Just kidding. I'm going to double post. I'm just going to stick the rest of it here in spoilers.
Part 1:
Something was different. Something had changed. … It… didn’t know what it was. It tried to identify the change, but couldn’t. What was it? What was IT? It thought, tried to remember, and moved.
So surprised was it by this movement that it froze. It had forgotten it could move, and this sudden return to activity was shocking. Then, like a cult stepping into the rain, it moved again. With this movement, the thing that was different, changed again. Even as it moved to see what else the thing would do, feeling returned. It could feel its arms and legs, and it wiggled its fingers. Then it… looked… up, and saw the thing that was different. It was light.
The thin shaft of light, stabbing like a spear through the darkness, awakened its brain a bit more, and it began to remember. It...no, he, looked around some more, saw his right arm in the beam of light. So strange it was, to be seeing again. He felt around his wrists metal manacles, and realized that his feet were not touching the floor. He was chained to the ceiling of whatever room he was in. He looked down, and saw the point where the light touched the floor. It was no more than two feet below him. He moved a bit more, and found that he felt strong. He found this strange, but decided it would only help him.
He began to pull on the chains, and at first only succeeded in lifting himself farther from the ground. Then he felt a sharp jerk on his right arm, and heard a loud Snap! His right arm fell free, but he didn’t notice. The sudden noise had overloaded his ears, and his head ached as if he’d been hit with an anvil.
A moment later, he recovered, and realized he was only hanging from his left arm. Remembering how easily the right chain had snapped, he knew all he had to do was give a slight pull. He grabbed the chain in his right hand, and hauled himself up. When he felt some slack on his left side, he let go.
He fell, felt a jerk in his left arm, heard the chain snap, and hit the ground. He had forgotten to put his feet down, and had instead fallen on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He lay on the hard ground for a moment, catching his breath. After standing up, he looked around. There was still only that small shaft of light, but he could see from it that the ceiling was a good fifteen feet up. He moved closer to the source of the light, and found that it was a hole about the size of his head, at a point where the ceiling met the wall. Just below it, he could make out the pieces of rock that had once filled the hole.
He realized that if that part of the ceiling had collapsed naturally, then it was very weak indeed. The amount of chain that had come off of the ceiling with his wrists was minimal, so he looked around for the spot where he had hung only moments before. He crouched, then leaped up. He flailed his arms, looking for the chains. As he reached the top of his jump, he found them, and grabbed on. as he came back down, there was sharp Crack! and light streamed in above his head. As he landed, the chunk of rock attached to the top of the chain fell next to him, and he realized that he easily could’ve been crushed by it.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, a small rock fell on his shoulder. He looked up and realized that the whole ceiling was destabilized, and would likely collapse any moment. As pieces of stone began raining down, he tried desperately to reach a clear area. Just as he reached the spot where his chains had hung, a huge slab grazed his right shoulder. He fell into the open, and saw blood welling up from a huge gash. It stung like a thousand needle pricks.Then, unexpectedly, the blood slowed down. Its flow lessened, and he could see the gash begin to close. He was healing, at an impossibly fast rate.
As the pain faded, he looked around at the now bright room. It wasn’t big, maybe ten feet by ten. He then looked down, at his now dust covered body. He had pale skin from being away from the sun for who knows how long, but his body showed no signs of malnourishment.
As he contemplated this newest development, he realized he was wearing no clothes. For some reason he could not fathom, this created a fleeting sense of panic. Why should it matter if he were covered or not? Shaking his head, he turned his attention to getting out.
It occurred to him that he should find a door, but a quick glance at each wall revealed no such opening. He had been sealed away, with no intention of release. Looking up, he saw that the walls all ended where the ceiling had met them. Without a second thought, he ran towards a wall and leaped at it. He planted his foot on the wall, and pushed up. Aided by the momentum of his leap, as well as his height, he was able to just grab onto the top of the wall with one hand. He swung his other hand up, and slowly hauled himself up.
He found himself on a barren plain, dotted here and there by small shrubs and rocky outcroppings. He realized that his prison had been embedded in the ground, and a quick look behind him revealed that the top of the ceiling would’ve looked just like this plain. Someone had really wanted him gone. Well, he was free now, so he might as well leave. He chose a direction, and started walking.
After only a few minutes, he saw a strange strip of land in front of him. It was solid black, and seemed to be made of thousands of rocks glued together. The word road entered his mind, followed shortly by the word asphalt. He had no idea what these words meant, but guessed they had something to do with the thing in front of him. Come to think of it, he had thought many things that made no sense. He remembered thinking of anvils, and cults, but he had no idea what those things were.
As he contemplated these odd things, he realized the light was fading. He looked up, and realized that not only was there a source for the light, but that it was moving, ever so slowly, towards what looked like the edge of the world. He felt a wave of panic as he remembered the cold, stifling darkness of his prison, and rushed off towards the sinking light.
After a while, he realized that he was on a slope, going up towards the quickly fading light. He pushed on, hoping to find the light on the other side of the rise. Joy filled him as he neared the top and light began to grow, and he sprinted towards the crest. Just as he reached it, just as the light was at its brightest, something hit him. He was lifted off of his feet by a force like an explosion, and flew backwards. As he landed, his head hit the ground and the world winked out.
Part 2:
He awakened to a strange sound. After a few moments, he identified it as voices, two people talking to each other close by. He slowly opened his eyes, and saw darkness. For a moment he panicked, thinking he was back in his cell, but then he felt the ground under him, and his hands were free to move. Then the pain hit him.
He groaned, as all of a sudden the feeling of having been hit by a flying boulder filled his entire body. A voice over to his left said,”Hey, he’s awake.”
“Alright,” said another voice, “let’s get this over with.” Two beings moved to stand over him, one on each side. One held a light source, and he could see from their faces that they were men. They both wore copious amounts of covering, even so far as to have what looked like metal head coverings.
“Hey,” said the man on his right, “you alright, man? What were you doing running around in the desert at night?”
“I was chasing the light,” he tried to say. But, all that came out was “Iwachlit.” He felt strange trying to pronounce the words, and remembered that he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
“Eh, he’s just some weirdo on drugs. Just leave him, Joe. Less paperwork,” said the one on the left.
“Wait just a sec,” replied the one on the right, “look at him. Not a scratch! Do you know how fast we were going, Carl? I hit eighty easily.” Joe looked across at his partner. “He should be dead. You know the boss would want to see something like that.”
“Eh, fine,” said Carl. He looked down at him, and said, “hey, come on. We’re going to take you to see the boss.” The men reached down and hauled him to his feet, then began guiding him to their truck. He shook off their hands, and walked towards the truck on his own. He looked at the strange object before him, not understanding what it was. It was large, almost twenty feet long, and made almost entirely of metal. It had hard edges, and was raised off the ground on four heavy, circular things.
“What is this?” he asked.
“What’dya mean?” asked Carl, “it’s a truck. Now get in the back.” They guided him around the back, and Joe opened the large, metal doors.
He looked inside the dark, cavernous interior, and a panic set in. “What’s the matter?” asked Joe. “Just get in.” The two men tried to push him in, but he panicked harder and pushed back. They grabbed his arms, and he began struggling. “No,” he said, “not again.”
“Just get in the damned truck!” said Carl. Joe stepped back and pulled a strange metal object from a pouch at his waist, and pointed it at him.
“No!” he roared. “Never again!” He flung the other man off of him, and turned to run. Suddenly there was a loud crash, and a flash of light from the man with the strange object. Accompanying these two strange things was a punch in his shoulder, followed by an immense amount of pain. He roared, and turned to the obvious source. He charged, and there was a clink as something fell from his shoulder. “What the hell!?” Carl exclaimed, a second before he was bowled over. then he was on top of him. Punches rained down, each with the impact of a sledgehammer. Carl was dead before the third swing, but that didn’t matter.
Moments later, he felt another impact, this time in his back. He grunted, turned, and saw the man he’d thrown earlier holding another of the strange objects. Rather than charge again, he picked up the body from beneath him, and hurled it as hard as he could at Joe. The body hit Joe’s chest with an audible Crack! and he collapsed with a wet gurgle. He breathed heavily, and looked at the two bodies. The pain in his back slowly faded, and he looked at his surroundings.
Up in the sky was a strange round silver thing that gave off light. This gave comfort to him, because he no longer had to chase the light. He decided it was best if he just continued with his original plan to wander until he found some more people. More friendly people, he decided, who didn’t try to imprison him in the dark.
Before he began walking, however, he heard a scrape behind him. He turned and saw two people walking towards him, one short and one tall. They were wearing what appeared to be a single huge piece of cloth that obscured everything but their heads. They each had more cloth wrapped around their heads, showing only their face and a bit of hair. He immediately dropped into a crouch, ready to run or fight, depending on their actions. The tall one stopped short and put his hands up, in a gesture of supplication.
“Woah, “ he said “we’re not here to hurt you. We’re not with them, those other guys-- Ow!” He looked down at the short one, rubbing his arm.
“Marcus!” she said, and turned to the Man, “Sorry about him. he babbles when he gets nervous. We’re here to help, but first, I’m going to have to ask you to put on some clothes. I can’t talk to you with that going on,” she said, gesturing to his lower body.
Even as she spoke, he realized that this was in fact a woman, and looked down. Maybe, he thought as his cheeks began burning, clothes wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“We’re talking to a guy who just pummeled a pair of soldiers to death singlehandedly, and you're worried about his clothing?” said the man, turning to her. As she turned back, he took the opportunity to go to the dead men and take some of their clothes. As he stripped one of them, he heard the two newcomers’ banter in the background.
“Yeah, “ said the woman, “it’s gross. I don’t know what you guy’s think, but running around with your dick hanging out is never cool. Ever.”
“I don’t know about you, but if he can smash one guy with another, than he can wear whatever he does or doesn’t want.” The man’s tone had a bit of amusement as he said this, and he could tell this was a somewhat familiar conversation.
He stood up and turned back to the people, now fully clothed. “Sorry about that,” he said, his voice raspy from lack of water. How long had it been since he’d had a drink? “I kind of just got here. I... don’t remember much.”
“You alright?” said the man, a note of concern entering his voice. “Sounds like you have dry throat. Here, have some water.” The man offered a small metal container, and he could hear liquid sloshing inside. “By the way, I’m Marcus, and this is Sevina. If I may ask, how’d you get in the middle of this desert?”
As he drank thirstily, he pondered the question. After a little, he replied,“I… came out of a hole in the ground.” Then, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, he stuttered, “I mean, I was imprisoned in a cell just below ground level, somewhere near here. I don’t know for how long, but I recognize nothing in this area. I believe I have lost my memories.”
“Hmm,” said Marcus. “You don’t look too bad for being in prison. But, you did just get hit by a truck, and get up without a scratch. Alright, I’ll buy it. What’s your name?”
He looked at Marcus blankly. “I... don’t remember,” he said slowly.
“We can call you John,” suggested Marcus, “that’s a nice generic name. They always use-- Ow!”
“Marcus! What the hell!” said Sevina, “you can’t just give him a name. He should choose.” She looked at him expectantly.
“I, uh, don’t really know any names,” he said. “I suppose John will do. It makes no difference to me.” Sevina gave an exasperated sigh and crossed her arms.
“Alright then, John,” said Marcus, “How ‘bout you come with us? I can’t imagine you have much of a home, if you came from a hole in the ground. We’ve got food and shelter, not to mention light. I can’t stand this darkness.” He paused for a second, then his partially obscured face brightened. “I’ve got it! Why don’t we ride back in the truck? I could certainly use something new to tinker, and it could be useful for...well, getting places.”
John bristled. “You’ll have to defeat me to get me in that dark hole.” Marcus and Sevina backed up a step, momentarily panicking, then Marcus moved towards the truck. He climbed into the back, and a moment later a light came on. “Hey, man,” he said, “I don’t like the dark either. Hop on in while I find the keys.” As he moved towards the soldiers’ bodies, John and Sevina climbed in the back of the truck. Sevina closed the huge metal doors behind them, and a moment later John saw Marcus get into another area of the truck, through an opening opposite the doors. “Hold on,” he said, “This is going to get bumpy.” Then the machine roared to life, and the sound of grinding dirt accompanied a jerking motion, which soon became a bit smoother. John realized that they were moving forward, very fast. Within moments, they had left behind the dead bodies of the two soldiers.
Part 3:
The sun was beginning to rise. Marcus checked the dashboard clock, and saw that they had been driving for almost three hours. “We’re almost there!” he shouted back to Sevina and John over the roar of the truck’s engine. He began scanning the horizon, looking… There! he turned off the asphalt road, and began heading towards a particularly large rock outcropping. The suspension was absolute crap, but Marcus’s mind was elsewhere.
He still couldn’t fathom what he and Sevina had found. John, from what he’d seen, was basically like Wolverine without the adamantium or claws. Extra strong, and a healing factor of ridiculous proportions. He really hoped Brandon was manning the checkpoint. Brandon was after all his oldest friend, and a bigger superhero fan besides. He could imagine the look on Brandon’s face when Marcus told him. It would be gold.
Marcus drove the truck into the shadow of the outcropping, and stopped in front of a boulder. He turned off the engine, and shouted back. “Stretch break!” He himself hopped out of the cab, and moved towards the boulder. He felt around a bit, then grabbed a tiny protrusion. He slid it to the left, revealing a flat, grey metal surface. He pressed his thumb to it for a second, then removed it. After another moment there was a loud grinding sound, and an opening appeared in the side of the outcropping to his left. By now John and Sevina had come up behind him. “Alright,” he said, “Let’s go.” He led the way into the opening, which led to a stairwell leading down beneath the earth. Old fluorescent lights lined the outer sides, exposing the dirt and rust that coated the place.
As they neared the bottom of the staircase, Marcus began speaking. “Alright John, I’m going to have to ask you a favor. I don’t know how much you know about our time and the recent events, so let me tell that it isn’t good. There is a big bad government out there, and my friends and I are hiding from them. You got rid of a couple of their soldiers out there, so I’d guess you aren’t with them. But we still need to take precautions. As such, we are going to scan you for tracking devices, and brain control neurotech. We are also going to have to screen you to see if you are an enemy agent. It’s just a few questions. That sound okay?”
John looked mildly confused, but said “I suppose so.”
“Cool,” replied Marcus. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted.
“You always do that Marc,” said a voice just around the corner. “You should just let them figure out what's going on. It’s more fun that way.”
They turned the corner, and found Brandon standing there, arms crossed. He looked at Marc, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Not this time, Brandon,” said Marc. “This is one guy you DON’T want to surprise.” Brandon raised his eyebrow skeptically.
“Oh really? What makes you say that?” he said, looking John up and down. Marc knew he was considering his chances in an arm wrestling match against the admittedly well built newcomer.
“Well for starters, he got hit by an armored car doing at least seventy. And is okay,” Marc said, as he moved into the room behind Brandon. It was a small room, no more than 400 square feet. In the center was what looked like a metal detector, with tables on either side. Marc moved towards the table on the left, and booted up the laptop that was sitting there. “After that, he killed the two soldiers with his bare hands and literally no clothes, and took two bullets in the process. I saw it with my own eyes. Not through the scope, my own eyes.” He looked up from his typing, at Brandon’s bemused face. “Dude, he’s got a healing factor. Straight up Wolverine, spit up bullets status.” He turned to John. “Hey, John. Can you come stand under this thing over here, and keep your hands by your sides?” John walked over, and stood underneath the metal detector. Marc hit a button on the laptop, and the detector made a whirring sound. He looked at the scan image that came up on the screen. “Good news, John,” he said, looking up. “The only tracking device is in the breast pocket of that jacket you picked up. No neurotech at all. We’ll get that device off, then scan the truck upstairs, and we’ll be good to go.”
“Ok,” said John, “But what’s a tracking device? And what is neurotech? And what is this thing you had me stand under?”
Marc breathed took a deep breath. “That’s right,” he said, “Hole in the ground. Lots of years. Alright here goes the long story short: Nowadays, everything is based off of electricity. That's basically harnessing the power of lightning. We use that to power things called computers, which do pretty much any task you can think of. A tracking device is a kind of computer that gives off a silent signal that is picked up by another type of computer, at our enemy’s base. They can use that signal to track the device, and therefore anyone who has it with them. Neurotech is a very recent invention. It is really small computer that hooks up to your brain, and allows someone at another computer, usually the enemy, to control you. It’s sadistic, and from what I’ve heard, painful. The thing you stood under is merely a device which scans for these thing in between its two sides.” Marc stopped to take a breath. “That probably made no sense. But I can’t explain it better until later, so that will have to do.” John shrugged in acknowledgement.
“Wow Marc,” said Brandon. “You need to work on your explaining.”
“Hey man, I just work here. Don’t ask me,” Marc shot back with a grin.
Suddenly, there was a grinding from up above, and the sound of footsteps came down the stairwell. A moment later, a tall, well built blond man stepped off the stairs. “Hey guys. Relief is here,” said Joel. “Hey, who’s that?”
“That,” said Marc, looking up, “is our new friend John. He’s not NWG, he’s just borrowing their clothes. He helped us get that nice truck up there.”
“Sweet,” said Joel with a laugh. “He’s cool in my book.”
“Well, I’d better check the truck for trackers. Hey John, can you hand me the device in your breast pocket?” Marcus watched John fumble with the unfamiliar garment, then turned around to grab a handheld scanner. He turned back, took the tracker from John’s outstretched hand, and headed for the stairs. “Don’t kill each other,” he called behind him, and headed up.
Once up top, he proceeded to scan the truck. He took no chances, checking every inch inside and out. He found three trackers.
Marcus took the trackers about a hundred yards into the desert, and dropped them on the ground. He turned, and picked up a large rock, to reveal a pile of other trackers. He put in the new devices, replaced the rock, and dusted himself off. Satisfied with his handiwork, he headed back to the checkpoint.
He walked back down the stairs, and found everyone standing in a circle, talking. “You corrupting John’s mind already?” he said, walking into the circle. “We’d better leave. It’s not a good idea to have this many people away from base for this long.”
“Agreed,” said Brandon, suddenly anxious to leave. “You guys can take the truck. I’ll catch a ride with Jack.”
“Alright,” Marc said, “John, Sevina, you're with me. Joel, you're stuck here.” Joel responded with fake puppy dog eyes. Marc laughed as he led the way upstairs.
At the top, an old, dusty jeep had pulled up. “Hey Jack,” called Marc. “You just have Brandon today. The rest of us will take the new ride.” Jack, the jeep’s driver, nodded his acknowledgment as Brandon climbed into the passenger's seat. Marc climbed into the driver’s seat in the truck, and as soon as he heard the rear doors close, he started the engine and followed Jack and Brandon east, towards home.
Part 4:
They hadn’t been driving long when a Brandon spotted a plume of smoke on the horizon. He paid it no mind, wanting only to return home to his wife, but his radio crackled and Marc’s voice came out.
“You see that smoke?”
“Yeah,” replied Brandon, knowing what was coming next, but hoping otherwise.
“I’m going to go check it out.” said Marcus, “I’d appreciate some backup.” They both knew Brandon was the better fighter.
“Fine,” replied Brandon. He was, admittedly, curious. Jack turned towards the smoke, following Marcus.
The smoke was coming from just behind a ridge. As they reached the top, they was the smoking ruins of what appeared to be a plane, and government issue at that. Brandon hopped out of the jeep, and started walking to towards where Marcus and the others were standing. He heard the door slam as Jack got out behind him.
“I’m impressed,” aid Marc as Brandon approached. “that this plane crashed.” Brandon gave him a confused look. Planes crashed all of the time, didn’t they?
Marcus saw the look. “It’s a transport plane. they’re big and slow, and practically fly themselves. The pilot is basically a formality. And this fool managed to crash it.”
“Ah,” said Brandon, not particularly interested. He scanned the wreck looking for anything of interest. He was just about to give up when he heard a gunshot, followed by a grunt. He looked to his right, and saw John clutching his right arm. Then his instincts kicked in, and he dove for cover. There were a good number of boulders for cover and he dove behind one, next to Marc. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that John hadn’t moved. He was standing there, looking in the direction the shot had come from. Another shot rang out, and John’s left side jerked back. He roared in pain, and began running towards the still unseen attacker.
Brandon drew his sidearm, and peeked over his cover. He could see the attacker now, a tall, well built man in a tattered NWG uniform holding an assault rifle. The assailant put his gun down in shock as he realized he’d just seen John shrug off a pair of bullets to the torso like they were nothing. Not important, he thought to himself. he poked his pistol over the rock, and took advantage of the attacker’s preoccupation with John to fire a few shots. The first hit the man’s right shoulder, and there was a loud Ping! as the round ricocheted off. The man turned, and the next bullet grazed his left thigh. He raised his rifle and fired just as Brandon ducked behind the rock again. He turned to Marc, “He’s got a cybernetic arm. Face plate too. Bullet proof."
“Crap,” said Marc, “That’s an Enforcer. This going to suck.” suddenly, They heard a roar. Marc poked his head around the side, then turned to Brandon. “John just trucked him. Straight up football tackle,” he said, with a bit of awe in his voice. He looked over the top, and Brandon followed suit. They saw John and the Enforcer locked in a grapple, the rifle off to the side where it had apparently been dropped. John was holding his own quite well, and appeared to have superior strength, But his opponent had far more experience, and quickly gained the upper hand. In one swift motion, he spun John around, and kicked him into a nearby boulder. John groaned and slumped to the ground. Even as he saw this, Brandon was hopping the boulder and rushing towards the fight, knowing his only hope was to prevent the Enforcer from getting the rifle. The man turned just in time to receive a faceful of Brandon shoulder, and was knocked flat. Brandon grinned viciously as he leapt on his opponent. He swung for the face, but the Enforcer’s right arm came up to block. Brandon hadn’t been expecting the metal appendage, and only barely shifted his blow to avoid breaking his hand. The attacker hit with a boxer’s left hook, knocking the wind out of Brandon. and was already following up with his right. Brandon leaned backwards, then pushed himself off of the man to avoid the strikes. As they stood to face each other, Brandon realized that his opponent had far greater reach than him. He briefly did some combat calculations, then rushed forward.
They exchanged a series of blows, Brandon using a variety of martial arts against his opponent’s obvious training as a boxer. In the end however, the metal arm gave the Enforcer an advantage, and a devastating right uppercut left Brandon groaning in the dust. That was when Marc hit.
Marc, of course, couldn’t hold his own against this guy. He was a pilot, not a fist fighter. But he tried, and lasted almost twenty seconds before joining Brandon on the ground. Then John came back, hitting the Enforcer like a freight train.
The Enforcer flew off his feet, and from where Brandon lay he could almost imagine the comical look of surprise dawning underneath the assailants mask. He rolled as he hit the ground, and came back up in a defensive stance just as John reached him. They began exchanging blows. John didn’t appear very experienced, but his healing factor and super-human strength kept him up for far longer than Brandon.
the Enforcer had just opened up John’s defenses and had him by the throat when there was a sharp Crack! The man let go of John, and he slumped to the ground. Brandon sat up, wincing in pain, and saw Sevina standing behind the man holding the rifle like a club. He also saw John moving towards the downed man, hate in his eyes.
“No!” yelled Marc, “Stop! We need him alive!” John stopped and whirled to face Marc, who took a step back. Brandon leaned away, momentarily terrified by the bloodlust shining in John’s eyes. But then it faded, and he silently stepped away from the Enforcer’s unconscious form.
“Why?” asked Brandon. It made no sense to him. Why keep alive one of the NWG’s most deadly agents?
“Because, my friend, if we want information about the NWG, this guy will have it. And if we want to hit the government, we need information as fast as we can get it,” Marc said matter of factly.
“Ah.” said Brandon. It made sense, he guessed.
“Bind him,” Marc said to Sevina. “We’ll lock him up, and question him when we get back to base.”
“Don’t we need to scan for stuff?” asked Brandon, knowing Marc had forgotten.
“Oh yeah,” said Marc, “thanks for reminding me.” He jogged over to the jeep, and came back with a scan-stick. Jack was hauling the now bound Enforcer toward the truck. He set the man down as Marc approached, and the latter proceeded to scan the unconscious man.
“He’s clean,” declared Marc after twenty seconds. “He’s got some fried neurotech, and not a trace of trackers. Let’s load him up.” Jack and Marc carried him to the truck, and unceremoniously dumped him in the back. Marc dusted off his hands, and turned to Brandon. “I’ll see you back at base, yeah?”
“See you there,” said Brandon, and he and Jack got back in the jeep. Both cars began moving East once again.
Part 5:
Marcus awakened to the sound of a light tapping at his door. “What?” he mumbled irritably, wondering how long he’d been asleep. His bedside clock read 6:00. Only four hours.
It was Sevina. “Marc, get up. The prisoner is awake.”
“Eh, I’ll fight him,” Marc said as he rolled out of bed, and moved to put some clothes on. He grabbed a pair of cargo shorts, a t-shirt, and put on his combat boots. As he opened the door, he grabbed a .50 caliber Desert Eagle from a table near the doorway. “Alright,” he said to Sevina as he strapped on the pistol, “let’s go see what our new guy has to say.”
Marc walked into the holding area. It was a simple cell, eight feet by eight, with walls of three sides and bars on the fourth. Marc pulled up a chair outside the bars, and looked at the prisoner. He was sitting on the small cot, looking back at Marc. “Who are you?”
“My friend,” said Marc, “I don’t think you’re in a position to ask questions. But I’ll make you a deal, Gimli style.” He paused, to see if the reference to The Lord of the Rings had meant anything. His only response was a burning silence and the dull stare of the man's knight-like helm. “Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine.”
Sevina, who had accompanied him into the room, punched him in the arm. “Oh my god, you're such a nerd!” Marc laughed. The prisoner stared at Marcus, dragging out the silence a moment longer. Then the prisoner spoke and his distorted voice said,
“My name is the Iron Angel and I will destroy you.”
“So you were sent by the government?” said Marc suddenly becoming serious. “I was wondering how that plane crashed. I’ve flown one of them before. It takes some real skill to crash it. Well, Mr. Angel, you can call me Marc.”
Even as Marc was speaking the prisoner began to radiate anger, until he lunged at Marcus. “I am not with the government!” he yelled, his voice distorted as if he spoke through a WWII walkie talkie. At the apex of his anger the prisoner struck at the bars of the cage. The impact cause the bars to shudder, and Marc involuntarily leaned back. “Don’t ever associate me with those swine! Ever!”
“Woah, calm down man. We found you at the sight of a government plane wreck, wearing and NWG Enforcer’s uniform. What were we supposed to think? And it does explain how the plane crashed.” Marc studied the man, who had calmed down a bit and was now standing behind the bars, staring intensely at his captors. “Well, if you aren’t with the NWG, then why do you want to destroy us? WE certainly aren’t with them.”
The man’s confidence seemed to waver, then he remembered something. “Then why were you driving a government issue truck?”
“You remember the guy you fought out there? Who took a couple of rifle rounds? The previous owners of the truck tried to mess with him. They’re out drying in the desert, and we got a free truck. Now if you're not with the government, then why are you trying to get rid of us? How do you know who we are? Who hired you?”
The self proclaimed Iron Angel stepped back and faltered in his ignorance. “So you’re not with the NWG? This isn’t some trick to bring me back in?” He felt the back of his neck. “My neurotech is still broken.” Suddenly, something dawned on him. “You guys are the resistance!”
“Genius!” said Marc sarcastically. “You really think the NWG would try subterfuge to get an Enforcer back? They’d have laid you out and fixed your nerotech first thing. Yes, we are the resistance. Or should I say, a resistance. The organization between cells sucks, so we mostly operate independently.”
“In that case,” said the Iron Angel with conviction in his voice, “I want to join you.”
“A deserter, eh? Former Captain Marcus Laurence, of the Eleventh United States Air Force. Happy to have you aboard.” Marc reached out his hand, and the Iron Angel reached through the bars to shake it. Then Marc pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the door to the cell. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Angel, I’ll show you the places you need to see.”
Marc gave the man a brief tour of the base, showing him the mess hall, the “rec center”, and ended at the barracks area. He opened a door, and motioned for the Angel to step inside. “This will be your room. I’ll go ahead and grab some blankets and stuff for you. You’ll excuse the lack of information on the tour. It pays to be cautious in our business.” He turned to go, then spun back around. “Is it cool if we call you Angel? Saying the Iron Angel all of the time is going to get sort of tiresome.” The man's facade stared at him, for a moment, then broke and nodded. “Cool,” said Marc, and rushed off to grab the blankets.
After dropping the blankets in Angel’s quarters, Marc went to find Bandon. Something about this Angel character was odd, almost familiar, but Marc didn’t recognize him at all.
Marc found Brandon, as he often did, in the garage. Well, it was actually more of a hangar, but they only had land vehicles so they all called it a garage. Brandon was over in the corner, underneath an old, beat up Pontiac Grand Am. “Hey, Brandon, I have a question.”
“I have an answer,” replied Brandon as he slid out from under the car.
“Did you notice anything weird about that Enforcer we picked up? By the way, I talked to him. Claims to be a deserter, hates the government. I gave him the room that only locks from the outside. Calls himself the Iron Angel, but I’m going to call him Angel for now.”
“Oh really? Well, I didn’t notice anything super weird, other than his robotic arm, that is.”
“Huh. I just get a weird feeling, like I know him or something. It’s kind of freaking me out. Oh well, I’m going to sleep. Sevina frickin’ woke me up after four hours.”
“Alright,” said Brandon, moving to slide back under the car. Marc walked off towards his room, intent on falling asleep before the lack of rest drove him insane.
Part 6:
Just as Marc reached his door, no more than a minute from precious sleep, his radio crackled.
“Marc, please report to the main door. We have a Level 2 situation. Repeat, Level 2.”
“Seriously?” Marc said to the empty hallway. He began running towards the main entrance, grumbling to himself about the lack of sleep. But it couldn’t be helped. Level 2 meant someone needed their help, and bad, and as the acting leader of this base, he had to make the final call.
He burst into the main door control room, and moved to the video feed from outside. There was a man standing there, apparently wearing nothing, holding a very bloody woman in his arms and kicking the disguised door.. “Open the door!” Marc snapped at the man at the controls, who slammed the button down. Marc reached for his radio, flipping it to the general channel as he brought it up. “We have a Level 2 situation. We need a medical team down here ASAP.” Then he grabbed the first aid kit form the control room, and ran over to where the door was splitting vertically, revealing the two people. He stopped, and the medical team, who were stationed just down the hall, rushed past him with a gurney. “Put her here!” Marc called to the man standing outside. Marc could tell now that he was in fact wearing a loincloth, and underneath the stress of the situation he was relieved not to have seen two fully naked men in one day. The giant of a man, and he was huge, rushed forward and put the injured woman on the gurney, and anxious look on his heavily bearded face.
The medics began moving away, shouting to each other about medical stuff, Marc turned to look at the huge man. The man was moving to follow the medics, but stopped at the sound of Marc’s voice. “I wouldn’t follow them in there. A man of your size would definitely get in the way.” Marc studied him for a second, then continued. “You’re not from around here, are you? I have no idea how you would survive with all of that hair. Although I suppose going with the loincloth would help. Where are you from?”
The man looked down at Marc. “North. The mountains. I… Idaho,” he responded in a gruff tone, obviously unused to speaking.
Marc’s eyes widened in surprise. “You came down here from Idaho? That’s a long way to go and not get caught by soldiers. Then again,” Marc said as he noticed clumps of dried blood in the man’s chest hair, “You may not have had trouble with soldiers. Here, let’s get you cleaned up. A shower always feels nice after a long trip. That and some food. And some fricking sleep. You know, you are the reason…” Marc babbled about anything and everything, his sleep deprived mind telling him it was ok, as he lead the giant man towards a shower.
Getting the man to shower had been a nightmare. For whatever insane reason, he seemed afraid of the hot water. Or the closed space. Or something. It was like trying to convince a stray dog to get in the bath tub. Marc guessed that the man had been living in the wild for a while, but that was not an excuse. Especially if Marc could smell him. Marc had the worst sense of smell in history, so if he could smell something, it was either dang good or dang bad. This was NOT good.
After the man finally calmed down and went into the shower, Marc went to find some clothes for him. Marc himself was the only person on base who was even close to the newcomers height, so he grabbed some cargo shorts and a t-shirt from his own room. Resisting the urge to lay down and go to sleep right there, he wandered back to the man’s room. Upon opening the door, he found the man standing in the middle of the room with no clothes on at all. “AAAAGH!” he yelled, and turned away. “I don't want to see anymore pantsless men!”
Right at that exact moment, as usual, Sevina walked around the corner. “What?!” she shouted, and Marc’s face ran through the usual dozen or so expressions before he said,
“Don’t come any closer!” Sevina stopped in her tracks.
“Why?”
“Hey, you were the one complaining about guys letting it hang in the first place. Let this guy get dressed before you go blind or something.”
“Uugh,” said Sevina, and hastily turned and walked back the way she had come.
Marc tossed the shorts and shirt behind him, at where he guessed the man could be. “Put these on. Please.”
Marc heard some shuffling, and the distinctive sound of a zipper. He turned around, and found the man standing, looking very uncomfortable in the too small cargo shorts, and holding the shirt in his hands. He looked at Marc. and said “Won’t fit.”
Marc laughed, realizing how much smaller he was than this man, “I guess you’re right. Here, I’ll take it back. You hungry? Let’s go get a snack.” The man, looking mildly put off by this energetic stranger, followed along. “So,” said Marc, “What’s your name? Are you going to be the third nameless man today?”
“Samson,” the big man said, almost doubtfully.
“Huh. I knew a Samson once, long ago. He was a ginger too. He died when the war started though, in the initial bombings I heard. Well, it’s nice to meet you Samson, I’m Marc.”
Samson grunted. Marc shrugged, and fell silent. A moment later they entered the dining hall. Dinner was winding down, so the room was mostly empty. Marc walked up to the window into the kitchen. “Hey,” he called, “what’s for dinner? Get this dude a double portion.”
“Sure boss,” yelled a kitchen worker.
“Hey, I ain’t no boss. Frank just left me in charge for a few days.”
“Then say please!” said another cook, as she walked up with a huge pile of spaghetti and a plate of breadsticks.
Marc lowered his head in a mock bow. “Tenemos hambre! Nos queremos la comida! Por Favor!” he said, his voice dripping with mock desperation and humor.
The kitchen staff laughed. They’d known Marc long enough to understand, if not the literal meaning, that he was requesting food in his broken Spanish. The female cook set down Samson’s plate on the counter, then went back to get a smaller plate of pasta for Marc. “Thanks,” said Marc as he took his own plate.
Marc lead Samson to a table on the side of the room, and they sat down and began to eat.
They ate in silence for a while, until a man in scrubs walked up and tapped Marc on the shoulder. Marc turned, and the man whispered something in his ear. Marc turned to Samson, “They managed to stabilize the girl. She’s in recovery now, and should be able to leave the med-bay tomorrow afternoon. She’s sleeping now, so there’s no point in visiting. But you can see her tomorrow.” Samson’s face brightened under his thick beard, and he nodded once. Marc took the last bite of his pasta, and wolfed down another breadstick. “Now,” he said, “I am going to sleep. I would advise you do the same. If you need help, yell. Someone will wake me up. you remember how to get back to your room?” Samson nodded again. Marc nodded back, then got up and took his plate to the kitchen. As he left the dining hall, it occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t let the giant wild man wander the halls of their base. Then an image of his pillow and blankets popped into his head. “Nah,” he said to no one in particular. It would be fine.
Marc wandered into his room, yawned, and shut the door. “I’ve put this off for far too long,” he said to himself, quoting Bilbo from The Fellowship of the Ring. He chuckled as he lay down, almost wishing there was someone who was there to get the joke. Then sleep claimed him, and he thought no more.