by L. M. Vila
“Worried about what?” The young Paladin inquired. “I cannot pass judgment on someone within twenty-four hours. This was a delicate situation. As an observer, the last thing I wanted to do was impede him on his mission.”
“But,” Adriel began quickly stopping and thinking over his words carefully. “Isn’t that what we were going to do should he,” he said while darting his eyes towards the FBI agent, “be deemed the one?”
Davis shook his head.
“It’s not that simple. We cannot afford to risk the life of an innocent based on one day’s worth of observation.”
The Cleric sighed.
“Forgive me sir. But, aren’t we risking the fate of humanity all on your assumption of that man’s capabilities.”
Those words hit Davis hard. His brow furrowed and grew angry.
“Who told you that?” He boldly asked with a hint of menace dripping in the air. “Where did you hear that?”
“I,” Adriel began to stammer slightly over his words. “It was a long trip and he insisted on accompanying me.”
“Who insisted?!” Davis snapped.
Adriel knew he screwed up. He didn’t want the most respected Paladin in the organization to foster an ill will than had already been established. The least he could do was finally be honest.
“Cariot.”
The door slammed on the trunk of the car. It was just as he feared. Davis rushed over to the FBI agent just moments to late. They appear to be deep in discussion with a demonically sinister look on his fellow Paladin’s expression.
“The world is such a big place. It’s going to take more than a few grenades to take it down, wouldn’t you say?”
Michael continued to dress as the Paladin openly talked. It was nonsense mostly coupled with a few amateur attempts to get a rise out of him. Nothing worth acknowledging but Nigel continued to show his persistence.
“I wonder Mr. Curtis, how much hate can a man’s heart hold?”
The FBI agent threw on the trench coat and began stuffing it with explosives. Each grenade was slipped carefully into the hand stitched metal latches. All it would take was one quick tug to release them. This Paladin had something similar in mind with his line of questioning.
“You’ve lost so much in such little time. Everything was going so well for you.”
Nigel continued to smile with his words carrying an almost berating tone.
“That begs the question, what’s stopping you?”
He stepped in closer and got within inches of Michael’s face.
“What is stopping the final antichrist from carrying out his destiny?”
Michael’s eyes locked with his for a brief moment. That told Nigel everything he wanted to hear so he continued.
“Is it empathy? Do you feel for these humans even though you are anything but?”
No response so far. There were still plenty more avenues that haven’t been crossed yet.
“How about duty? Did that woman who has you twisted around her finger coax you into believing that what you’re doing is justice?”
Still nothing. This man either had steel resolves or Nigel just didn’t hit the right button yet. The game wasn’t over yet.
“Perhaps it’s love.”
Michael stopped for a moment. The Paladin’s eyebrow raised. Out of all of his buttons, it couldn’t have been that simple. Unfortunately for Nigel, he may have been a bit too hasty. His eyes were locked on the FBI agent’s face he neglected to notice that he had stopped loading his coat with grenades and began securing magazines into his belt. That didn’t deter Nigel though he still believed there was a microcosm of hesitation on his target’s part.
“I think I've got it,” boasted Nigel. “It's revenge.”
That actually got the FBI agent to cease his actions. He could sense the anger flowing within Michael's body but that didn't deter him. It only motivated his cause.
“I knew it. Revenge was the obvious answer but I didn't take you for being driven by something so petty, so mundane, so boring even.”
The Paladin chuckled to himself. He was pleased with the trench he dug but still wanted to keep on digging.
“I can empathize with that. It's a good plan too. Slowly eradicate the filth of this world so that they're all buried in the ground just like that boy you let die.”
Michael slammed the trunk of the car and locked eyes with the pushy Paladin. Rage had consumed every available emotional response. Nigel didn't think it would be that easy but he decided to keep pushing anyways regardless that his physical well-being may very well be in mortal danger.
“I knew I'd find it,” Nigel smiled. “Go ahead. Pull the trigger. Let's watch this world burn together.”
“Cariot!” Screamed Davis as he quickly approached.
“Looks like we're out of time,” the Paladin waned. “Here,” he said while slipping a white card into Michael's jacket pocket. “If you ever feel like meeting your destiny, give me a call. I'd be more than happy to live up to mine.”
“Stop this at once,” Davis interrupted and forced himself between them.
Michael remained solid as a statue. He did not waver for even a fraction of a second. No one was better at intimidation but he proved he still had more to learn about control. Hearing his last failure spat back in his face appeared to be his only weakness. Nigel had no problems using that to his advantage. That's what he was known for. That's what made him the Eyes of God.
“What's the matter with you?!” Davis yelled between the cracks of his teeth.
He dragged his fellow Paladin a good distance away from Michael and anyone else that could hear them.
“Lay off me would you Cephas,” an annoyed Nigel sighed. “And what's with screaming our codes? In front of the chaos-bringer no less.”
“Listen here Nigel,” hissed Davis. “You may think you know what you're doing but I assure you, this is not the wisest course of action.”
“And you know what is?!” Nigel spat back. “Centuries of war, torture, and famine. You've seen it all and yet you can't see what's right in front of you.”
“Stop it,” Davis retorted. “Now.”
“Don't be so naive Davis. You knew him better than the rest of us. When has he ever been wrong? Who are we to fight what has already been written?”
His logic was sound. It was hard to argue against facts as clear and unrefuted as those. However, the Paladin was not one to give up quite so easily.
“What if,” the Paladin began. “What if they’re wrong?”
Nigel sneered.
“Blasphemy.”
“There is still so much we don’t know. What if it’s not him but someone else? Someone closer. Or, someone yet to reveal themselves.”
“Your constant sanguinity is only shadowed by your foolish sentiments,” his fellow Paladin scoffed.
The sheer audacity of Nigel’s claims were neither inaccurate nor welcomed. With even but one piece missing, this puzzle could not be completed. The Paladin’s next question bore even further into Davis’ emotions.
“I’ll placate your thoughts Davis,” smiled Nigel. “What would you propose instead?”
The Paladin thought deeply over his next words. They had to be carefully crafted in order to not arouse suspicion nor lay out any clearly laden holes to weaken the argument. It was a prevailing thought that had continually danced around his conscious since meeting the current candidate and may very well be the only thing that could truly save his life.
“Perhaps he is not the driving force behind Revelation. What if he’s merely the catalyst? His life could be the tether between salvation and destruction.”
It was a bold declaration. Nigel’s resounding laugh into the afternoon’s sky made the theory seem less plausible with every passing moment.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Are you actually saying he is our savior? I cannot believe you of all people could be so thick.”
Davis shook his head.
“That I don’t know,” he
replied. “But, I'm not ready to give up. Not yet. Not ever.”
The Paladin rolled his eyes.
“Well I guess that's what makes you his favorite now doesn't it?” He mocked.
“Why are you so quick to give up on this world?” Davis asked in a faithful attempt to instill some empathy into his fellow Paladin.
“First,” Nigel replied, “Tell me, are you willing to give up everything you know, love, and put faith into just to prove him wrong?”
“My loyalty, my faith, and my love all belong to one,” Davis answered with one finger pointing up to the sky, “And if He decrees it so, then so will I.”
“Ever the optimist,” Nigel smiled. “Go ahead. Waste your time and energy. I say we should just stand back and watch the fireworks.”
“That's what makes us different,” Davis said regaining his calm and lighthearted composure. “I believe in my faith. You only follow its orders.”
“Only until it's time dear brother,” replied Nigel.
He looked over the shoulders of his fellow Paladin and smiled.
“Looks like your companion has been plenty busy since our little chat started. You better go catch before he does something explosive.”
Michael watched the two Paladins begin their argument. He chose to tune their words out which always proved to be more difficult that not given his scientifically enhanced sense of hearing. An ample distraction soon presented itself as Michael heard the phone in his jacket pocket start to ring. Though it wasn't his personal phone, Michael's eidetic memory deciphered who was calling. And he probably wasn't very happy.
“This is Agent Madison.”
“Michael!” Shouted the S.A.C. He sounded more relieved than angry coupled with a large scoop of desperation. “What's your twenty?”
“Touched down in D.C. About to -”
“Abort your mission Michael!” Shouted Adrian. “Repeat, abort your mission. We have a new situation that requires your attention.”
“What?”
Michael never expected to hear those words come from his by-the-book superior. Something must have gone horribly wrong if Adrian Fischer is willing to disobey a direct order from the man sitting in the highest chair of the organization.
The S.A.C. began to relay the details. He covered everything from Logan's finances, to the hacker's confession, and finally caught up to the doctor. The President's life may be at risk but that not why Michael became intrigued.
“Dr. Shin Jung-ho?” The Michael asked.
“Correct. He was a former employee of A.N.K.H. Pharmaceuticals. His current whereabouts are unknown but he's been receiving funding from North Korean rebels for weeks.”
The pin dropped. Michael's head started filling with memories, information and scenarios. Everything started to make sense. Agent M couldn't have just magically appeared on the market. Someone had to have passed it along. General Yegor Semyon, the now deceased founder of A.N.K.H. Pharmaceuticals had sent out one last email before his demise. Their relationship still remained a mystery but now Michael knew who was Ryoo's benefactor and with the package in his hands, he wouldn't be able to hide for long.
“I know where he is.”
“What?!” The sound of disbelief in Adrian's voice was thick. “How? Where did you - you know what? Never mind. Forward me his address and -”
Michael silenced the phone. The less the S.A.C. knew about this the better. He powered the device off completely so as not to be disturbed. There was work to be done and it required this FBI agent's full attention.
With his gear in check, Michael was ready to go. The former A.N.K.H. Pharmaceutical employee was hiding out in a warehouse on 4th street according to his GPS. It was approximately three and a half miles away from the White House. Whatever the doctor was planning, it may have nothing to do with the peace meeting or it may have everything to do with it. Either way, Michael's goal was clear.
“Michael,” said the young Paladin as he approached his companion.
He looked over and could feel the aura of seriousness radiating off of the FBI agent's skin. There was nothing more to say.
“Are we ready to head out?”
Michael nodded.
“Here,” Adriel said tossing over the keys to his mentor. Davis caught them in quick succession and made his was over to the driver's seat. “Good luck Davis.”
The Paladin smiled.
“Thank you.” He paid a small glance over towards Nigel and begged the question, “So what are you two going to do now?”
“Don't worry brother,” Nigel chimed in. “We'll stick around. You know, in case you're in need of assistance to complete your mission or... What we have discussed prior.”
Davis slammed the door and started the engine. The FBI agent was uninterested in their squabble or discussion. The mission came first above all else. Thousands of different scenarios began racing through his head. He had no idea what to expect when they arrived but knew he had to prepare for the worst possible outcome. There was only one certainty Michael was aware of and that kept leading each scenario down the darkest path.
Agent M had been successfully weaponized.
March 27th, 2013 11:59PM
Las Vegas, NV
A rush of pain filled the S.A.C.’s hands as he attempted to crush his phone. The hardened plastic shell proved too much for his strength as he soon relieved it of any pressure. He stood outside the door trying to dial the same number over and over again but continued to receive the same robotic voicemail message in return. His call with the former Special Agent proved to be fruitful and alarming at the same time. Michael Madison was in the heart of enemy territory and right across the street was the home of the most powerful people in the world.
Though he had given Michael all of the particulars, the one piece of information he had neglected to offer was his updated employment status. Knowing him, it wouldn’t have mattered. Michael would probably work even better not knowing the truth for now.
Adrian pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid towards the shiny marble floor. His hands and fingers locked together gripping the phone in-between as they pressed against his tightened forehead. Protocol dictated he called his superiors immediately and updated them on the situation. They needed to know what was going on and more importantly, the potential for catastrophe that stood outside their gates. He continued to bounce the white knuckles off his forehead. Blood rushed to his face as he continued to contemplate the decision that stood in front of him.
There shouldn’t have been any hesitation. His could have already hung up with his superiors about all of the details regarding this newly found information. They could have traced Michael’s phone, pinpointed his location, gone in and cleaned up this entire mess without breaking a sweat. That, of course, is if this was just a standard operation. Adrian knew that’s how it would go down but given the complexity of this information, he continued to sit in silence. His hands never moved.
The phone remained silent.
For the first time in his life, Adrian Fischer was bending the rules and going off book. Knowing full well what this could do to his career, the S.A.C. decided to have the same faith in his employee as shown time and time again by his direct superior. It may very well cost him the career he’s worked for years to build. Given the circumstances, he finally took faith in the decision to ask for forgiveness instead of asking for permission.
March 27th, 2013 3:33PM
The Oval Office
Washington, D.C.
“I believe we've come up with a plan that best suits everyone's interests, wouldn't you say?” The President said with a smile.
Both delegates have been going over the information packets for the last few minutes and despite the best efforts of his analysts, strategists, and advisors, the General still seemed put off by the whole endeavor.
“I do not think you understand the plight of my people,” stated the General. “They have been under,” he struggled finding the correct word that didn't sound
terrible yet fully explain their situation, “quarantine for quite some time. It will take more than a few barrels of money to win their trust back.”
“Nonsense General Suh,” the President scoffed in a playful manner. “They only reason we're discussing a complete restructuring is because of the state your country is in. Our teams have been collecting data for months. Ms. Winters,” the President called. “Please share some of our findings with the General here.”
“Yes sir,” she replied. “According to our surveys, approximately seventy-five percent of all North Koreans are willing to or already confirmed they are open to foreign aid, support, and assistance. Eighty-three percent have stated they are in favor of a true democracy versus the previous system. And forty-seven percent say they would welcome American franchises into their country.”
“That is what I am talking about Mr. President,” Suh retaliated. “Most of my people have never heard of Wal-Mart or McDonalds. What would they know about it and how can you be so sure it is what is right for us?”
“General, this is just business.”
The President flipped through a few pages in the file and came across a chart with several logos and colored bars.
“You see this here. Each of these represents one of our companies that are willing, hungry, and desperate to build on your lands. And right here is the potential annual revenue each of them will bring to your country so that your new government can spend more on social programs, welfare, and other public sectors.”
“This is not a matter of simple economics Mr. President,” the General pleaded. “You're trying to force us to become like you. How do you know that is what our people want?”
“You're never going to know what they really want unless they are able to see all of the options available,” President Marshal extended his arm towards the South Korean President, “you're neighbors have embraced it and look how far they've come. We're trying to unite two nations. It's important in the interest of unity and fair play that both sides have the same access to everything available.”
“What you're talking about sounds like,” Suh began, “assimilation.”
