World Order

by David Archer

  Marco thought over that, guessing the man was probably right. "You don't seem that worried about it," he pointed out, bringing his knees up to rest his elbows on them.

  Swaggart chuckled again. "Yeah, these guys are nothing compared to some of the things I’ve had to deal with." He grinned. "If we are here long enough, maybe I can tell you some stories."

  Marco scowled. "You might start just by telling me what we're up against."

  The captain looked down, fiddling with his shirt. And then he sighed. "Look, it’s pretty crazy. Bunch of people, very powerful people, are working on a plot to take over the world. The whole thing with creating fake aliens, it’s all part of that plan, you knew that much, right? Well, the part you didn’t know was that I was a double agent. I work for the United States government, but I had infiltrated their organization." He shook his head. “A lot of good that did me, right?”

  "Why do you say that?" Marco asked wryly, resting his head against the cool wall. It helped his head slightly.

  Swaggart shrugged. "I don't know for sure why they wanted me," he pointed out. "I’ve been awake for a while, trying to figure it all out. Makes me wonder if maybe the top dogs in the organization are having some sort of falling out, because I know this wasn’t actually part of the plan." He shrugged again. "I don't know what they wanted with me, and I don't really want to know just yet. But I am sure that whatever it is, it isn't good, and hopefully our being together will work in our favor." He paused and looked around. "If nothing else, I guess we can keep each other company while they figure out what to do with us." He looked up at the ceiling. “Right, folks?”

  Marco looked at him with worry, but Swaggart pointed to a corner high above them. "They're watching us. And listening, no doubt. Seeing if we'll spit anything out."

  As if proving him right, the lights suddenly switched on and the two men groaned, closing their eyes quickly against the sudden brightness. Swaggart recovered first, barely a second before Marco, getting to his feet and looking around. At least he could see the door, now. Marco had been leaning against it the whole time.

  And then, proving Swaggart right, a voice echoed about the small cell.

  "We know what you're thinking, Captain Swaggart."

  The man scowled, and looked up at the now visible camera. "And what am I thinking?" he demanded loudly, hands on his hips.

  "On your feet, Agent Turin," the voice ordered, and, a little nervous, Marco got to his feet to await the next instructions. He didn't have to wait long.

  "Both of you face the opposite wall and put your hands against it. If you don't move, or make any attempt at escape, you will not be harmed."

  After a slight pause, Swaggart obeyed, though Marco could hear him muttering as he did so. Marco followed the instructions himself, feeling slightly out of his depth.

  "This is definitely not what I was thinking," Swaggart said.

  They waited patiently as the door buzzed and then clicked open, allowing three men to enter the room. Marco watched out of the corner of his eye as they approached, bindings in the hands of one of them. Beside him, Swaggart tensed, his body still as his eyes flitted around.

  The three men didn't even see it coming. Hell, Marco was waiting for it and he didn't see it coming. As the men split up, two headed for Swaggart and the other for Marco, Swaggart waited for them to close in and then he lashed out.

  He spun, elbow raised, and as fast as he moved, his aim was still good. His elbow crashed into the temple of the nearest guard, and the man fell to the floor immediately, unconscious before he hit. Swaggart barely seemed to notice, completing the spin and coming around to face the second guard.

  Marco decided to follow his lead, turning on his own guard with a mean right hook. The man blocked, but just because Marco wasn't some special ops superspy or whatever, it didn't mean he was helpless. The guard tried to block Marco’s move, leaving himself open, and Marco followed through with a left jab at his opponent's face.

  The guard ducked to the side, and Marco retracted his arm and delivered a massive blow to the guy's stomach. The guard grunted, bending double, and Marco put him down with a knee to the forehead.

  The man dropped, and Marco turned to find Swaggart nodding at him. "Nice," was all he said before turning for the door, stepping over the unconscious body of his second opponent. Marco followed him again, and they found themselves stepping into another room just like the one they had left.

  Swaggart growled in exasperation, looking around the square room. It was bigger than the cell they had just left, but there was no doubt it was still a cell. There was only one door, heavy and quite obviously locked. There were the same high ceilings and walls that were white except for one that held a large mirror. Marco punched at it with no effect, then sighed, realizing they weren't likely to leave their captivity any time soon.

  As if to further mock him, a laugh came over the speakers hidden in the room somewhere. Swaggart scowled and moved to the mirror, glaring through it, sure it was actually one-way glass.

  "What do you want?" he demanded loudly, angrily. The laughter broke off at his question, and there was a slight pause.

  "We have what we want," the same voice from before told him. "The Military Intelligence operative who has been causing so much trouble."

  Swaggart feigned ignorance while Marco tried not to look too interested. "I'm sorry, what?"

  When the voice came back, it was not amused. "Don't try to play games with us, Captain Swaggart. We know all about you, you see. It seems you made the mistake of allowing your communications through that stupid computer game to be intercepted. You were talking to the people you are supposed to be talking to, of course, but you were also sending messages back to your superiors at Fort Huachuca."

  Swaggart scowled, glancing back at Marco. "Well, you can’t win them all, I guess. If you know all that, though, then you also know that we’re onto you. What was the point in trying to capture me? All it’s going to do is bring more heat down on top of you.”

  The voice scoffed. "Please. No one is going to find you here. This building is very deep underground and there are dozens of guards between you and the surface, and dozens more waiting up above."

  "A lot of trouble to go to for little old me," Swaggart told them, feeling slightly nervous. What the hell did they want with him?

  "We've heard the stories," the voice told him lightly. "We’ve heard about your surprising record of getting out of tight situations like prison cells. Perhaps we simply wanted to see for ourselves what you’re capable of."

  Swaggart had the nerve to grin, shrugging and looking back at an overwhelmed Marco. "It's true," he said, as if speaking only to the agent. “I’m pretty good at it.” He turned back to the mirror. "So you really should let us go now, but I suspect you're going to be more interested in learning the hard way."

  "We have taken plenty of precautions, Captain Swaggart. Once we knew you were our mole, we began working on the plan to bring you here."

  "Excuse me!" Marco spoke up before anyone else could speak. He wanted to give the impression that he didn’t know what was going on. "Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

  When the voice spoke next, the owner was obviously positively delighted. "You really have no idea, Agent Turin? Captain Swaggart here is the military’s most brilliant agent."

  Swaggart glanced at Marco. "Told you you wouldn't believe me," he muttered as Marco looked dubious. "I'll explain it when we get out of here."

  Somehow though, Marco did believe it. After what had happened to him in the past few hours, he could definitely believe it. He shook his head. "I don’t even care. Just tell me this, what’s going on with these people who seem to think they are going to keep us locked up here?"

  "The rest is pretty much what you already know," Swaggart told him, punctuating it with a shrug. "Crazy people trying to make fake aliens, so they can scare the world into giving up their freedoms." He turned back to the window. "Which still doesn't explain w
hy we're here," he reminded the glass.

  The voice chuckled. "I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough. Now, please, will you not attack my guards this time? I really need them on their feet and able to function."

  Swaggart shrugged, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Can't make any promises."

  "Well," the voice acknowledged, “I didn’t really expect you to behave. However, I should tell you that we have brought the best of our hybrids here, and one of them is showing particular promise. Should you make any further attempt to escape, I’m afraid we will have to see how your friend Agent Turin likes him. Of course, that will result in the agent being ripped to shreds, but that is entirely up to you.”

  Swaggart glanced at Marco, his eyes glaring. Then he sighed. "I'll cooperate," he promised roughly, putting his hands up behind his head and turning away from the suddenly subdued Marco.

  The door at the back clicked, and five men in black entered, pistols in their hands. They were not carrying tasers this time, Swaggart noticed. He turned slowly towards them, doing everything he could to appear non-threatening. The one who seemed to be in control motioned with his pistol.

  "On your knees," he said to both of them, and, with a sigh, Swaggart obeyed only slightly before Marco, who was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had been happening.

  The guards didn't seem to notice as they none-too-gently grabbed his wrists and pulled them down behind his back, binding them quickly with something hard and thin, like wire. Obviously they didn't care about comfort, Marco decided. Swaggart grunted as the guard behind him gave his an extra tug and then heaved the man to his feet.

  Marco was ready when they pulled him up, and he dragged his feet underneath his body, steadying himself when the guard gave him a push in the back to get him started. When the annoyed and frustrated E & E agent glanced back, the man gestured violently with his gun.

  "Move it," someone ordered, and Swaggart stepped out in front, heading for the door with a surprising confidence as he left the others to follow. Marco decided that dealing with this sort of crap on a daily basis must leave a man highly desensitised to personal danger like being ripped apart by some kind of monster-human hybrid.

  Even more guards were waiting outside the door, and Swaggart nodded at them, apparently sizing them up. The men ignored him, two of them grabbing his arms to begin dragging him down the long, white corridor they found themselves in. Marco looked around, finally getting his head into something resembling order.

  "You guys really need a decorator,” he said. “This place looks terrible.”

  The guard beside Marco rolled his eyes, but the agent leaned toward Swaggart and whispered conspiratorially, his eyes wide with humor. "You know, this is like one of those bad horror movies."

  Swaggart played along. "You mean, the kind with mad scientists bent on world domination?" he whispered back.

  “Yep,” Marco nodded. "Crazy people who turn humans into monsters."

  "Complete with stupid minions to do what they’re told without even thinking about what’s really going on.”

  The guard holding Swaggart's arm didn't take too kindly to that. Stopping suddenly, he spun and rammed a fist into Swaggart's gut, so hard that the operative doubled over, gasping for breath.

  The hand on his own arm tightened, and Marco turned to the guard there, eyes all innocent. "Hey, he said it, not me."

  Swaggart coughed and stood up straight, panting slightly. "Sorry, I just naturally tend to hate people who get it in their heads to keep me prisoner." He cocked his head back the way they had been heading. "Shall we continue?"

  The guard scowled and pushed them ahead again, and Swaggart staggered a few steps before gathering himself and straightening. Marco was pushed into walking faster himself, but with the hands still on his arms, he was better able to stay on his feet.

  They didn't speak again before coming to a door some distance away from the cells they had been taken from him. Swaggart glanced back the way they had come, wondering if they might have passed a way out along the way, as the guard entered a code into the lock on the door.

  The guard pushed him through as soon as it was fully opened. Swaggart stumbled into the room, looking around as he managed to stay on his feet. The room was full of computer monitors and other equipment, and there were several people inside. He inched closer, and found himself looking down into an isolation cell, just like one he’d seen before. Except unlike the one in his memory, this one had an occupant.

  Swaggart's breath caught in his throat, and he walked forward, looking down on the man imprisoned in the bare isolation room. Marco walked forward with him, jaw dropping as he took in the pacing, hunched over, growling man. It was the first living hybrid he had actually seen up close, and the visage shocked him to the core.

  Swaggart, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was looking at, and the anger he felt at seeing a man turned into such a creature welled up in him until he could not hold it back.

  "You bastards," he spat, turning to find four men in the room behind them. "You have no idea what you've done."

  One of the men smiled and stepped forward. "We don't have to know what it is," he said coldly, and both Marco and Swaggart recognized the voice they’d heard through the speakers. "We just have to create the best soldiers the world has ever seen."

  Swaggart snarled. "That soldier isn't a soldier any more," he snapped. "He's fodder. He's angry, and an animal, except he won't kill to eat, he'll kill for pleasure. You have no right to play God like that!"

  The man in the suit looked through the glass at the creature. “His name was James,” he said. “Would you believe that he still responds to it? If I were to call him by name, and tell him to kill you, he would do so. He is incredibly well trained, if I do say so myself.”

  It was Swaggart's turn to cut him off. "And what good would that do you?" he demanded, taking an angry step forward. "You may have created an obedient killer, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are the real monster in this room."

  The man turned to him and laughed. “You really are quite amusing, do you know that?”

  "Who are you?" Swaggart spat after a moment of tense silence. "Who do you actually work for? I know it isn’t the Coalition, because this wasn’t part of their plans. And while I’m asking questions, just what the hell am I doing here?"

  "It doesn't matter who I am or who I work for," the man told him, walking forward towards the glass so he could peer down on the changed soldier. "As for why you're here, well, get a good look, Captain," he ordered, nodding down at the man pacing restlessly like a rabid dog in a cage.

  "In just a few days, that will be you."

  EIGHTEEN

  Feeling helpless and useless, and really, really frustrated, Litchfield stood in the middle of the now abandoned, bloody and smelly warehouse, taking it in while Neil was doing his best to find something that would help them locate Swaggart and Marco.

  Cursing, he turned on the spot, just looking for something to spark a light bulb in his head, so he could rescue Swaggart before he was turned into one of those creatures. Despite learning that Swaggart had actually been working against what the Coalition was trying to do, he still couldn’t bear that thought. He had convinced himself there would be something here to find that might help, but so far, he had turned up nothing.

  "Dammit," he snapped at no one in particular, though there were a few soldiers nearby that heard, and they gave a small grin where they thought he couldn't see. He ignored them; they didn’t deserve his attention, not when he was so focused on trying to help his friend.

  His friend? That might not be accurate, but no matter what happened after this, Litchfield couldn’t bear the thought of Swaggart becoming one of those things. For the past few years, he’d thought of the man as his best friend, but even knowing that Swaggart would have eventually seen him arrested, he still couldn’t find it in his heart to want the guy harmed.

  "What's the problem?"

  Li
tchfield jumped, swearing as he turned around to find Neil feet from him. He scowled at the younger man, crossing his arms and preparing to relieve himself of his annoyance.

  "What do you think?" he snapped. "Swaggart's missing and this warehouse is useless!"

  "We don't know that yet," Neil argued back, not backing down. He worked under Noah, and Litchfield's snarl was nothing in comparison to some of the things he’d seen. "We haven't even gone through half of the evidence yet."

  "But it was a trap," Litchfield reminded him, though not liking the reminder himself. "Why would they leave behind something that could bring them down when they knew they were going to have to give the place up once they got what they came for?"

  Neil shrugged slowly. "Okay. Good point. But you agreed we should check this place out."

  Litchfield threw his hands up. "Yes, and I have no idea why. If I did, then I wouldn't be standing here having this conversation!" He turned in a circle again, looking over every part of the warehouse he could see. "There has to be something here."

  "Okay," Neil placated. "But we don't know what we're looking for. So, why don't we stop looking for what we want, and try looking for what we need?"

  Litchfield glared at him for several seconds before his face softened. With a huge sigh, he shrugged. "Okay. So what do we need?"

  "That's easy," Neil told him, looking around. "Something that points to who was behind this."

  Litchfield looked at him for a moment and then scowled. "Well, we already know that's not here." He rubbed his face. "Okay, let's go with your idea, but let's try another angle. What did the people behind this need?"

  "Easy again," Neil nodded. "Captain Swaggart."

  Litchfield looked around, thoughts swirling through his mind as he nodded. "Right. But, first, just how did they know who Swaggart was? How would they know where to set the actual trap for him, so they didn't kill him by accident before they could grab him?"

  Without waiting for Neil to reply, he moved towards the back room where the van had been waiting for Swaggart, muttering to himself. Neil followed, watching him curiously.