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THEN
— - —
“This,” a man at the front of the room said, revealing a slide covered in many colored dots, “is the Universe. Everything that ever has been or- or will ever be that we can reach is on this slide. So far as we know, this is it; the entire sum of existence.”
He turned off the projector, and for a moment the room was dark. When the light came back on, the image was a painting of the Earth, as if taken from above and far away.
“This is us, obviously,” the man said, centering the slide. “Nearly every living thing that we’re aware of has been born and died on this rock.” He paused for effect. “Not such bad real estate, really.”
He adjusted the slide again as the audience attempted meager laughter.
“And this… is an atom. Or at least, uh, a representation of one. Technology hasn’t caught up yet to where we can see these little guys, but we’ve got a pretty good idea about what they might look like. Now, the atom is a- a building block, the very most basic particle in the Universe. Or rather, it might be. There may be particles even smaller than that, and smaller particles that compose those. It’s difficult to say where this ends, but at the bottom of this has to be something fundamental… right? Something that doesn’t just comprise the other building blocks, but necessitates their being. That’s what we were searching for.”
The lights came back up, and the man turned around. His white jacket bore the name “Hudson Theodore Ph.D.” in blue lettering. His round glasses sat perched atop a red nose, and his grey hair was combed neatly to the side.
“When we approached the uh, the International Academy of Existential Sciences, we came with a single goal; discover the reason why. We weren’t asked to provide an explanation, o-or deduce why the uh, reason why; our task was to find the part of the universe that determines why we are what we are. Today, I’m happy to announce we have done this.”
He extended his arm, and another man came into view. This man was tall, with cropped brown hair and a black jacket. He smiled and waved politely at the enthusiastic applause and stood with his hands clasped in front of him as he was introduced.
“This is Dr. Christopher Walker, of the Royal Scientific Conservatory. It was with his assistance and financial backing that we uh, that we made this breakthrough discovery.”
The two of them paused as the lights dimmed again, and the projector above produced an image. The image was faint, and full of static, but its focal point was clear: a single white line extending across the image, fading at both ends.
“What you’re looking at here is a thread,” Dr. Theodore continued. “We’ve only just started calling them that; we had no idea what they would look like when we started. We were able to get this thread to manifest itself using a series of high energy pulses directed at a tiny piece of Ozymandium film. This method was borrowed from fellow student Alexei and his team in the Cambridge, who have been working on a similar project in the hopes of eliciting what they’re calling tachyons, the uh, the fundamental building block of time, as it were. We discovered that, by tuning our equipment just so, we were able to make something that shouldn’t happen… happen.”
The image changed. On the next slide, a nearby structure is seen being pulled dramatically towards the center of the thread. On the next, the thread is gone, and the building is crumpled and misshapen.
“This was what we witnessed. By causing one of these threads to appear for just an instant, one of these elements of the foundation of the universe, and then manipulating it ever so slightly, we increased gravity in the region by nearly seven-thousand percent in an instant. I will say that again: we have manipulated the physical laws of the universe using a bright light and a rock.”
The assembled audience applauded again. After a moment, Dr. Theodore held up a hand for quiet.
“The full manifest of our uh, our research will be available shortly, as soon as our sister projects have finished their studies. In three months’ time, we’ll present our findings in full to this assembly, and… and take our first step towards a more knowledgeable future!”
— - —
In the lobby of the auditorium afterwards, Dr. Walker stood speaking to a group of researchers alongside Dr. Theodore and his team. Two men approached him, and one of them stuck out his hand.
“Dr. Walker,” the man said, “Ivan Hilohiko, Nice to see you again dear friend. I’ve been fascinated with your work, truly.”
The taller man smiled. “Dr. Hilohiko, of course. Always nice to meet a fellow friend once again.” He looked towards the second of the two. “Is that your brother?”
It was Aleksander Hilohiko, following Ivan’s handshake with one of his own. “Oxford.”
Dr. Walker’ eyes grew slightly wider. “The renowned physicist. I dare say I half expected you to make this discovery before we did my dearest old friend, Dr. Ivan Hilohiko.”
Ivan smiled. “Unfortunately, our work as of late has taken a different turn. If we were going to solve atomics, we should have done what you did and figured out the geometry first. Your results have been very impressive.”
Dr. Walker's’ eyes were pensive. “Yes, Dr. Theodore has done some exceptional work. It’s a shame he’s going to be discredited, he really has put so much into this project.”
Aleksander did a double take. “Wait, he- what?”
Before either of them could say anything else they were approached by a dark-eyed woman, slight, with short black hair and a blue dress with a turtleneck. She came up behind Dr. Walker and put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ears. He nodded.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid I am being called away.” He stopped mid turn. “Oh, please, forgive me. Mr. Aleksander, Dr. Ivan, this is Dr. Antonina Makarov. She’s been working closely with Dr. Theodore and the rest of our team here in London.”
The woman smiled softly and nodded. “Charmed, I’m sure.”
Aleksander babbled. As he knew calling someone "Mr." in Russia is not used to address someone.
Ivan nodded back while Aleksander continued to process what he had just heard. Walker fiddled with his pocket for a moment, and then produced a white card with a three-arrowed emblem on it.
“This is my card, Dr. Ivan,” he said. “Have your office call this number here while you’re still in the city and we’ll arrange a proper meeting. Mr. Aleksander, you are certainly welcome to join as well. Our organization is on the very precipice of some truly inspiring work, and we’re looking for the brightest minds to lead us.” He shrugged. “Something to think about. Until later, gentlemen.”
Dr. Walker donned his cap and coat, and followed Dr. Makarov out of the parlor.
NOW
— - —
Devin burst into a clearing, hands slapping at his face as he swerved and ducked away from a great many tiny assailants. Sam wasn't far behind, followed closely by Karl and Jacob. Of the four of them, Sam had fared the best in the forest. Karl had slipped and fallen into quicksand, which now covered his lower half as if he was an ice-cream-man-cone. Jacob was drenched head to toe in sweat from the humidity, and he grumbled and fumed each step of the way at the fucking dogshit heat. Lastly, Devin had earned the attention of a swarm of bugs, which - to his telling - had now followed him for the better part of the last mile, since their car had broken down.
Karl called a general halt to their progress to survey a map and some notes he had received from Delta. Of the Third Consulate, the journal had been scant - he moves often - but Delta had been watching the movements of the one they called The Mercenary for weeks. True to the journal's description, he had moved more frequently than any of the others, often staying at a location for no more than a few days, at best. But here, deep in the heart of these forests, he was said to have been staying for over a month.
"I don't like it," Jacob had said, chewing on the end of a cigar. "This feels like a trap."
"Yeah," Devin had answered, "we don't actually know that he's there, either. We just know that we haven't seen him leave. There are plenty of ways he could've gotten out."
Karl had stroked his moustache at the thought, catching Sam's eye from across the room before she quickly looked away. "You're right. This is profoundly sketchy. But if our sources are correct and he's where we think he is, we might not get another chance at this. We have to act now."
So it was, then, that they arrived in—
"France!" Jacob shouted, tearing yet another piece of his shirt away from his body. "France! Of all places. If the bugs don't kill you, the wretched heat will." He pulled out a fan and began to feverishly wave it in front of his face. "I have had enough of this part of the world for one lifetime. If I never have to spend another day in these god-awful forests it won't have come soon enough."
Karl surveyed their map, noting a nearby river as a landmark. "We're close now. Once we're in the city, we need to meet up with Richard O’Gallagher. He'll be here, in this bar. He has contacts that can get us where we need to go." He pulled a bandana out and started wrapping it around his face. "Put something up over your face - we need to stay as discreet as possible here." He stuck a finger out towards Devin and Jacob. "You two pasty-faces stick out."
Jacob grunted, but Devin whipped his head around, face red from sustained smacks. "Hang on, what now? Why do we need to hide our faces?"
Karl tucked his map and the journal away. "Same reason the Consulate is here right now. Political unrest. Richie says there's an artifact of some kind being held by the local revolutionaries, and that The Mercenary has come in personally to treat with them and get it back."
Devin's face ran white. "Why is a Consulate coming to treat with revolutionaries?"
"Don't be fooled," Jacob said, slinging Devin's gun over his shoulder, "this isn't a diplomatic mission. The Mercenary gets off on this kind of shit. If he's here, that means something disastrous is about to happen."
After quickly cleaning themselves off and covering their faces, the four of them crept back into the brush in the direction of the nearby city.
— - —
Karl slunk behind a wall as a group of rioters passed by him, torches illuminating the dark streets. Somewhere not far off, he could hear the sound of gunfire and car alarms, and the occasional loud boom of a tank as the government moved troops into the city. He waited until they were gone, and moved quickly towards the east. They had gotten separated early on after a mob had formed around a grocery they were passing by. Jacob had radioed in that he was fine and moving towards the target, and Sam and Devin had met up a few blocks later.
Under the orange fabric of an awning, he saw a single light illuminating a sign - Bar des pairs - and an open door. He slipped through it, and the sound of the streets faded behind him.
Bar des pairs had emptied out earlier in the day when a brick had come through one of the front windows, but a handful of patrons still sat at the bar. The broken glass had been swept into a small pile in the corner and left untouched. Karl entered casually, not rising to meet any of the eyes that crossed the room in his direction. He found a seat near the back of the small room at a table in a far corner, and hunched down to hide his features. After a moment, the bartender came by his table.
"Bonjour monsieur! madame est?” the bartender said, in broken French.
Karl understood a bit of French, and knocked on the table twice, then twice again, then three times. "j'aurai ce qu'il a."
The bartender paused, then nodded and left. A few more moments passed, and then another man returned to the table with beers in each hand. This man was a stout individual with fiery red hair and a lit cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth. He took a seat across from Karl sliding one of them across towards him.
"Cheers, Karl," he said. "Drink up, we'll likely be dead in the morning."
Karl grinned through his handkerchief, which he quickly removed. "Richie," he said, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
Richard shrugged. "Must be pretty sore, then." He took a drink. "Where's the rest of your band of merry men? I was promised a raiding party, not a single over-the-hill operative."
Karl snorted. "We were separated. Jacob is moving ahead to the watch point, and Liv and the kid are on their way. We should meet them on our way out."
Richard nodded. "Once they arrive, we'll need to move quickly. We won't have an abundance of time to act - if the riots dissipate, we've lost our opportunity. Our only cover right now is that the streets are full of looters, and we're just a handful of tourists."
They were interrupted by a barking dog outside which quickly faded into the hum of the background. Karl took another drink. "What's going on out there?"
"Local politics," Richard said. "Kervier came in and set up here a number of years ago and thoroughly fucked the water. They were doing what they usually do, you know - come in, set up, dig furiously and then wait until the Jailers come and force them out. Only this time, the Foundation didn't show up." He laughed. "You probably had a hand in that."
It was Karl's turn to shrug as Richie continued. "Anyway, there are three sides to this. On one hand you have the local officials, all of whom were receiving kickbacks from Kervier and are seen as having betrayed their countrymen. Then you've got these folks - let's call them revolutionaries - who have been pushing to overthrow the government for a while. When the details of the Kervier deal came out, they decided it was their time to shine and rose up en masse. They're holed up down at the governor's manor, supposedly meeting with the local governor to reach some agreement. Fact is, they're only there so that The High Alert can stoke them and disrupt the agreements, and send the country into civil war. Once it's properly destabilized, the Jailers can swoop in and raid the armory where they're keeping this thing they want to get their hands on so badly."
"Who are the people in the street?" Karl asked.
"Rioters. They're all just unhappy with the government and while most of them probably align with the revolutionaries, not all of them do. Mostly they just want to riot. They're dissatisfied and angry and want to loot and pillage. They're the most dangerous of the three sides right now, because if their attitudes turn especially violent, we could be swept up in it before we have time to get out of dodge."
The sound of the street outside grew louder for a moment as the door opened, and through it stepped a man and woman. Karl nodded, and Richard stood.
"Time to roll," the husky Irishman said. "For the Insurgency."
Karl took his extended hand. "For the Insurgency."
Sam and Devin fell in behind them, and together the four snuck quickly out of a concealed side door. As they passed the bartender, the man gave them a nervous nod. Once they were out on a side street, Richard pointed towards lights in the distance.
"That's where we're going," he said, voice rising slightly to be heard over the din of the crowd. "The revolutionaries have set up there. To get inside we'll need to meet up with one of my contacts, Jo." He glanced down at his phone. "I was hoping to have heard from him by now, but there's really not much time to wait. Let's go."
They took off in the direction of the governor's manor, sticking mostly to side streets to avoid the rioters and larger gatherings. As they paused to wait for a mob to pass, Karl pulled out his radio and called Jacob.
"Jacob," he said, "do you read? Where are you?"
The radio crackled a response. "Made it to the watch point. There's a throng of ne'er-do-wells down here pillaging an electronics shop, so I've gone onto the roof. Where are you?"
"We're leaving Peer’s Bar now. Any sign of our target?"
"Not yet. He should be pretty easy to spot, what with the jumpsuit and all." The radio was silent. "Be advised, Karl - there are a lot of troops moving out of the manor now. They're keeping out of the main street here and I don't think anyone on the ground has noticed. If things turn sour here, I think they're going to break really badly."
Karl took a deep breath. "Roger that. We'll meet you soon."
The four of them skirted past a burning shop and down a narrow street with a tight bend at the end. Approaching it, Richie held up a hand and they stopped as he peered around the corner. He turned back and swore.
"Looters," he said. He pulled a sidearm from its holster. "Don't do anything stupid."
He sidled around the corner with the rest of them not far behind. As they approached the group of people emptying a store of its contents, one of the looters noticed them, and then they all did. Richard sucked in his chest and smiled, extending his arms.
"Evenin' lads," he said with as much gusto as he could muster. "Just passing through, see. Don't want any trouble. Got money if you want it, no problems here."
One of the looters looks back towards the others, and then turned back towards the group, nodding. Richard produced his wallet and stepped forward slowly, holding it out in front of him.
"There we go," he said, "nice and easy now."
Suddenly, bullets zipped through the group of looters and the men and women began falling over each other. One of them pulled a gun and began firing into the dark behind them, and then everyone had guns. Richard turned to run back towards the other three, but a stray shot caught him in the leg and he collapsed, cursing. Karl ran up to grab him as he fell, and the three of them started to pull him off the street. Richard looked back towards the group of rioters, his eyes growing wide.
"Gas," he said, pointing. "Jailers."
A cloud of gas had formed over the bodies of the dead and dying looters, which crept towards the group. Out of the cloud emerged dark shapes with masks and rifles in riot armor. Even from the distance they were at, Karl could make out the insignia on their shoulders. The Black Skulls.
"Oh shit," Devin said under his breath, and suddenly the group was in a near sprint, with Karl heaving the hefty Richard over his shoulder to keep up the pace. They darted down side streets, but no matter where they turned more armored shapes emerged from the shadows. They turned again, and found themselves in a dead end.
"Fuck!" Sam said, turning back towards where a group of 909 Council agents now stood at the entrance to the alley they had walked into. Richie swung around on Karl's shoulder, firing furiously at the agents. One of them collapsed, then another. A bullet pinged off one of their masks, and the agent disappeared behind the rest. Then, one near the front produced a thick steel canister, pulled a tab, and rolled it towards them. A thick, orange gas blew out of the can from both ends, filling the alley.
Karl moved to run forward, but each step into the cloud felt like a thousand, and suddenly he was as heavy as lead. He heard Richie swear as he fell from Karl's shoulder, and then he heard Devin hit the ground, and then himself, and then the world went black.
— - —
Karl's awoke, cotton-mouthed and groggy, unable to see through a dark band wrapped around his eyes. He felt for his wrists - cuffed, and his ankles as well. He reached as far backwards with his hands as he could, and he felt something cold but very alive - Sam. Somewhere nearby, he heard the unmistakable sound of Devin snoring.
Then, a voice.
"Captain, captain, captain," it said, slowly and steadily. It was a rich voice, vaguely Kolechian, full-textured and hearty, and clearly male. The voice was that of someone very sure of where they stood. "I should start giving you menial scouting missions more often, when you come back with prizes like these."
Another voice, this time female. Harsh. "Are these the insurgents?"
"Yes, I believe they are," the man said. Karl heard footsteps, and then nothing. "This one is out of place. We're missing one."
"What would you like done with him?" the woman said.
The man paused, considering. "Well. No point in waking him, I think. All in all, a better way than what we have in store for the rest of them."
There was a heavier sound as the woman - clearly in boots - crossed the room. Karl heard the sound of a bullet sliding into its chamber, and then the ear-piercing pop of a gunshot. Karl jumped, and heard Sam scream from behind him.
"Look, look. They're awake. Get them up, hurry. We don't have a ton of time." More footsteps, and then Karl was yanked upwards by two sets of hands. The hands pushed him against the wall and another pulled the blindfold off of his face.
He squinted against the glare of the lights, and as the room became clear he was met with the sight of a short, squat man in a dark green military outfit. He was old - maybe mid 60s, and he wore black shoes with green skulls on them. He was leaning down to look at him quizzically, like some bird of prey lurking over a meal. Karl turned to his left and right, confirming that Sam and Devin were there with him and generally no worse for wear. He glanced into the corner of the room and then back quickly - Richard lays dead on the ground, a bullet hole placed between his eyes.
The door to the room cracked open. "What was that?" asked the voice on the other side. "Who you shooting?"
The man in the outfit waved them off. "Don't worry about that. I'm dealing with a personal issue. You understand? Personal. P-E-R-S-O-N-A-L. That means no you. Scooch."
The door slid closed, and she turned back towards the group, smiling.
"Well well well," he said, clapping his hands together. "And here I thought I was going to have to spend time looking for you three, and you walk right into one of my patrols. That's just something, I tell you what."
Noticing that Sam was staring at Richie, the man gestured dismissively. "Oh, don't you worry about him. He went quick and easy. You're about to have a harder time of it, I'm afraid."
He turned back towards an open window. From outside, they could hear the sound of the throng of revolutionaries in the street.
"Introductions! Where are my manners, goodness. My mother would've killed me for that. My name is unimportant - you can just call me The Mercenary. Everybody does, hell, you probably do too. As for you three," he paused, finger held against the side of his face, "the skinny one here is a runaway D-Class, the skinny bitch is the anartist who got away, and you - why, you're Karl Brahms, aren't you? Tired of lobbing grenades at unarmed convoys, you've decided to step up to the big leagues and have a crack at some Consulates."
He laughed, a warm, wholesome laugh. "I've got to hand it to you Karl, you've got some balls. I don't know what's in the water wherever you're from, but it's some pretty potent stuff. Some of my own could use a tall glass of it!"
The Mercenary turned back towards the window. "Now I know what you're here to do - hell, we all do by now. Some of my fellows decided to turn tail and run for their holes after that little stunt you pulled with poor old Theodore - very clever, by the way. You know what's funny is that Theodore himself had worried about that, a long time ago. In order to assure him, Ivan had the Fountain drained and the ground upturned until there was nothing left. Yet there you were, doing something that shouldn't have been able to be done. Very, very clever."
He continued. "But while they might be content to hole up for a while until this all blows over, I've got work to do. The Council doesn't run by itself, and it certainly doesn't run if there's nobody telling it to go. Besides," she turned her head to look back at them, her eyes steely and her smile crooked and devilish, "this is the most alive I've felt in years."
Karl grunted. "You're a peach."
The Mercenary laughed again. "Georgia grown! Isn't that fitting?" He crossed the room again in a hurry. "So here's what I'm going to offer you, Karl - something of a wager. Have you ever watched a fly at a flytrap? That's the most natural gamble out there. The fly is gambling that it can make it down to that sweet, sweet nectar and out before the flytrap snaps shut. The fly is willing to take that bet, though, because the nectar is so good and it's right there."
She pointed at Devin and Sam. "I'm going to offer you lives, for a life. Easy. You let me kill one of the two of them - your choice, I'm not unfair - and I let you do whatever you want to me. Kill, maim, butcher, whatever. OR, and here's where it gets interesting, you refuse and I leave this room, go into that room," he pointed a pudgy finger at the door that had opened earlier, "and put a bullet into the neck of Lucien Pelle-something or other, the revolutionary leader. You and your two friends here might make it out alive, but as soon as that throng in the street find out their golden boy was gunned down by the troops now firing on them they'll set the whole countryside alight."
The Mercenary squatted down in from of him, both hands held out in front of him. "That's where it is, Karl. There's the nectar. It's right there. All you have to do is reach out and take it."
Karl struggled against his restraints. One of the guards behind him put the butt of his rifle into Karl's back, knocking him over. "Fuck you," he said.
The Mercenary rolled his eyes. "You should've learned some more words and gone to church when you were younger, Karl."
"Take me," Karl heard Sam say next to him. Her voice was hoarse. "Karl, she's going to kill one of us anyway. How else are we going to get the chance?"
The man laughed. "She's right, Karl. Somebody is dying tonight, and you get to decide who. Come on now, we don't have all night. Ping Pong is not a patient man." He motioned at him, and the guards sat him back up.
"Fine," Karl said, spitting out blood, "shoot me. Let those two go."
The Mercenary didn't laugh, but his smile grew unnaturally wide. "No no, Karl. That's not how the game is played. You don't get to choose yourself. You think this is some kind of noble sacrifice you'd be making?" Now he laughed. "You would've thought after so many years of losing, the Insurgency would've figured this out by now. There are no noble sacrifices, Karl. Here's what will happen - you will choose one of your friends or those people out there and I live or I die. If I live, I go back to work and we replace the Consulates you've killed - it certainly wouldn't be the first time. If I die, you get to feel like you've won something for a moment, and then you are either killed by the masses outside those doors or killed by our agents or die of the flu or whatever. Maybe you kill another Consulate - Sohrab is looking wobbly right now, he'd be a good target. Either way, eventually you reach a point where you have exhausted your efforts, and then you'll stop trying. You'll run into a mountain you can't climb - and believe me, that mountain is coming up soon. You'll realize that this tower was built to not be climbed, and you'll give up. As soon as you give up, none of the deaths mean anything. It doesn't matter if it's you, or her, or me."
He stood up, hands still outstretched. "You know what makes sacrifice worth it? Perpetuity. You either keep going and live forever, or you die and history forgets." He laughed. "The worst part is, honestly, you really have no idea what you're doing."
Karl opened his mouth to talk, but The Mercenary held out a finger to silence him. "I know what you think you're doing, but dear boy, you were messed up from the word go. You think that killing people will stop the Council and, well," she paused, pensively. "You should ask Ivan Hilohiko about that. Hard to kill an idea."
She turned the hand back over. "Last chance. Make a choice, fly."
Karl struggled against his restraints for a second more, and The Mercenary sighed. "Fine. You know, this is actually what I wanted in the first place anyway." She gestured at the captain, who strode towards the door. Sam shouted out and lunged towards him, but was rebuked by the end of his rifle. He kicked the door open, and fired three times through the doorway. There was shouting on the other side, and then he fired again until the shouting stopped. He nodded to someone in the room, and walked through followed by the other agents. They heard another door open in the next room, and the sound of something wet and heavy hitting concrete.
The crowd outside went silent. A moment later there was a single gunshot, and then a thousand. The mob erupted, and the earth began to shake. More gunshots filled the air, and they could smell the distinct scent of gunpowder and searing flesh. The Mercenary turned to gather his things.
"You know that thing I said earlier, about flytraps? Here's what's funny about that - even if they don't go for the nectar, it's too late. They won't ever get out. The fly is made to do all sorts of things, but the flytrap? The flytrap is just there to catch the fly. But they keep coming, because that nectar sure does look good." She turned to look at them. "I wonder who will be next?"
Suddenly Devin was on his feet, his cuffs and a nail clattering to the ground. He had taken three steps when The Mercenary had her gun out, inches from his face. He stopped suddenly, legs shaking, and The Mercenary cocked his head and smiled.
"Oh, no," he said, "sorry gentleman, but it's not going to be you."
Karl saw a flash of light out the window, and then The Mercenary was stumbling backwards, clutching her hand and cursing. Blood rushed between his fingers. From on the table next to his, a confiscated radio crackled.
"Run." It was Jacob.
Devin snagged a key off the table as The Mercenary ran out of the room. Once unshackled, Karl collected their weapons and the radio.
"Jacob," he said, running into the next room, "do you have eyes? Where's she at?"
"On the roof," Jacob said, "there's a helicopter landing right now. I'm heading your way."
As they rounded the corner, three of the revolutionaries stormed up the stairs, guns drawn. They opened fire on the three, forcing Karl behind a table and Sam back into the first room. Karl returned fire, catching the first man in the shoulder and forcing him back. Sam fired blind, but missed. Two more were coming up the stairs behind them, and more could be heard below. Karl could barely hear the crowd below them over the din of the helicopter above.
Karl reloaded, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Devin sprinting around the corner behind Sam, something long and slender in his hand. Before Karl could shout out to him. Silence filled the space where noise had been a second prior, and the lights dimmed. He grabbed his chest, unable to breathe, and managed to get turned just enough to look over the table towards the stairwell.
There was a roaring sound like a locomotive passing over them, and a blast of light and heat. As it passed through them, they burst into flames and were quickly reduced to ash - the last sound from their lips being the faint whisper of a scream before being silenced forever. Karl stood up unsteadily, his expression covered with disbelief. Devin stumbled backwards, bracing first against the wall and then Sam as she came in behind him to scoop him up. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
"Holy shit," he said quietly, "I don't know what I was expecting, but… oh god."
"No time, come on," Karl said before realizing that Devin could barely stand. "Sam, stay here with him. Jacob will be up soon, I'll get The Mercenary."
Sam nodded. Karl bounded up the stairs towards the roof, taking the door with a lowered shoulder and bowling out onto the platform above. The helicopter was just a few steps away, and The Mercenary was standing on the railing. When he saw him, he extended his free hand in greeting.
"This is it, Karl!" his voice cut over the sound of the helicopter and the crowd below, which was now in a frenzy. Fires had broken out across the entire quad, with more cropping up in the distance as the city began to burn. "This is the world your actions lead you to. I hope it was worth it!"
Karl pulled out his sidearm and fired at her. He missed once, then twice, and then an explosion rocked the building and his gun fell from his hand. He reached to grab it but was too slow, and it disappeared over the edge of the roof. With The Mercenary laughing over the noise, the helicopter began to ascend.
Karl felt someone come up beside him. Jacob planted a knee into the ground and, taking aim with his scoped rifle, fired a round. It pinged off the metal just beside The Mercenary, whose eyes grew wide with something like glee upon seeing him.
"Ah, Ismael, you were late! I had hoped I'd get the chance to catch up with you too!" He blew him a big kiss. "I'll tell Ivan you said hi when I see him next!"
Jacob lined up another shot but was wide when he pulled the trigger. The helicopter continued to climb. He fired again - nothing.
Then, something streaked out of the crowd below them - a rocket. It arced into the sky and disappeared into the open door of the helicopter. For a moment nothing happened - The Mercenary didn’t look like he’d even seen it. Then, scarlet filled the sky as the rocket and helicopter both burst into flames and fell to the earth. The blades were spun out into the crowd, and the flaming mass of metal struck a nearby building. The fuel exploded, and both the wreckage and the building collapsed into the crowd below them.
Another explosion rocked the ground beneath them, and then another. Overhead, low-flying shapes came into view, moving quickly past them and away into the distance. Moments later, fire lit up the horizon, drawing closer to them. Another wave of shapes passed by - jets - and then more fire. One of them struck the street outside the governor's manor, causing Karl to stumble. Jacob caught him by the jacket and pulled him to his feet.
"Time to go, kid," he said.
They sprinted to the rooftop access and down the stairs where Devin and Sam were waiting. Motioning for them to follow, Jacob led them down another stairwell into the kitchens. They danced around falling pots and pans as more explosions sent shockwaves through the walls of the manor, the mortar and brick beginning to give way in places as the ceiling above them cracked and splintered. They turned one corner, and then another, and then a third led them to a side door that Jacob lowered a shoulder into, flinging it open and emptying them out onto the street.
They stood between the now-crumbling manor and the building adjacent that had caught the flaming helicopter as it fell from the sky. At the end of the alley they could see the mob converging on soldiers who opened fire into the mass. Above them, more planes screamed overhead and more bombs fell onto the crazed populace. Jacob turned back to the other end of the side street.
"Down there," he pointed at the end of the street, "there was a car pool when I came in the back. There's liable to be something in there that we can-"
He was cut short by the scream of something unnatural. Turning back towards the flaming wreck of the building next to the manor, they saw a fiery figure step out of the wreckage. Its skin had sloughed off half of its face, and one arm had been severed just above the elbow. It stumbled out into the street, trying to balance on rapidly melting legs. Its eyes were gone entirely; all that remained were empty sockets full of smoke.
The figure turned towards them and opened its mouth, and a foul moan echoed out of its charred throat, drowning out all sounds around them. It took one step towards them, and then another. Instinctively Karl fired at it, and the bullet tore through flesh and bone but still it inched forward. The figure moaned again and raised its hand, leveling a gun at Karl's chest. He realized too late what it was, but by the time he heard the crack of the gunshot he was already on the ground.
Standing over him was Jacob, hand clutching the side of his neck. Another crack, and he stumbled backwards as Sam screamed and fired back. Blood was pooling underneath his shirt. There was a third crack and the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the pavement as the holder of the gun collapsed into a smoking, smoldering, unmoving pile. Jacob turned as if to walk away and fell, only barely avoiding slamming into the pavement as Devin slid underneath him to break his fall. Karl scrambled to his feet and rushed over.
Blood was now pulsing out from under Jacob's fingers on his neck, and more was seeping through his shirt. Sam was trying to keep pressure on the chest wound, but Jacob waved her off. He took a breath, and then another. Each felt like it lasted an eternity, and each was more ragged and uncertain than the last. Karl stood over him, blood now spattering onto his shoes every time Jacob coughed. The helplessness of it all began to close around him like a shroud.
Then he felt something - a weight that he had forgotten about and suddenly remembered. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a crystal vial of clear, shimmering fluid. He held it in front of him, the light of the fires behind them dancing across its surface like fireworks in rain. Devin saw it too, and his eyes drew wide. Sam had stopped what she was doing, and then they were all watching Karl. Almost unconsciously, he brought his other hand up to remove the seal.
"No!" croaked Jacob through spittle and blood. "Karl- no. No. Don't."
Sam looked back down at him, tears streaming down her face. "Jacob, please. Please, we can save you, we can—"
The older man shook his head. "No— not like that. No." His eyes, which had until this moment been unfocused, were now locked onto Karl's. "My mistake. Mine. Not yours."
Karl hesitated, his hand still inches from the seal of the vial. Then, as quickly as he had produced it, he slid it away into his jacket.
Jacob sighed. "Ismael-" he whispered, his voice hoarse and barely audible over the din, "-Cohen. It was my name." He raised a hand towards Karl, who took it into his own. "Here, now, for you- Jacob." He smiled.
Then, after one more shallow breath, Jacob Schwartz died.
Karl was the first to stand. He took several deep breaths, trying desperately not to think about it.
"We need to go," he said. "The car pool, he said there were cars. We need to get out of here."
Devin looked up, his eyes red behind tears. "We can't leave him here. We can't." He turned to Sam as if to beg her, but she was already frantically digging around in her bag. After a second, she pulled out a thin brush and a small container of light blue paint. She motioned for Devin to stand back, and the young man took two hesitant steps away from Jacob's body.
With a swift, deft hand, she ran long lines of paint across the body. At the spots where the lines intersected, light shined through the color of the paint as if from underneath it. She ran several more lines, and then more crossing over those, and then stepped back. Jacob's body was covered in many thin lines of glowing blue paint, which blinked and pulsed slowly. She leaned forward over him, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.
Like lightning, the lines all lit up at once. Each of the individual cells created by the crossing lined began to change until they were cloudy and opaque, as if he was covered in many pieces of stained glass. As they all solidified into a glass cocoon around the body, Sam brought the other end of her brush down into the center of the figure, shattering it. The glass collapsed, and suddenly the air was filled with a prismatic cloud of crystal butterflies, each sounding a single note of a song that played around them over the chaos of the fighting beyond. They swung around the group once, and then away from them into the air. The glass was no more, and Jacob's body was gone.
Karl grabbed the two of them up, and together they raced down the alley towards the back of the manor. More explosions lit up the night sky, and dark figures raced into the woods outside the city all around them. When they reached the car lot, half of the vehicles there were on fire and a ten meter crater was carved out of the ground where they had been. They scrambled through an open gate and surveyed the scene.
"Shit," Sam said, "what are we going to do?"
Without warning, a military jeep came around the corner from behind a patch of trees, stopping in front of them. The door opened and a man climbed out, his features hidden beneath a hood and bandanna.
"Take the car," the man said, "drive north until you are out of the country. A map in the glove box will take you to your next contact." He looked back towards the flaming city behind them. "Is the Consulate dead?"
Karl nodded.
The man didn't move. "And Schwartz?"
None of them responded. The man paused, and then handed a pack to Karl. "This is food, water, and munitions to last you until you reach the checkpoint. You must hurry - the Consulates have their kill squads roaming the countryside looking for you."
He took a few steps towards the treeline, and then turned back. "For the Insurgency."
"For the Insurgency," Karl echoed.
The man disappeared into the trees, and the three of them climbed into the jeep. As another bomb dropped nearby, they tore out of the lot and onto a dirt road heading north into the dark forest.
- BACK -
