you?” Rob asked the hardest easy question.
“Yes. If you weren’t here Rob, I’d swear I’d become a villain.”
“I’m glad I’m here then. Let me be the villain.”
“You always aspired to be. You miss your parents?” David felt the need for conversation.
He did not want to be alone in missing his family.
“No.” Rob’s reply was curt and alarmingly dispassionate.
“Excuse me?” David sat up.
“There is no need to miss them. They’ll be there when I come back. Otherwise, I see no
need to miss them. I’ve lived with them since I was born. I have their image in my head to
keep me company. I am ready to experience the world as it is. I don’t want to sit down at
night and watch the TV spew out what it wants me to perceive. I felt trapped in the
system, even though that system was granting me advancing responsibility. But those
responsibilities are weak and ridiculous. They are menial and pithy. They are the lowest
of the low. DO I need to keep going?”
“No. I just though you’d have a bit more compassion for your family.” David was the
murderer here and yet Rob seemed even more wretched. Rob wouldn’t kill out of
vengeance. He was the kind who saw no guilt. He experienced it but ignored it. Guilt was
a weakness he saw fit to destroy. What better way to wither an opponent that by ignoring
him in the prison of your own mind?
“I do have compassion for my family. I just see no need for it to weigh me down. Altruism
is a weakness I think. It breeds favoritism. But what if someone in your family is not fit to
live? Should they not perish to save humanity?”
“You are sick.” David began to see himself differently. Maybe he wasn’t so different from
the others?
“No. People die…David. The reason people fear it is beyond me. It is more natural than
living itself because living requires work. Dying…just happens. The miracle that is life
should be preserved but why taint it with dirty people and ideas. Many of the world’s
worst could easily be weeded out at a young age. And yet we let them live…to murder,
rape, betray, molest, squander, steal, and be greedy. I am sick? Contrary to popular
thought, compared with the rest of the world, I’m a saint!”
“How can you be a saint!?” David stood up.
“Easily thought out. I haven’t killed anyone yet, have I?”
David sat down immediately. “But I have guilt connected with my murder. It sounds like
you would never grieve.”
“Grieving is for the weak. If I am fated to kill, so be it. I was chosen for my mission. If
God deems me a murderer, so be it. Maybe I am the false prophet to teach everyone
lesson? Ever thought about that David? What if there was someone so evil, it would
reverse the sins of man? A man like me David has no reason to live. He sees nothing good
with the system and yet he breathes in the air every day. Why would a loather of this
world retain himself in this universe?”
“…”
“I’ll take that silence for a question.”
“…”
“Well, it seems that I have a point. Otherwise, your plane of intellect would have shot me
down by now. And please don’t give me any of that bullshit about not listening! I know
you are listening! You have to be because there is nothing else in this goddamn room to
listen to! I am not a prophet of spirit David. I am not planning to save the world. I am
planning to save the heart of mankind.”
“Does mankind have a heart?” David asked, wondering aloud how something general
could be personified.
“He has to have one. I feel it beating.” Rob lay still. The sounds of the door opening
outside brought joy to David and Rob.
As they stood up, the Major walked forward and outstretched his hand, offering a
consoling gesture of gratitude for the weary circumstances they had suffered. “I want you
boys to understand just how grateful I am that you stayed down here. But come out now
and peer at the sun and its radiating beauty. We’ll leave the two uninvited guests in here.”
Bergan shook Rob’s and then David’ hand.
The glint in Bergan’s eye betrayed a different emotion. He seemed edgy and unnerved and
it showed through his calm exterior.
“Thank you sir. We’d love to head to the surface. I tried to sleep but the cold stares of the
captured held me from dreaming.” Rob solemnly quoted.
“Shut up Rob. You always try to make goofy oneliners and you always fail.”
Rob smiled an evil smile, “I only fail in the eyes of the many. But who is to say that the
many are right?”
David and Rob walked out the door and headed up to the surface.
Hagan opened his eyes and tilted his neck. It was stiff. “Ouch!” he groaned as he slowly
sat up from a few hours rest. He had made his way to the couches lining the break room.
(Author’s note: I seem to have many scenes with couches in them. Is that something I
need to fix?)
Vanessa Pritchard had strolled in and was peering down at a computer screen. She had
been left in charge of border patrol. She kept the border army in high spirits and willing
to secure their small nation. “Vanessa? What is so damned important as to warrant your
attention this early in the morning?” Hagan strolled out of the break room and through the
door next to the glass windows. He began to tidy up and button his shirt, then tucking it
in. He straightened his tie and matted down his hair. The beard growing on his face just
happens to be the result of his authoritative control of this facility. Until Major Bergan
returned, Zanzibar was his.
Vanessa looked up from her glasses looking so cute. Hagan checked her over again and
again. She seemed to radiate power and desire. “Can I ask as to what could possibly be
running through your mind, sir?”
“At least you had the respect of ignoring my American prestige. The Marines are dead to
me now. Once Bergan has served a purpose, so is he.”
“Quit talking like that! You keep blabbering on as if you wanted someone to hear. What
the hell is wrong with you?” Vanessa put her arm on her hip.
“Bergan and I both understand enmity. He is a man of the past. America is still in his
heart. People like him cannot exist as leaders. Especially as leaders of revolutionaries; his
focused ideology breeds complacency. The American government has sunk into the curse
of all republics. The passage of time is all that separates America from the doom of
Rome. Bergan wants to save his precious pride. A country’s honor will become its pride.
Once honor gives into pride, individuals feel empowered and they will find a new novlty
to toy around with. A new generation has to meet the growing expectations of a long list
of obscene rules and regulations intended for the sole purpose of extracting money. It will
be a large sum of money used for wars, political campaigns, senseless surveillance, and
armed insurrections. The last one being the only sensible use for the money. Vanessa…
how many times must I tell you that we must rid the world of the quick fix? Nothing
broken is fixed by magic. Whenever a law of physics is broken, it never repairs itself for
thousands of years. This planet used to be piping hot, filled with hot magma and steam.
Now, you can visit the north or south poles and freeze your butt off. You understand?
Nothing lasts forever. Governments falter or surrender, people submit or rebel,
theologians conform or go radical, loyal soldiers commit to armed uprisings. Do you see
a pattern? What once was normal has lost its flavor. The “ADD”, if you will, of the world
seems to have come to a crippling standpoint. On what achievement has the whole of
mankind based their future on? Answer me Vanessa.” Hagan searched the room, eyeing
the answers to his question.
“I have no idea Charles.” Vanessa glared back. Knowing another tirade would crop up
seemed to be her special talent.
“That paper shredder there holds the key.” Hagan smiled.
“What?! Mankind’s reliance on security has torn it apart? I would never have known! Oh
Charles hold me! I cannot bear the brunt of the answer! Oh woe is me. Are you fucking
insane? Security has been around since before Moses heard the first testaments of God.
Get to the point! I have work to do.” She was in no mood to hear philosophy from a
soldier. They barely understood it anyhow.
“No, the idea that a paper shredder represents is not the point. Security is necessary to
maintain order and balance. What do you think the COBRAS have done the past six
millennia? We most certainly weren’t fighting for governments!”
“Then what have you been fighting for? I’ll have to hear this sooner or later Charles.
Sooner is better than in bed.”
“It’s Technology! Technology has always been the right hand of man in much the same
way as man is at the right hand of God. But when God relied too much on man, man
failed him and thus we were cast away as sinners in a dry, arid land. Now technology has
reached that summit. This whole room is a testament to human ignorance. We all
understand that without commands and electricity, a computer is as worthless as an Ed
Wood movie on sale. Pulling New York City, London, Shanghai, Buenos Aires, or Tokyo
off their respective electrical circuits is equivalent to pulling the rug out from underneath
Atlas. If electricity fails, the world falls.”
“That’s all good and dandy Charles but how do you pull off that kind of mission without
an act of God?” Vanessa clearly was still naïve in respect to the COBRAS.
Hagan walked up to her and grabbed those precious arms he loved to stroke. Staring her
straight in the eye, he finished their conversation.
“On the first day, God created the COBRAS and we have been killing our way to heaven
ever since.”
“I never knew you could kill your way into heaven?” Vanessa questioned.
Hagan put on a serious face and invoked a serious tone. He was as if possessed by a
power greater than him. (Hint: The narrator.) “You can’t kill your way into heaven. Outer
heaven, however, is a different story.”
FriendshipA current irony
“What do you think of the view? Magnificent and extraordinary for we have the sun to
our backs, the supplies are in packs, and spirits are at their max.” Bergan peered over the
bow of the ship, noting the name painted on the side: Rock Solid. He hated the name with
all his might but there was nothing much he could do. It was a chartered ship.
“Enjoy the day you two. Do as you please.” Bergan walked off and left the two alone.
David and Rob just stood there, uncomfortably until the first silence was broken.
The ocean current rocked the boat as Rob and David began to walk. David and Rob never
did see completely eye to eye. Many things such as family, preferences, and even
hypothalamic activity had caused this difference in perspectives.
“So David, what do you want to do?” Rob began pacing. It was an awkward moment, but
soon they would be the most intimate of friends.
The two of them just walked, David calmly looking around soaking in the freedom of life
once again. He was uninhibited now, his spirit was free.
“Rob, do you ever have that feeling that you’ve left a job undone? As if you had been
forced to leave a task to the ages?”
“David? I know you’ve had time to reflect but could you drop the big words. They were
useful in intimidating the others but we are a team now. You are my partner in crime. My
sniper…and nothing should bar you from completing the mission.” Their feet moved in
unison.
“When that bullet from Calvin’s gun hit my arm, I snapped. I realized I was not in a game
anymore. I understood that I had murdered out of anger, out of agony. It pains me every
day to know that the people I had killed will never respawn.”
“Don’t fret David. All men and women make horrible mistakes at least once in their life.
Yours was just more horrible than some.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“That’s why we were chosen. I can trust you. Trust is more important than talent. If you
put faith into someone, you are rest assured to be delivered.”
“I agree. Trust is faith…Rob.”
They continued walking the ship for hours, talking of what the future and the past held in
store for them. They sat down after a twohour walk and waited for lunch.
President Ridgemont sat back in his chair, eyeballing the latest folders he had removed
from the CIA library. The information had been doctored and unorganized intentionally.
He knew it. There was something Jerrold Elson wanted to hide. He knew this because
every single time the reports mentioned the leader of COBRA, a giant black bar
prevented him from learning the information. It was infuriating to know that a part of the
executive branch would go to this length to keep the ignorance of the country at bay. No
name went unbarred. The only names he saw were ones he already knew. Hagan, Bergan,
and Edward Ross. They all were mentioned but there was still a Lieutenant Colonel and a
Commander to be found. The leaders last name could not have been more than five or six
letters. The President tried everything. He read through every report but it had been
doctored, according to the edit date, at least forty years beforehand. Anyone who knew
this information had hid himself or herself already. He could not go to the usual people.
He had to find someone of a more ancient perspective. Too bad Ross had died six months
earlier, in the cold of November. The only recurring theme seemed to be a Project Mars.
Mars is the Roman god of war. Would make sense for the COBRAS. Project Mars was all
about the COBRAS. It stank of twofaced wetworks and backdoor techniques.
Assassination attempts, assassination successes. information warfare, and even grand
theft. Whatever Project Mars was about, it was important enough to be left uncensored.
Either an intentional or unintentional oversight, this desensitized project seemed to be the
only clue President Ridgemont had. I have a feeling I may be doing a bit of research. The
paragraph about Project Mars also had the word Gemini listed in it. Gemini was a space
based aviation experiment. What would the COBRAS gain by visiting Mars? And how
did they plan to get there? Rockets thirty years ago were barely making it to the moon.
He was lost without more information. He decided to call someone he knew could help
him. He’d call his own personal insider. For political reasons, this persons name will not
be mentioned. We’ll call him/her Jonette. (Pronounced Joenet)
Brock Bergan watched the two young recruits eat their sandwiches. They don’t seem to
get along with each other. I knew I would end up leading the COBRAS once again. When
I was their age, I was already causing uprisings. Maybe I overestimated today’s youth.
Must be the damned educational policy. Not enough independent reliance.
Bergan sighed for an era gone by when students led their own studies and teachers
actually taught with vigor and precision. More than ever before, money ruined this
country’s educational system. Money had been used for pet projects that went no where.
NASA still burns up billions of dollars to return with no useable test data. What good is a
rock sample from Mars if we cannot find a way to live there? We landed on the moon in
1969 using technology eons behind today. Floppies back then had less than one megabyte
of data capacity. It is a pity that we cannot land on Mars with disk drives of ten thousand
times past capacities. If a satellite built in the 1970s can reach past Pluto, I am sure that
something bigger built today could possibly reach Mars.
It was a shame that no one had bothered to try, save the President’s honorable mention.
Humanity’s trip to Mars would inevitably be delayed by bureaucracy…again.
“How are you guys?” Bergan found a seat next to David. “Turkey and ham sandwiches
made from the finest delis in New York. I hope you enjoy them.”
Rob had already finished and was now gulfing down potato chips. “I loved it. The turkey
was fresh, moist, and the bread tasted incredible. When can we have some more?”
David sat back, “Quit thinking so much about your stomach. It’s aggravating.”
“I’m not the one with the large gut.” Rob would live to regret these words as David rose
up and began to punch Rob’s arm. It was a sight to behold indeed. Bergan stood there
laughing until he felt Rob had received enough punishment and then he helped to remove
David from Rob.
“Sorry…I am so sorry.” Rob panted, grabbing his injured arm and chest.
“You better be. You’ve been trying my patience all day.”
“You’ll find that the patient…” Rob began, “…never go to the hospital.”
Calvin stood up as his bus stopped at the school, an hour late. April and he had talked
about how they would present the project and went over the lines they had drafted.
They checked in with the main office. His pass in his hands, Calvin walked to his second
period class. The skies were clear and beautiful as was April’s custom, the month that is.
No rain showers in sight…yet. The door handle stuck in place when he tried to move it.
Better knock. Three pounds of the fist later and the door opened. Calvin walked inside
and continued his studies. The teacher began to ramble on about the significance of
Zachary Taylor’s presidency as if anyone cared.
While we’re on the subject
President Ridgemont arrived at the home of Samuel McDonald. He had heard his defense
secretary had been under the weather and a home visit would be perfect to ask a few
questions. Secret Service posted in a perimeter.
After the pleasantries and pouring of the coffee were finished, Ridgemont got down to
business. “I want to probe your knowledge for any information on a mercenary group
called COBRA. Be as honest as you can.” He of course meant to obtain any information
Elson had purposefully withheld to hide the CIA agendas.
McDonald paused for a moment or two, forming his words. “You see, sir…the COBRAS
have done things many consider unnatural. They have been portrayed as the group you
don’t want to cross. The usual clichéridden political dogma regarding the strength of a
unit is used to promote fear among those ignorant of our operations. It is used to strike
paranoia home to the hearts of our enemies. COBRA, however, has no need for image
enhancement. They have always been a prestigious unit comprised of devout Christians
and Jews. They aren’t sinful men as all attend their respective houses of God and
communion for forgiveness remains the only way to stay a member. They do not ever
hesitate…ever. Their training methods are so obscure that the CIA and NSA both have no
idea. None at all. The CIA has lost every mole it has sent to infiltrate the COBRAS. Tales
of the paranormal and psychic talents…none proven. Mostly tall tales to enhance an
already ruthless unit’s image. In essence, the COBRAS make the SEALS and Delta Force
look like grade school choir boys.”
“Could I get the name of a possible leader?” Ridgemont only wanted a name to pin. He
needed to locate the leader and cut down the group.
“The COBRAS are like the Marines in that everyone is essentially a leader but all report
to the Sergeant or Major. But the COBRAS go to the obvious step above this ideology by
training all members to act alone. Each and every COBRA is essentially a one man army.
They’ve toppled governments, religions, cults, companies, political factions, lobbyists,
and even presidents. I’ve heard the nastiest rumors regarding the COBRAS that link them
to JFK and even Abe Lincoln. Roosevelt enticed the unit to join the USA during WW2.
Up until then, they were the mercenary unit of choice for the countries of Europe and
Africa.” Ridgemont interrupted McDonald.
“How close were you to the COBRAS? It seems that your knowledge is quite specific.”
Samuel leaned forward and pointed to himself, stating the only obvious truth.
“I was a COBRA and am now retired. Mr. President, I will be as blunt as I can. You are
barking up a tree many have died climbing. This unit, the COBRAS, are my comrades
and disclosing their names is against policy. You are painting me a target for cleanup by
even asking me. The COBRAS are a rebellious group that instill their young trainess with
a sense of duty and responsibility. They are a rebellion by definition.”
“They are loyal only to an ideal that is oppressed by another ideal or government. We’ve
dealt with rebellions the world over.” Ridgemont said.
“They define rebellion the way many scholars do. Rebellion can be defined as loyalty to
nothing. The COBRAS do not ever ally themselves with a country or ideology other than
God. The last leader who did that found himself in the middle of Vietnam, fighting for the
Americans. Alliances taint the COBRAS and every time the COBRAS joined a country,
the unit was disbanded by choice or through political bureaucracy.”
“Whyt aren’t you in the COBRAS anymore? Did you get tired and felt a need to calm
down?”Ridgemont asked
“Not exactly. I felt love for America and since loyalty to a country is a deniable offense to
COBRA morale, I resigned from the unit. I I fell in love with an America that loved me
back. I had to give this country the fruits it had given me. I left the COBRAS and they
have been watching ever since. I only have one last thing to tell you Mr. President.”
“Yes.” Ridgemont sat on the edge of his seat. This information helped him greatly. All
members of the Department of Defense (DOD) have to disclose all past professions,
including mercenary work. Maybe the COBRAS had a dummy corporation for funding.
McDonald spoke softly and quickly, “My advice is brief and subtle. You want the leader
of the COBRAS, speak carefully. You have met this person you seek in the past three
years. This person will undoubtedly be watching you closely. I suggest, Mr. President,
that you back off this trail and let the CIA handle it. They are more culpable than you
think.”
“Culpawhat?” Ridgemont thought he had alluded to CIACOBRA relations.
“Sorry, meant capable. The CIA is more capable than you think.” McDonald sighed,
knowing that he could be killed for even pointing Ridgemont in the right direction. Must
be my love for America, just like Bergan. A love that will have us both killed. They are
not happy. Not at all.
As Calvin finished another day at school and the Rock Solid made it one step closer to
Zanzibar, a lone scientist noticed that every planet in our solar system was showing signs
of perfectly aligning.
Book VI: The Genesis of Zanzibar
I’ve heard many things about this African Incident, many of them untrue. I waited many
years to hear the tale about the formation of apocalypse. Ragnarok, they called it
Ragnarok. What came out of this incident would make the idea of a mobilized nuclear
battle tank a dream of fools. This thing, this demon…he was once a human, flesh and
blood the same as us. But he had been betrayed in youth, in spirit, in flesh. Betraying your
country like that, I just don’t get it. But there are those who found good in the revolts of
the Congo. This revolution embellished that kind of refreshed nationalism that brings out
the good in people…or the bad. They called what they did acts of God. I however call
them acts of recklessness. They were the result of a growing paranoia sweeping the globe.
A paranoia caused by politicians but also caused by irate extremists who would stop at
nothing to prove just how evil man is. Sure we are evil but I guess we forgot a certain
speech about casting the first rock. After the ordeal was over and the wounded sent to
hospital, I asked an old friend about it. He told me all that there was to know about War
Plan Red.
Modesty: As printed from the NonFictional Account of the Atrocious War (War of
Attrition)
Tuesday, April 26, 2005 @ 10:15 PM
Rob and David sat on the bow of the ship, watching the stars shine above.
“The Major seems to lead us to believe that all is perfect and that we are safe yet I have
seen nothing but lies from this man. He keeps everything deep and secret and layers it
underneath a chocolate frosting. Frankly, I feel more insecure here than I do at home.”
“Rob…you’re on a boat filled with radical mercenaries. What reason do you not have for
being insecure?”
“Well if you put it that way. They weren’t bothering me.”
“I would assume as much, given your feelings towards family.”
“I love them David. I just don’t understand why not missing them is a signature for hate?
The sorrow of leaving the house is overpowered by the sense of adventure. I want to join
these guys David. They understand what they should do. They have a remedy to the
problems of the world. Bergan had once eyed me only because of my connection to you.
Apparently, he’s chosen me to carry on in his name.”
“The name’ll suit you well enough. Pride is the greed for honor.”
“That would hurt me if I hadn’t already thought of it. You’re very smart David. I see why
Eddie chose you. But you lack the wisdom to lead. You lack the eloquence to command.
You lack the will to fight.”
“I do not. I’ve murdered without remorse.”
“Have you…David?”
“No. I can’t say that. I’ll withdraw my statement. But I will say that I have the will to
fight.”
“What is beyond your fist?”
“None of this philosophy bullshit please.”
“Bergan asked me it the other day. He says it helps to focus the mind. What is beyond
your fist, David?”
“Your face if you ask that question again.”
“If you were to punch me, what would you see beyond the knuckles?”
David sprung up and clamored towards Rob. Big mistake, tricked me once…
Rob grabbed David’s wrist and swung it to his left, and whipped it behind David’s back
as his body pivoted. David found himself in a arm lock. Rob’s other arm went around
David’s neck and pulled tight. David elbowed back with his left arm but to no avail.
Rob just took the blows.
“He saw a trait and exploited it. I am trying to get you to see past your anger. Once you
betray your anger to the fire, you can be the Agony. Until then you are just the fury.”
“Let me go.”
“As you wish.” Rob let David go.
David found a seat on the ground and massaged his neck and followed up with his right
wrist.
“And who says you are the Pride? Last I checked, Bergan was still in command.”
“Bergan’s time is done. He wasn’t the one who trained me.”
“Who did?”
“He should be on his way. Just sit tight and enjoy.”
“You truly are a monster to be feared.”
“And that is why you aren’t the Agony.” Rob turned around and went back to staring.
Bergan sat on his cot and stretched his wrists. The damp sea air always chilled him to the
bone. He felt a growing tension as he looked inside. Kenneth was beginning to push back
and the trip on the whole felt different. It was as if some sort of premonition had laid
itself at his every beck and call. He lay his head down in the dark and onto the pillow at
the top of his makeshift bed. As he slept, a spirit stood outside the door laughing
haughtily. It seems as though no human should be able to hear the insane chuckles.
Your use is as dry as the Sahara I drained long ago. Now another oasis I should find to
weaken. Hopefully this one will be stronger. The spirit left Brock Bergan and dissipated.
Rob and David slept soundly next door as the spirit entered and gazed upon the new
blood. The tubby one seems impure enough but his struggle makes him a weak target for
mischief. And the hippie boy lacks…wait a second. What is this? A social disparity? This
kid… The spirit was overjoyed to find such a hidden weakness. This kid seems to have
what I needed most! His insecurity provides the perfect incubation. The spirit was about
to enter Rob’s mind when he was knocked out. Odd? I can’t get to him. He seems to have
control over himself. Strange…I was sure that his lust for that woman would suffice?
Maybe it isn’t lust…the line between love and lust is always blurry. I’ll try again and
hopefully that time I’ll find a way in. The spirit flew ahead of the ship at lightning speeds
to find one Charles Hagan, his prime target. Rob woke up and decided to get a glass of
water. (Not that there would any problem?)
Hagan paced around waiting for confirmation of the finished train station. Construction
members today had told him that they would be completely finished by the end of the
morrow. It was now moving towards midnight. Once it was completed, he’d use the extra
train to destroy the other along with Bergan and his new recruits. He had already called in
the CIA and their dark helicopters. He just needed to get information to the informant.
That final train out of here would take the message. He finished the message intended for
his doubleedged sword, the new Pride he had chosen along with Bergan. This younger
male would definitely surpass all of them. Hagan hoped for the world with his new recruit
but sometimes the world is all a man can see. Sometimes the phrase orbis non sufficit
remains an inevitable truth. Hagan wanted an angel and would end up with a demon. A
man walked into the room who carried with him a strange premonition.
“Sir!” Hagan stood tall.
“At ease….gentle Hagan.”
“Ophiuchus? Why are you back?”
“Each of us is in our original alignment. It is time to command the armies. I sent for you
to return, as is my custom.”
“So the zodiac is contained?”
“Yes, for eternity yet again.”
“So you are the one in charge? Bergan know yet?”
“The man has betrayed our spirit. I am taking command back. There would not be a
problem there Hagan?” His voice was raspy and weak.
“Are you the one the kid has seen? Are you the premonition?”
“I have gained great power. It hasn’t been this strong since so very long ago.”
“I am at your service of course.”
“Hagan, now that Bergan has been ostracized politically, I must ordinate you. Welcom to
the Fathers of Paradise.”
“The Patrons of Eden…”
“There are many things we must discuss…naturally. I came when I heard Bergan cough
in his sleep. He is weakening which means his spirit has become disconnected from the
source. He won’t last much longer. He cannot make it to Valhalla.”
“I will kill him then, gladly.”
“Make it so. It would be a waste of my time to kill him. Train the boy well. I want to see
him in the mountains after the initiation you have planned for this fall.”
“Yes, I will Dhumavarna.”
He vanished into the room as the lights flickered and turned dark. He vanished
completely and light returned.
“Oh my God.” Hagan slowly sat down. He had just been advanced into the most
presitigious of mercenary units. He was now a nameless god among men. He was an
Adam.
A boat’s a boat
The week went by faster than expected but soon the rain came as the ship traveled around
the tropical depression arising off the coast. The journey across the ocean had neared an
end. David and Rob seemed to resolve their differences while Bergan began to feel colder
and colder. He felt the cold energy vibrating off the steel hull and disagreed with it. He
walked up the stairs and onto the landing next to the bridge. The captain had left the door
open to let the cool air in. Doug heard the footsteps. “We have almost arrived sir.”
Captain Manicrest tapped the wheel and looked at the radar. 3 miles until I am a free
man. Bergan walked in while on his radio. “What about the acid? I want it in unloading
position before the morn. We arrive in however many hours we have and if it is not ready
to be put on the truck, I might just have to fire at someone!” He set the radio back in its
resting place.
“So you finally take that decrepit tank off my ship?”
“The acid is my primary weapon. Do not dare to call it decrepit.” Bergan felt a bit icy
with fury at the moment.
“I just want your topgrade weapons off my ship so I don’t have to make another trip. I
don’t like the thought of having to explain why I have corrosive contents on my ship.”
“For the last time Doug…it is a battle tank named Acid, not a tank of acid!”
“Acid tank…Tank Acid. Same difference to me. All I want is to have it unloaded off my
ship!”
“Our relationship seems very acidic doesn’t it Doug?” Bergan smiled for once. He passed
over his Captain’s tired face to look at the control panel.
“When you have had to deal with as many secretive passengers like you, you seem to
learn to avoid conversation with them for fear of your own life. This is one of the few jobs
where ignorance is bliss.” He thumbed the dial on the ship radio to the station that
corresponded with the Congan coast control. He lifted the CB.
“This is the Rock Solid asking for docking verification. Number is…”
Ignorance is bliss huh? Didn’t you just desire to remove all dangerous objects off the
ship? Bergan grimly admitted to only himself.
“Come in Rock Solid. Verification confirmed.” It was Hagan, but Bergan did not tell this
to Doug.
“Dock at the normal spot.” Hagan cut out and Manicrest kept the boat moving as they
began to see the coastline.
Hagan set down the headset and ran upstairs. He wanted to make sure the welcoming
party was there for Brock Bergan when he arrived. It had been an unfortunate problem
that had stopped the other train from working. Hagan’s plan had been so simple as to use
the second train to smash into the first. Defective shipping had caused one of the bolts on
the motor to crack. Just one of those random coincidences that just happen to drive the
bad guy to find another way to kill his prey. He started the preparations to launch the
primary locomotive and told the truck drivers to begin moving the extra large trucks
toward the Atlantic Station. They had to be ready to move the ACID. Vanessa was waiting
for him at the train. “Thought you’d need a partner for your trip this eve.”
They loaded the train and it began to slide away into the savannah.
What’s up dock?
The trees and grass and lions and tigers and bears of nonsensical existence flew by as the
train moved like that same bullet Superman was like, moving towards a man’s death. The
rails were the rifling and each car its own bullet with wheels all their own. They were
wheels that revolved around themselves like selfcentered little children. A twirling blade
on top of a helicopter picked up its crew thirty miles to the East in anticipation of the
snaking train.
“We have them on radar and are preparing for liftoff.” Nikolas Rastovski clicked his
safety on and off, playing with his gun as if he had no respect for it. As I said, the young
have no respect for strength. His years of faithful service had paid off. He was now a
ghoul to the public, dead as Lincoln. Betrayed by a commander and killed alongside his
brother in combat while fighting the domestic problems caused by a renegade mercenary.
The kidnapping of two American children and the debauchery of their intellect…I must
return them home safely. It is my main mission. My secondary objective is to kill Brock
Bergan in such a way as to have him blamed. He will be killed by one of his own, me.
According to my papers, I am now your aft guard. Unfortunately, I missed the train but
the helicopter will let you know your fate before I even board your train. A black hawk
always defeats a snake. Hawks want war all day while the snake only attacks in restraint.
I’ll make sure that you know Death is eating dust between the beginning and end of
infinity.
Rob and David poured over maps detailing the landscape of Zanzibar, now known to them
as the man made Eden. “Zanzibar is only just a cover and has always been a way for
intellectuals to talk about a union in Africa while using the name of a small island. An
island that represents Africa as an island continent.” Bergan had said. David had already
found a suitable place in the forest where he could set up the ASP operations of COBRA.
Bergan began explaining the backstory for COBRA’S necessity.
“EDEN has always had two divisions known as COBRA and ZODIAC. Zanzibar is the
protected name for Eden for Eden was an island paradise only experienced by a select fe
These few discovered that they could produce sounds to assign names and such to objects
and thus the ancient old problem of communication fell apart. Cuneiform seems to have
been invented rather closely to where scholars believe Eden is. While Eden may not be in
Africa, the true accounts of the world lay there in safety, protected by trees. The
COBRAS protect the Holy Grail. The Holy Grail is indeed the cup Christ used during the
Last Supper. A cup that held strange numbers and symbols unnecessary for an older time
period. I’ve seen the key, the cup of Christ. I’ve held it in my hand and witnessed its
beauty and on the bottom lie geographical coordinates left by He who on his shoulders lie
the breadth of sin. These coordinates only made sense to those of his time and they were
used to hide the documents of mankind from His church. Many of these documents go
against perceived doctrine and many give insight to God. But most of them are dangerous
only because they hold with it some truth that could have torn apart any man or woman’s
mind. There are glaring omissions in the Bible because a mortal being passed all of it
down. We are in the third cycle of mankind, and we must protect a collection of religious
documents and materials that are called puzzle pieces or keys. The key is essentially a
religious cipher used to decipher the religious texts and find God Himself. These were
hidden from view because keys are meant for only a select few, the 144,000 who now
have the map to locate Noah’s ark, his home. Noah still lives on today as the gatekeeper
out of the human world just like Peter is the gatekeeper is to heaven. Peter and Noah are
reincarnations of each other, their souls two sides of a single coin. But reincarnation does
not preclude that they are the exact same mortal person. It only agrees that their souls are
the same. Peter and Noah were and still are the most devout of the disciples. The
ZODIAC are the fighters in the sky who protect the heavens from man and the COBRAS
protect man from God. The ZODIAC are charged with killing a COBRA once the
COBRA oversteps its bounds and fights for God in His name. We fight to keep God from
losing his foothold among man but also to keep His tinkering from becoming noticeable.”
. “He does make changes from time to time or patches glitches. His world cannot always
be perfect. We find the anomalies and resolve them. The Matrix movies understood
perfectly. I have united the ZODIAC and COBRA to fight the rest of mankind and show
him the glory of God. COBRA will submit to ZODIAC. It is the only way the apocalypse
will happen. The signs are aligned and now it is time for mankind to see the end of days.”
“So we are the protectors of man?” David still had a hard time making sense of all of this
inconsistent and overly zealous religion mumbojumbo.
“Yes. Much of what I have said is a mouthful but it is only the beginning of the tip of a
really cold iceberg. The key that many people have been blabbering on about in the news
media is the Holy Grail. But the Holy Grail is not just a fucking cup. If it were just the
cup Christ used at the Last Supper, it would not be very important to God. The cup
represents the essence of God. We drink in the crap some religious institutions pour for us
and never filter it. It sits there in our metaphysical bladders waiting for some part of the
brain to analyze it. Nothing is certain until it is just. If you cannot justify something with
rational logic and thought, the reasoning behind any decision based on said assumption is
invalid. It is based on faulty logic and this is why many churches today are the false
prophets. Henry VIII, Smith, Wesley, and many others contribute to the unfiltered shit
some people call religion. We are here to protect man from God. There are many things
man wishes God to have but unfortunately, they forget God has everything to begin with.
It isn’t what He can do but what He does do. Life is not a Hollywood picture filmed by
Steven Spielberg.”
“Sir Steven Spielberg.” Rob added.
Bergan shook his head. “Yes Rob. I know that Spielberg is a man. I do not need the
Crown of England to tell me that.”
“Well since you seem to be so knowledgeable about religion and how the Holy Grail is
more than just a cup, enlighten us please as to your brilliant ideas and insights.” This
guy’s a crack and a stitch.
“The Grail, unlike other theories, is not a woman or a symbol of a woman. It is the
essence of all that is man and God. The union of the more masculine God and the more
feminine human. God plants the seed of wisdom into the heart of man and the result is a
crop of indistinguishable delight. God makes man and man makes God. Sheer brilliance
is what the cup is. It is the key to the outer heaven. Without the Grail, man cannot reach
his utmost potential and that is why we hide it. When man is ready for the cup of wisdom,
he shall drink from it and be forgiven. It takes humility to accept undesirable defeat in
wisdom and logic. A man is not immortally correct but only to the extent of fulfilling a
purpose. Each man and woman is a piece to a puzzle that must be placed into a certain
role. They will fulfill that role whether it is worthless or not. A puzzle cannot be
completed without those pieces we wish not to find. I saw you David sitting in that cell a
winner. You may have been caught but you proved a very startling point. Your piece in the
puzzle had been found but not placed. You proved that children are still miraculous in the
hands of a god. I found you in that prison but you were lost. I thought leaving COBRA
and returning home would keep away my past demons yet it has only moved to stir them
into productivity. You are the one of COBRA prophecy who would lead us to the final
piece in the puzzle. Now all we have to do is locate that piece.”
David nodded his head, “Myths, as I have learned, do nothing but stir man to blind
acceptance.”
“Being blind and being able to see are two different processes. One need not eyes to see
what is blatantly obvious. Sometimes mankind needs a Teiresias to guide him to what
can’t be seen. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Bergan
countered.
Hagan’s DiscoveryHD
On the train, Rob looked up and asked about the Zodiac.
“Now when you say Zodiac, do you mean that the group is called Zodiac?”
“No. The stars of the Zodiac are the most important. The Zodiac is comprised of 4 sets of
3 with one set being in an authoritarian position. The ZODIAC is composed of the three
hierarchies of angels. The three groups are lead by three members and that brings the
total to 12. These 12 are the fallen angels who strive for forgiveness but are bound forever
in a cyclical punishment. They must revolve around God, the universe, until their
punishment is over. Since they left God, they are no longer faithful in his ways. Because
of this, they created man but due to man’s limited abilities, they abandoned him to die.
But the Lord came to man and recreated him to be perfect. This is why there is no link
between apes and humans. The angels created the homo erectus but due to their limited
patience, the humanoids evolved into a smaller form many call Neanderthals. But the
Lord knew his angel’s creation had potential for all angels come from his divine wisdom.
He was impatient at first like the angels but his persistence yielded a powerful crop. But
this crop had the heart of evil inherent from its protectors and the Lord felt the need to
wash the evil sin away with the dark ones. It did not work as sin came creeping back up.
He tried setting down the same ground rules for angels with man but to no avail. Most of
mankind ignored his easy truths. It took one mass drowning, three prophets, the slavery
of his children, an exodus, and outbreak of internal turmoil before he realized mankind’s
metaphysical comprehension was a bit fragile. So his energy wasted away and in a
moment of infamous (to the fallen) brilliance, he put all his energy into man in the form
of a son. This son would suck all sin into his heart and reap it into a harvest to be burned
away. The sin transferred upon the savior’s soul and he carried it to the home of the
fallen, to the false Eden. There he lay it before the fallen and asked them to do with it as
they pleased for now the victory of their master over them was all but seen. His soul, now
lighter from dropping the weight of sin, ascended into the world of God and from there he
has sat until the immortal’s powers are conferred to him. Once the false prophet appears,
the son of the fallen, comes to reap his heyday, the Lord will cut him down and free the
pure spirit living within. The spirit that has the ultimate anomaly of all: the ability to
switch polarities. It has the ultimate choice. The choice all men and women wish for: the
choice with no consequence. This spirit can pledge devotion to any god without
retribution. It is the reincarnation of the Lord who will kill in the name of God out of
anger but will then atone for his own sin, cleaning the rest of the world with him. He will
lead the armies of Hell against the Lord and into a trap. His story will be fated to a union
of the souls. Two sides to a coin, a coin of fate. Two of him was created, a light and a
dark. The dark one will win in sight but the one of light will win in spirit. The good of the
Lord combined with the bad of Lord that will cancel out. Love has its harms but hate can
never have benefits. Thus the dual sided Love originally created is brought down to
simplistic love through the cancellation of hate. The son of Satan is amongst us in
Zanzibar and his importance will always remain the key to heaven. It is through his
misdeeds that all of mankind will awaken into the Age of Aquarius. God has lost his
battle, his armies, and his followers in the eyes of the world. But who was to say that the
eyes were true? What if the senses were meant to deceive the myopic? They know their
fate but are still stuck under the impression that the one who has the choice will
automatically side with them. The souls of the many cannot make the choice this man has
been given. A woman cannot be given this ability for she is reliant on feeling and
emotion. She is the root from which all blessings flo The woman is already devout to God
and needs no redemption. Eve has redeemed for her folly with knowledge. Now it is time
for man to leave his animalistic legacy behind and join his wife in praise of the eternal
librarian. It is our job to protect the dark Lord so that the dove of peace and tranquility
may redeem him. The lamb watches the dove save the lion. This is how history will
continue. But since the beginning of time….” David turned his eyes to the window, taking
in Bergan’s explanation and the scenery. He looked across to Rob who seemed to be
writing down what Bergan was saying. He seems interested in something. Wonder what it
is?
The tall and mysterious man from earlier walked down the aisle but made no sound. He
approached Hagan and stood there. Hagan turned and barely had time to jump.
“Why are you here?” Hagan recognized the warrior.
He spoke softly yet with a strong voice. “The drums of war were beating. You can’t miss
these drumbeats. They’re off the scale. I just came to keep an eye on things. The flames
of War have been lit in earnest greed. Who knew that through war humanity would be
freed?” The deep voice quietly resonated throughout the cabin.
Hagan confronted the man, “So is Zodiac ready to return to the COBRA cooperation?”
“We see it as just a means to an end. I am the first. Ophiuchus has absorbed me. I am
Taurus. We will come one by one until we form a new human, both immortal and
unstoppable. The last of us will bring about the tides of destruction and valor. It is our
only path of exacting revenge for our past punishments. The sky is indeed crashing to
earth, and faster than you think.”
Hagan closed his eyes along with the strange spirit.
“Come to me again in November. By then, heaven on earth shall begin its residence.
Remember this November mankind, because it will be the only time that a shooting star
will intentionally wreak havoc and destruction upon your people.”
The spirit disappeared and Hagan sighed in relief. He felt tense whenever the Zodiac
members were around. He had sensed all twelve of them, each of their energies being
weak. It would only be a matter of time before Ophiuchus absorbed them all. Then he
would be immortal and unstoppable. He represented the thirteenth and unofficial
constellation: the serpent Ophiuchus.
Bergan felt his knees ache. He massaged them and decided that it must be a result of
being cramped on a boat for days. He had not really sat or lay down for more than two
hours. The Major had a vessel to protect for harm. He had no room to allow for alarm.
The train pulled into the station. Bergan began the tedious task of emptying the boat,
paying its pilot, and moving on to another destination. He could not allow for alarm or
any other unexpected responses. He had to remain cool around Hagan. It had been
Hagan’s fault the COBRAs were stripped of authority and funding. It had been his over
active desire to fight. Bergan had, on occasion, even called this desire his “combat
libido.”
Hagan walked around and saw the ice room employees. He decided to have a word with
them.
“Thomas and Perry? May I have a quick word with you?”
He pulled them aside as they carried out a locked box.
“Sir!” They both saluted. “At ease…” Hagan rested his arms.
“I need to know if the technology is safe?”
“Yes it is. We have the key in a cool place. It should not call for any concern.”
“I am to escort you and Thomas to the security room aboard the train. Then I will have
both of you guard it until we arrive home.”
“Yes sir.” Thomas saluted. Perry followed suit.
“As for your punishment, consider it void after you arrive safely.” Hagan walked away.
“What about Bergan?” Perry called out.
Hagan turned his head as he was walking, putting his hand out in some sort of wave.
“Who?” Hagan headed back to the train. He had a few bullets to remove from Bergan’s
handguns. He knew that Bergan would never check his gun twice. He was too arrogant.
Hagan took out Bergan’s guns and removed what he felt would be sufficient to keep
Bergan alive until payback could rear its beautiful head. Hagan snickered to himself for
the first time since the first African conflict. We started the Western involvement in
Africa, created Apartheid, destroyed Sadat, hindered Egypt during the Six Days War, and
even went so far as to supply Fidel Castro with weapons. It is time again for the COBRAs
to start a world war. Bergan’s alliance to America is against the doctrine of our ancestors.
Such an infraction is punishable only by death.
Hagan closed up with a new objective. He had to make sure that the two boys were safe.
He walked to the passenger car where Bergan was. Bergan approached Hagan and put out
his hand as if to invite him to a talk.
“Have a seat sir. I have a status report for you.” Hagan put on his game face.
“Good.” Bergan suddenly felt uneasy around Hagan. He was calculating again. Must be
all that damn power I gave him. He is hoping to retain it. He wants to know if he has
failed me.
“Hagan, I have heard nothing but good reports from Vanessa. But seeing as how she has
found a new love in you, I cannot find complete veracity in her reports. So as a
precaution, I left a person to watch you. You are up to your usual tricks but there was one
thing I wanted to ask you about. Have you found the reason for the key?”
Hagan had known of the tail, thanks to Vanessa. Both men now had a common emotional
ground to relate business on.
Hagan replied quickly. “Of course not! No matter whom I ask in the hierarchy, I get
nothing. Whatever it is you are hiding from me, it is big. I know that I am capable. Why
rely so much on O’Neil this time? I was just as good in Vietnam!”
“You are too hot headed. You fly off the handle at the slightest provocation whenever I
am involved. It is like a rivalry of magnanimous value. Just know that my planning has
left a special spot for you.”
Bergan knew Hagan wanted control of the COBRAs. He had known since the first
mission COBRA had failed. He had known the day Hagan made the correct move and
Bergan ruled against it. It had cost them their leader. It was Bergan’s fault General Ross
was courtmartialed. He had decided to make COBRA known to the Vietcong and Hagan
wanted to stay in the shadows. Bergan stripped Hagan of his authority. Then, the
Americans captured General Ross after he was wounded in combat. That was when the
US military decided to courtmartial him for acting above and beyond his responsibility.
He had cost American lives and had to answer to justice. Events only turned for the worse
upon the US military tribunal finding out about the COBRA cover up. Only Johnson
knew about the COBRAs. Once the military found out, Johnson had to sell out his wet
works mercenaries to make up for the insult to the civilian military. COBRA was then
forced to join the Department of Defense where its assets were then divided up and its
base destroyed. The damn Soviets took over after America laid waste to it. They even
found Ross’s key. Ross’ key opened the door to a new world. This was the reasoning
behind the American involvement in African arms deals. The arms deals were COBRA
members seeking to gain back their homeland. It came at no price after the fall of the
USSR.
But Hagan could never forgive Bergan for the choice that shut them down. Hagan was
forced to rejoin the Marine Corps out of humiliation. The COBRAs were weakened and it
was Bergan’s fault as Commanding Officer.
“I am sorry Hagan for the past. You made the correct choice. Do not let your emotions
burn just yet. COBRA is not alive yet. She is just a frail scrap of metal. I am the
contractor and you are a welder. I need you to realign the Zodiac. That is all I ask of you
at this moment. I need you to realign them for battle. Once the Zodiac are in place,
COBRA shall know the divine victory of grace. Just do your job.”
Hagan finalized his decision. He had been debating whether or not to actually follow
through with his operation. He called it “The King’s Revolution” in honor of the King
Cobra. That little weasel Bergan had sent to watch him had been so easy to depose. He
had just to offer the ferret more than Bergan promised. The rest wrote itself. Capitalism
definitely had its strengths in war.
“Do not worry Bergan. I have called the Zodiac to conference. I have nothing to worry
about? Do I?”
“No you do not Commanding Officer.” Hagan about cringed. He knew all about Bergan’s
plans to create an African Union. He knew about the plan to raise himself as King. Hagan
smiled in fake sobriety and held his arm out to shake Bergan’s. Bergan, against his own
intuition, shook the outstretched hand before him. He did it even though his heart told
him of Hagan’s dark intentions. Something is wrong. There are always disturbances in life
but Hagan is putting out a vibe that goes beyond normal. If I were to use the Richter scale
to rate Hagan’s edgy nature at the moment, he would all but surely rate 10.0. I just have
no idea what tricks he employs at this juncture. He is always the most unpredictable. I am
most certainly going to regret giving him the title of CO.
Hagan said to Bergan out from under his breath, “I will never forgive you. Just know that
I do this out of loyalty to Commander Ross. Your comparison to him derives as much
meaning as the comparison of corruption and government. The two are so closely linked
it betrays all intelligence to even bother investigating it. Your loyalty rate within COBRA
when correlated to Commander Ross’ is so differentiated that I could not graph it on one
piece of paper using a landscapeprinting mode. I would have to use two. If that does not
hurt you enough, I have something to tell you that will. I was the one who ordered the
assassination of the CIA director. I knew that Elson would do everything he could to
douse your flame. Especially after what happened to him and Ross. He considers
COBRA a threat. Let us invoke analogy again. Elson is related to Ross in the same way
that I am related to you. My one goal will be to never advise you again. Your mistakes
will continue until the day fate intervenes on my behalf.”
“Hagan! Back down. That is an order.” Bergan asserted his authority.
“You are finished!”
“Hagan!” Bergan stood.
“Commander!” Hagan stood.
Their eyes met with intense fury. Both of them were tired of this ridiculous game of
politics.
“I have always been the true and fated ruler of COBRA.” Hagan began to speak, oblivious
to the authority above him.
“You are being asked by an officer of superior authority to stop,” Bergan put his hands to
his side.
“Fate is never sidestepped. Since this is true, I will rule COBRA.” Hagan continued.
“COBRA is not ruled; it is commanded.” Bergan reasserted his authority.
“Synonyms Bergan always permit substitution in a sentence of the same context. Again, I
ask for a better position.” Hagan pushed ahead.
“You have stepped over the line!” Bergan commaned.
“And you created the line; how convenient.” Hagan smirked.
“You are now under threat from a man with a gun.” Bergan grasped his M1911.
“Am I? You know that your gun is nothing more than a figurehead.” Hagan kept his attack
up.
“Bergan dropped his gun back into the holster. He reached for his knife. He walked out
into the aisle and stood in attack stance.
“Is that how you want to settle this? I do not want to fight you but if it solves our
problem…” Bergan was interrupted.
“I have no more resolve to fight you. You are a lost cause. America has corrupted you. I
only can wait until your reign ends. Sometimes, I feel as if I you are in the wrong
universe. At night, your existence makes no sense. I feel as if your existence has been
warped by something above us. I feel as if the great writer of the ages finds pleasure in
toying with us. I feel as if you belong in another story.”
“Your membership in COBRA is now under attack.”
“Kicking me out will not solve anything. You are between my goal and me. I do not play
well with obstacles. I am going to have a talk with God and ask that he remove you from
my point of vie” Hagan felt power seeping into his arms. He was stealing Bergan’s
authority. The power was refreshing itself in the new body. Bergan was indeed finished.
Bergan pulled rank, “Guards.” A unit strutted in armed to the feet.
“I will back off for now sir.” Hagan saluted. “Just know that our power struggle is not
over. It never is and never will be. In the end, you are my boss and I will replace you. I
can only wait. Time is on my side. The “technique” has drained you. Ross told me about
it. Good night sweet prince. Good night.”
Hagan walked out, noting, as he passed the window, Bergan’s reflection as it disappeared.
Bergan slouched into a nearby seat. He had been physically and emotionally drained by
this act of Hagan’s. He knew that time was not his side. The after effects of the COBRA
power on the human body severely weakened the perks of being a man in the hierarchy.
COBRA was constructed as a magical entity where the troops rely on the power flowing
from their leader to function. The problem lay in this design that an overzealous troop
could steal power with no permission. Hagan had just stripped Bergan of his authority.
Bergan knew that reacquiring it would take all of his strength. He adjourned to the
sleeping car in between his present location and the lounge. Finding a bunk, he rested for
the first time in one week.
Two hours later…
The next car housed David and Rob. Both of them were relaxing.
David looked to the map when out of the corner of his eye he saw an object further out.
He turned his head. It looked to be black but in the tree, like a panther. It then stood like a
man and turned, a dark smile on his face. It disappeared as a lighter black object flew
right through it.
Brock Bergan woke up to the sound of rotor blades in the distance. He looked out the
small windows of the sleeping car. He decided to get a better look in the lounge.
He opened the door and dragged his feet in.
David and Rob welcomed him. “Have you two seen Hagan?”
An object that closely resembled a helicopter seemed to be quickly approaching the train.
“He came through here about twenty minutes ago asking to see if you were awake.”
“Did he seem tense or calm?” Bergan asked.
“Pretty calm for a man who just got out of a fight with his CO.”
“Oh so you heard that. I am sorry for our behavior but…”
David interrupted Bergan, “I am sorry also but I have a more pressing question. There
seems to be a helicopter coming this way. Do tourists normally travel in black transport?”
<Resurrection…Passion of the Cbrist>
Bergan stopped talking and grabbed for his binoculars. He took a very detailed glance at
the approaching transport. I can’t believe it! Elson is trying to stomp us out now is he? He
knows what we are scheming and has sided with the Americans! I knew he had faith in
America like I do but betraying the COBRAS is too much for comfort. He checked the
right of the train, opposite David and Rob, and saw one more Black Hawk fast
approaching. I’d say the ETA would be about five minutes.
“David, Rob…arm yourselves with whatever you can find. I see another helicopter
convoy coming this way. I must suit up myself. Show the world just how dangerous the
COBRAS are. Hurry up!” Bergan walked out briskly and towards his cabin.
Nikolas cocked the first bullet into the chamber of his buddy’s G36. He always loved to
play with weapons.
“Come one Nik and hand it to me. You are just toying with it!” I sure wish I could use a
gun this time but that would be stooping to his level. I’d prefer getting intimate with
Bergan before I kill him. In that way it is not a death in cold blood but out of deep respect
for his mental insufficiencies. He handed the gun to his mate and pulled out the blade
from his side and looked at it before placing it away again. How he loved the sight of his
face in the reflective surface of a knife. I am now no longer Nikolas Rastovski…call me
Nikolai. He remembered his directive…none shall pass into Zanzibar. Even the two
kidnapped children had to die for they knew too much about the COBRAS. Elson had
adopted him as a COBRA under the circumstances that he completes this mission. It is
with great honor that I fight for my brethren.
He massaged his neck and attached the safety line.
Bergan reached his room on the train and closed the door. He put his gloves and knife
holster on as well as the thigh holsters for his Berettas. He adorned his COBRA beret and
turned to the wall and stared deeply at the picture of his former boss and mentor. I have
given COBRA more than Elson ever did and now your unit suffers another attack, an
insult, from the Americans. Eddie, I need your wisdom. Freedom sometimes needs
sacrifice although this is often a source of critique. Liberty has a price and that price
requires the souls of the damned. This movement of mine is not going as planned. He
saluted General Ross’s photograph and walked the five feet to the door leading to the
walkway between cars.
From what is fated comes a new beginning
Calvin Livingston sat down, quietly relieved to be rid of the sun. It had been terribly
moody outside with all sorts of crazy numbers coming in. 95% humidity and a 90 degree
temperature with no clouds drove almost every smart student into the shade. This day had
heat steaming from the God forsaken energy ball some million odd miles away. April
Holt strolled into the classroom and took her normal seat next to her knight in flaming
armor. “Hello Calvin…Calvin?”
Calvin turned his thoughts to the girl staring at his face for some sort of recognition. He
always had that ability to phase out the natural world in favor of the surreal. “Hello. I trust
that you stayed out of the sun. It is unbearably hot outside.”
“I know you survived. You do most of the time I have known you.” She smiled over the
sad frown she had wanted to display. She had heard from various people that she had
known the kid who had disappeared. He was an amazing boy having survived, without
any rigorous training, a sniper attack on the campus some months earlier. All men are
different but his divergence kept itself firmly rooted on the exterior. Calvin always
seemed to make a first impression only by appearance. His walk was smooth and
controlled and his expressions a work of art. (I have to milk any moment for character
development.)
Calvin turned his head to meet her staring gaze. No matter how many times their lives
came face to face, he blushed a color far darker than his hair. Emotions are weird and
complex drives that kept us alive in the days of yore. But right now, Calvin had that
feeling that he always wanted more. He had to fight at every moment the desire to have
more of her to the point where he went mad. He had to be a gentleman but so many facets
of life were exposing themselves at the most inopportune of times. A friend disappears
and murders almost a dozen people then is incarcerated with no bail and was to be tried
by a slow legal system for those crimes. Due to the speed of the judicial process and the
timing of David’s incursion, a mysterious group bails him out free of charge. Then Rob
goes missing and his gut instinct tells him to reveal what he knows. BOULDER, a fake
newsjob at CNN, and a promise of a grand retribution had all been Rob’s temptation to
leave this country. He had showed the note to his mother who promptly delivered it to the
Clarks and the police. He was being lured by delusions of grandeur. Now he had to live
life with a girlfriend while preparing for college. His quiet and reclusive nature did not
help to alleviate the situation. He wanted to scream.
“Calvin? What’s wrong? Michael keeps mentioning how aloof you are. Can we talk about
this now or sometime later?” She was deeply concerned for the man who had “freed” her
two years earlier.
Calvin decided to at least acknowledge her question before the bell rang to end lunch.
“From what is fated comes a new beginning, and that new beginning sometimes has its
obstacles to overcome.”
April pulled her eyebrows together in question. “What could seriously be bothering you to
the point of ignorance?”
“It isn’t ignorance that I am worried about. It’s pride…”
Hagan stayed in the front car, avoiding Bergan, just so that he could kill Brock himself.
He’d let the American snake weaken him and then it would be play time.
Bergan faced the door and said a line all too familiar to him in his line of work. Here’s to
another failed mutiny. He opened the door and climbed onto the top of the train and
pulled his hands to his sides while lowering his stance. He secured his footing and pushed
his body mass close to the ground to maintain balance. He’d wait for the poor sap who
though that height would procure advantage over a COBRA. Snakes knew how to jump as
well. The first black hawk approached and Bergan saw the leering face of the escaped kid.
Grenades will be of no use here. Now I send you to your brother. Bergan readied his
hands as the kid began to slide down the rope. He yanked out his knife.
“Pride?” April had no idea what he was talking about.
“A friend of mine has an ego that is now inflated. Another one is on the same path as the
other. David and Rob are together, I know it. It is only a matter of time before they both
come back to this place.”
“What does their return have anything to do with you? Why are you so worried about
Rob? David I can understand but Rob?” She remained in the dark.
“Rob and David are of the same suit. In Blackjack, you can get to twentyone in one deal
without having to hit. If Rob and David are that pair, I am sure that David is the King and
Rob is his Ace in the Hole.”
Four men descended, including Rastovski. Bergan dove upward and knocked one of the
men in the neck, throwing him into an unconscious fall. The other three slid down and
landed on the train as Bergan climbed into the first copter. The guns on the second fired
but stopped, not wanting to unintentionally down its comrade. Bergan operated the mini
gun attached. It was the M134 and Bergan used it to mow down the other two, leaving
Nikolas for last. He then turned the gun on the other UH60 and aimed for the back rotor.
There was no use in killing the pilots. They weren’t trying to kill him but only to deliver
his wouldbe assassins. The rear rotor began to slow and the helicopter pilot across from
him understood this as an aggressive warning. With one helicopter out of the way, he
removed one of his Berettas and aimed it at the helicopter pilot who turned around at the
clicking sound. Bergan removed his thumb from the hammer after having pulled it back
for dramatic effect.
“Your friend over there” He pointed to the other Black Hawk. “…got my message. I know
you will comprehend what I will do to you if there is not some conformity around here.”
The pilot nodded and turned around to move the helicopter away. Bergan pulled out his
other Beretta and dove out headfirst from the passenger bay. He fired three shots each,
totaling six, in the general direction of his final opponent. Nikolai, being no fool to
Bergan’s creative tricks, found safety some two feet behind him as he rolled backwards.
“I hope you enjoy this fight while you can.” Bergan grabbed the rope and righted himself
just before releasing it and landing feet first on top of the moving locomotive. He had
landed twenty feet from Nikolas on a different car’s roof. “You have a train to catch and I
hear your brother is just waiting to see you on the other side.” The both of them
regrouped and manintained their balance as the train began to make its turn. It was a
standoff with the both of them trying to figure out how best to disembowel the other. This
is what Nikolas had been trained for and now that the irony of the situation had abated,
the locomotive became Nikolas’s test of courage. He now had to take on an ancient and
grizzled veteran with a kill count spanning nearly four decades. Bergan charged having
read this rookie’s eyes correctly. “Many who play chess always go first for the rook to rid
it out of fear for its startling potential strength.”
Nikolas aimed his knife forward and forgot about the machine gun on his back. What
good would a weapon like a machine gun be in close quarters? I’m on top of a train with
a knife. I may have only one weapon but that’s all I need.
Bergan dove yet again, aiming his crosshairs on Nikolas’s head. His 92 only carried 10
rounds due to pure aesthetic and prideful lust for quick combat. With three gone from
each, seven rounds each would be all he could use. Three more darted out. He only had 8
more collectively.
“Nikolas heard the sound but had already begun raising his knife. It was as if his training
automatically responded. He was no longer in conscious control of his body. Two of the
bullets ricocheted off of his knife he completed a back handspring, flinging his knife at
Bergan. The knife caught the Major by complete surprise and barely missed it as the
sharp object penetrated his collarbone. Grunting as the other four bullets flew right
through Rastovski’s legs but also grunting with the pain of penetration, Brock Bergan ran
forward and emptied three more bullets toward Nikolas with the pure intention of
missing. He wanted to savor the experience of a good fight. He’d begun to lose hope the
day of challenge would never come. His last two cartridges remained his coup de grace.
Hagan closed the door to the outside slowly to ensure the element of surprise. How
Bergan will writhe in hate and agony! Hagan grinned and chuckled to his seemingly
brilliant coup d'état.
Bergan rushed to Nikolas and arrived before the young rook had his chance to gather
himself. Bergan kicked Rastovski in the face which forced Nikolas onto his back. Bergan
yawned. “So brilliantly done young rook. Welcome your death from the king of world
politics.” He pulled both triggers.
A mute anyone? (Hint: Mute+any=?)
Someone had removed a bullet from each gun intentionally. His shocked face peered into
the chamber as the slides locked into place. A head came up and over the ladder to reveal
the malicious grin of Charles Hagan. “Charles.”
“Hello Brock. Tables turn the easiest when nobody is watching.” Hagan’s 1911 govt. issue
knocked Bergan’s body back as its payload rammed into his collar bone right next to the
knife wound that still retained the knife. Bergan felt a tear begin to slide out of his eye.
Why? What have I done but your work?
“I’ve cleaned your clock and I must say that it looks nicer on my wall. You’ve been
helpful in teaching me and now I believe is the time for my kind to earn our VENOM.”
“Hagan, I expected this from you but not this far. I’ve known you to be plotting this but…
I am too old. I just want to know why you feel the need to remove me from the equation.”
He wanted to play the sympathy card. He needed to stay alive. The knife in his shoulder
had a roommate in the form of a lead projectile.
“War Plan Red.” Hagan simply said much to the chagrin of Bergan.
“What! YOU COULDN’T! I LOVE AMERICA!”
“Sometimes we lose love Brock. It is up to the widows to find another. You seem to be in
great pain and it is making me feel guilty.”
“You should. Treachery is a trench of guilt.”
“But Bergan, have you not forgotten something?” Hagan smiled, cornering his mentor.
“What have I forgot?” Bergan had to wipe that smile off his lying scumbag.
“It’s nothing personal…” Bergan went wideeyed and prayed to God. He was too late as
Hagan took a step forward to center his stride and pulled the trigger. For personal touch,
he raised the gun to his mouth and blew the barrel.
“It’s strictly business.” He motioned to Nikolas to follow him as the smoke from the
downed helicopters disappeared from sight. Bergan’s body shifted as the train made a
difficult turn and began to fall off. One of his Berettas did at least. Rastovski turned
around before descending the ladder and eyed his and Hagan’s trophy. If I did not know
any better, I’d say you were falling for me Brock?
Nikolas walked over to the now deceased Major and pulled the knife out of Bergan’s
body. He then began to remove the bullet Hagan had burrowed right next to the knife. The
bullet came out after a minute of hard work and found its way into the rookie’s side
pouch. He would keep it as a reminder not to ever grow too conceited.
“Your major sin will always be irreparable pride.” The body finished sliding off the train
and into the savanna. Hagan watched it through the windo Good riddance. He always
wanted to get close to the groundlings of Africa. Now is his chance. A lion would later
finish off the job. This would not be by coincidence.
Hagn turned to Rastovski and uttered a line his father had once screamed out of tempest
for arrogance. He admonished pride with words he will never forget: “Into infinity be
damned the irreparable pride of man.”
They both looked out into the horizon before retreating into the railway car below.
The deep voice rattled Hagan. “I am very pleased. Out of respect, I came to spook you.”
“How pleasant.”
“Send the kids home for now. We will let the CIA clean up their mess here. We’ll move
onto the planning phase for the November revolt.”
“So we are using their home location as a decoy?”
“Take those two states and we are gold. Now get to work. We haven’t got much time.”
Ophiuchus snarled.
“Operation:
Totalitarian ValuesTV
Three weeks after…
Calvin Livingston watched his TV at home, a Breaking News Report being shown.
Thankfully, the news wasn’t injured.
“A bullet flew through the air and pierced the head of he CIA Director as he walked
outside his house in Virginia. No other people were harmed. FBI officials along with
other law enforcement agencies have no leads. The FBI has declared this death a
professional job and is setting up a hotline for any leads. The US govt. is pulling in the
reigns on all contract soldiers, as the BOULDER involvement becomes a public issue. It’s
foreign activities discovered last week when a leak in the American Congress forced the
President to admit involvement in Africa. We here at FOXHOUNDNews ask that all of
its viewers ignore their ADD personalities and stay tuned to our pressed coverage.” A
newscaster can only read the cue cards. It is up to us the people to give their writers a
story. His mother asked that they change the channel to CSPAN. The President had
nominated a new Director and she wanted to hear the speech everyone had been babbling
about. Supposedly, this new Director was of the fire and brimstone kind and he would
indulge everyone on the reasons the President used to decide his country’s involvement.
(This was a satire of modern news media coverage of weapons and violence. Note how
the first sentence graphically describes the assassination in great detail instead of being
brief and courteous towards the victim’s family.)
Monday, May 16, 2005: Senate floor
“The United States Govt. has reason to believe that BOULDER members are planning an
international conspiracy to cause unrest on the African continent. Many people have been
sworn into the CIA as director without much worldwide attention but alas, luck fails me.
Most of my speech will be directed at the Congress and their supporters the people but
allow me first to delve into my decision to intervene in a private military company’s
troubles.” Jerrold Elson addressed the Senate. “It was our responsibility as protectors of
American interests to eliminate Brock Bergan or forcefully relinquish his ownership of
the BOULDER Corporation. I made the decision knowing of his many conquests and his
growing desire to move internationally. His ties to many underworld contacts made my
decision that much easier. If you want the full story, I am going to have to pull the
national security card. It is the choice of the weak kneed but right now my shins need it. I
cannot reverse what happened and neither will I admit wrongdoing. I did what I executed
because we needed him gone. The Bible says not to murder but when weighing the cost of
his demise against the worth of his life, the scales tipped in my favor. Justice is blind and
so it was with my decision. Now onto my acceptance speech. Now I must talk about a
growing treachery in our nation’s capital. It is my branch’s responsibility to maintain
enforcement of law by finding unrest abroad and keeping it off of American shores.”
Elson continued to relay his message. A message told through treachery. Alexander
Ridgemont, the 43rd President of the United States, said to himself upon electing Elson to
the CIA post. Elson gained control the day after the African Incident. Bergan had the CIA
director killed because he knew too much about COBRA. A COBRA can spit across
continents.
“A responsibility I admit is mostly mine. I was once in league with the man you heard
about three weeks ago. Brock Bergan and I worked for the most illustrious mercenary
group ever created. I was once a COBRA, the leader. I fought wars no US Citizen learns
in History class. The COBRAS have no loyalty to material ideas or countries and it is this
sole reason I resigned as head COBRA. I could not be allowed to maintain fidelity to the
COBRA doctrine by allying with America. Times change, the saying goes. Each human
has highs and lows. If everyone one of us were a mercenary at war, there would be no
need for peace or countries of yore. I came to this country unknowing of its strength and
patriotism. Misunderstanding can always create a giant schism. What matters now are the
lives our constitution says we must protect. Provide for the common defense, secure the
blessings of liberty, insure domestic tranquility, and promote the general welfare; these
are my daily obligations. They are no petty duties that are to be repeated with ease. Every
day a man works for his government he must be aware of the destruction he can cause if
he only is blind for a moment. Justice is blind so that man can rely on his eyes to protect
the good of mankind. Everyday I will work tirelessly along with the Executive branch to
build a fence around the African problem. We only approach Africa for it is harboring an
American pest, a weed of uncertain growth. Africa remains a glorious continent riddled
with petty problems that stem from cultural clashes. One culture thinks it is better than
the other and tries to stamp it out. Now this American menace seeks to take advantage of
the cultural differences and exploit them for political gain by forming an African
insurrection. To all of us I must add that man cannot play God. I say to Africa, drop your
weapons and hate only to join the rest of the world in ridiculous politics. For it is better to
squander money than to kill your own flesh and blood. Politics may not be perfect, but it
is better than power through murder. Hitler tried to be God, and ended up a man with a
gun halfway to his throat. No matter the beliefs, one thing is absolutely trustworthy in
life: faith. Put faith in thy fellow man and they will always be ready to stand. Ready to
stand for their family and friends. Ready to stand and deliver speeches or packages. Ready
to stand up for what they themselves believe in whether or not their answer means life or
death. Put no faith in what you see or hear or smell or taste. They are nothing more than
illusory feelings created for intrigue and study. Would you put something in your body if
you did not understand it? Ideas may not be tangible but they can corrupt. There are good
sights and bad sights, good tastes and bad tastes, good sounds and bad sounds, good ideas
and bad ideas. If someone were to tell you about a tree, the first thing that comes to mind
is brown branches and green leaves in summer, brown leaves in autumn, and no leaves in
winter. But what happens to the memory of a pine tree? Why is this image not triggered
in the mind? What of palm trees as well? People are trained for stereotypes and yet we
fight to defeat them? I say enough with them and their training. My staff will not use the
same methods twice and in the same situations. Enemies of peace, we must wage a
different battle. We must wage a battle that infiltrates a bad culture and wipes it out from
the inside. If it is worthy to survive, then it will persist and we will let it live.. If not, it
will die. The War on Terror as pushed by the Ridgemont Administration will not end until
the Son of God dethrones himself to clean up our dirty world. Those who say religion and
politics do not mix, I ask that you visit the 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries and on your
way past the gift shop, buy Thomas Paine’s common sense and maybe a stronger
constitution. Wars aren’t supposed to be quick. Anyone who says otherwise must have
failed boot camp. “The quickest way to end a war is to lose it.” You take out an enemy as
efficiently as possible but who is to say efficient is quick? Our government took forty to
fifty years to streamline the republic and now as our government turns liberal and
socialistic before our own eyes I must bow my head in shame. I have to use my balls here
and check the legislative branch. We enforce the rules and you pass them. If a legislator
cannot follow the rules of his or her country, would you as a person want to elect him or
her to the legislative body? Any donkey or elephant can criticize, but it takes a certain
proof of intelligence to give possible venues of perfection. Only fools sit and talk trash. A
true intellectual can back up an argument with facts, opinion, and direction. Without all
three of these points, an argument is nothing more than a salacious quarrel. For those
listening without understanding, that word is adult by nature. I will not demean my
writing by marketing myself to the masses. I am no prostitute. I seek enlightenment and
productivity over quick generations of money and stolen funds. Stolen funds provide a
taxing job for the wealthy elite. Surely enough I have wandered astray, driven by anger
and lust for superiority. My ramblings in this speech have shown you how inane and
abysmal the system has become. We flow our words without filtering or constructing
them clearly and precisely. We rant and rave until our hearts are content and our sexual
urges fulfilled. We rant when the time is perfect to gain the upper hand in the polls. I
myself must add that wherever there is a poll, there is a stripper willing to take his or her
clothes off for your pleasure. People say their head hurts when someone uses a big word.
Here is a doozy for those complaining of headaches: prodigious. This problem is
prodigious in that it is the single blocking thrombus in America’s arteries. It is
Cholesterol of the faithful that threatens to tear us apart through fear of loss. Do not stand
by your opinion unless you have given it proper thought. Do not say: “I hate the
Yankees!” A more acceptable construction would be: “I dislike the Yankees because they
always overpay their players in an effort to maintain their monopoly on baseball. Maybe
they should allow for a player to be able to choose where they want to play based on
personal preference instead of with their purse.” Now that makes more sense as it gave the
opinion, facts, and direction I felt were needed. It may be easier to just express general
hate for the Yankees but as all hate is, it’s one sided; it lacks objectivity. Subjectivity
cannot explain feeling to an objective world. It takes a sheer pedant to feel, but
intelligence requires character. Character professes that love has two sides but hate lacks
such broad power. Hate is easy, love is strong. Hate can tear relationships apart as hatred
does not bond for very long. A chemist could say hate is like hydrogen in that it bonds
poorly and can easily lead to separation. Love is more like a covalent bond between two
people. In ancient linguistics, the additive “co“ put before any word meant a sharing
perspective or of working together. Coworker, copilot, etc... Valent comes from the latin
Valere meaning: be strong, brave, worthy, powerful, honorable, and able.” Therefore,
through my logic and the logic of the elders, a covalent bond is a powerful, shared bond
between two atoms. In my analogy, those two atoms are people, groups, ideas,
governments, and political factions. Love breeds happiness and hate breeds war. To
protect your country is a passiveaggressive position and a lovehate relationship. Now
many people feel the need to take out of context the quotes of our ancestors. Here is my
cowboy quick draw of random quotes that if looked at a certain way can support my
opinion and my opponents. Ready? Draw! “In times of peace, prepare for war.” Flavius
has been right for centuries. Never,
never, never believe any
war will be smooth and easy, or that anyone who
embarks on the strange voyage can measure the
tides and hurricanes he will encounter. The
statesman who yields to war fever must realize
that once the signal is given, he is no longer the
master of policy but the slave of unforeseeable
and uncontrollable events. Have any amongst you heard this quote? I
have. I remember it as if it were many hours ago, in 1930. It was written before World
War 2 and as many know, the British survived. How did they manage many still ask?
They focused all efforts on defending their homeland and as a people they succeeded.
Tyranny has shaken mankind for centuries and held us in his strong grasp until we could
not breathe without cracking a rib. Tyranny shook that island in the 30s and 40s and if we
had not been weakkneed, we might have ended the war sooner. Why did I write such a
speech condemning our country’s ways when I work for that very country? The answer is
simple: People have an innate ability to lean on others for ideas and help. Individualism
has almost all but dried up like a grape. It is a raisin in the sun of liberalism and
collectivism. If I am not harsh now, look into the future oh crystal ball gazers of congress
into the future and see an America with no morals where kids run around doing
everything they want with no recourse. Satan would be proud. The “let’s group everyone
together and teach them at once” ideology. This lack of love for the individual will lead to
selfhate and then to insecurity through sheer neglect. Each student is unique and no
matter how standardized tests become, no education will be generic. You cannot teach a
bee how to fly like a bird. You cannot teach a crawling infant how to run a marathon. And
one can most certainly not teach an elephant on how to be a jackass. I will not stoop to
levels beneath myself in order to get the job done quicker. If you want mediocrity, go to a
country where they will allow it. I’m sure a few filmmakers could join you. This country
needs faith for without faith, you cannot hear what He doth saith. Whoops, my prose is
not as good as it once was. Now many may criticize me for not going into detail about
what I promise to do. To them I must sincerely add the words of my esteemed forefather:
They who would give up an essential liberty for
temporary security, deserve neither liberty or
security. I cannot give false confession to situations I may not be able to anticipate.
I am not a fortuneteller and never went to college to be one although I could not respect
any college who offered writing fortune cookie messages as a major. I can only give you
my word that I will respond to national security threats with respect for Congressional
and Executive fiat. They are my superiors and while they can call the shots as they see it,
I will use Justice, the great Lord in the sky, as my guide and opinion. Thank you for
electing me as your new director and may the Lord’s hands lift up the sinking USA from
the bowels of satanic scripture. For those writng down what I say, satan is spelled without
capital letters. By giving him a capital letter, we acknowledge his existence as one being.
No being rivals the Lord, no matter how inadequate his power is. Before I go, I wish to
close on the words of an American general who lost his position to mere perturbation. In
this world only one thing is certain, “There is no security on this earth. Only
opportunity.” Good night and good luck.” Jerrold Elson left the podium. Barely anyone
applauded save the confederates of conservative politics. The Senate immediately
understood how grave the situation was. Elson had tricked them into electing him by
acting more liberal. Elson was now an enemy of the Democratic Senate (Note to the
reader: we are a republic). His nomination comes as a result of what had happened three
weeks earlier in the heart of Africa. The fight for the Republic had begun. Who would
win? (My bets are on Cassius Clay for President. His slogan: Sorry Charlie, too fast for
you!)
the end
Compiled together as a full book on Monday, December 11, 2006 @ 10:47 PM