Everybody Wants To Rule The World 3

3 – Critical Mass


The mind has exactly the same power as the hands; not merely to grasp the world, but to change it.

-- Colin Wilson


"You have got to see this."

Brian went back to his desk after reading Virgil's text message. Something like that from him is always an important matter and must not be delayed. He sat down and turned on his computer. He opened his email application and saw that there's a new message in his inbox.

With a click from his mouse the message opened. It read:

Subject: NP 216

Message:

Attached in this message is a document which came from our insider in the west. As of now we don't have a clue on what the number means, but the abbreviation stands for North Pole. The document discusses about the alleged terrorist base situated there which was obliterated by American forces. We don't know what does this have to do with the current attacks, but the insider insists that the two are very much connected. Just read it yourself.

Virgil.

Brian didn't download the file since every incoming file in all computers in the IDA is duplicated and kept for security reasons. Instead he'll rather download it in his laptop at home. And he's got a few hours left in this place; his drones didn't have anything new to report in the past few hours.

He put his computer on standby, stood up and went to the terrace. There he took a cigarette from the inside pocket of his coat and lit it. His doctor couldn't shake him out of his habit, his wife couldn't while she was alive, and his son couldn't too. Nobody or nothing stopped him from smoking even at his age. His wife Pauleen was killed in a car accident last year and his only son, Byron, is now living on his own in an apartment. After Pauleen's death Brian and his son never again met nor talked. Byron refused to answer any of his father's calls or messages, and Brian grew tired of his son's antics.

Guess I'm not really a good father.

Good thing he didn't have anyone else other than Byron. Now he can dedicate his whole life in his work. He's gone through a lot in his life, from car chases in breakneck speed to actually getting shot on the leg. Explosions, gunfire, executions, everything. And he's decided that this will be his last assignment before retiring. He can see a lot of potential candidates as his successor, so why not take the opportunity of retiring early?

But of course he'll make sure that he will end this chaos. His name will be remembered in the history books as the one who solved one of the most mysterious incidents in the history of mankind.

Byron would be proud of him, but he's not so sure if he'll want to talk to his son again. Byron blames him for the death of Pauleen, saying that it was his drunk driving that cost her life. And Brian was too drunk that night to actually recall what happened.

All that he could remember is that he was driving home with Pauleen, and he's a bit intoxicated. Busy Manila night road, a Friday night to be precise. Everybody's anxious to go back home, and at 11 PM there weren't much vehicles on the road.

Pauleen sat on the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on her laptop, busy finishing a document which she said was due at midnight.

"Keep your eyes on the road honey. You shouldn't have accepted Darryl's dare on the beer," Pauleen said with her soft voice, her fingers tapped the keyboard noisily.

Brian smirked then answered, "His dare is jack shit. I could've emptied that goddamn keg if only Byron isn't waiting for his pizza!"

"And if only my boss isn't waiting for this document then I could've joined you in emptying that keg," Pauleen laughed. She tried to minimize her breathing since Brian's breath is too much to bear.

What followed is a bright flash of light. Afterwards Brian found himself lying on one of the hospital beds in the Philippine General Hospital. A bright white light shone on the ceiling, his weary eyes tried to open but only into narrow slits. He rested for a couple of minutes until he gathered enough strength to actually raise his head. He saw a doctor and a nurse on both sides of his bed; the doctor tapped his right hand.

"DUI. Mr. Brian Young. Fortunately you only broke your left arm," the doctor said.

"My wife, where is she?" Brian asked with a weak voice.

"She's in the operating room. She suffered from severe injuries most especially on her chest area. Get some rest sir; we'll inform you about her condition in a matter of hours."

Brian threw his head back onto the pillow. He couldn't move his body; he had no other choice but to wait.

Then the doctor told him that Pauleen didn't make it. Brian stayed in the hospital for a week; Byron paid him a few visits. After that he went back home, fully recovered, but his heart is still shattered. Byron refused to talk to him; they no longer ate their meals together, hell he couldn't even bear to look at his father's eyes for a couple of seconds. It's like Brian became the devil incarnate, a goddamn killer. Even at Pauleen's funeral the two didn't talk, their friends and guests began to notice as well.

Then Byron suddenly vanished, his room cleared of his stuff. His accounts on his social networking sites and emails were all wiped clean. A family friend then told Brian that his son is now staying in an apartment in Manila but refused to say where he worked. Brian only hoped that they will not cross paths on the wrong side of town, but he did hope that someday he'll get to talk to his son again, even if it's on his deathbed.

Tap tap tap.

Brian turned and saw the janitor peering on a narrow slit of the barely-opened door. He looked at his wristwatch and was shocked to see that it's already 5 PM; he spent thirty minutes on the terrace staring at the sky and puffing smoke. He looked at the floor of his terrace and saw the butts of seven cigarette sticks and the eighth one on his mouth.

He shook his head as he went back into his office and packed his things. He turned off the lights and left.


----------------------------


Captain Blaine ran as fast as he could. His combat boots clanked noisily against the metal catwalk which loomed above a dark pit. Dozens of red beams danced on the walls and the ceiling of this tunnel, making it look like a vertical disco zone.

His eyes locked on the first obstacle: a metal bar. With his parkour expertise he vaulted over the bar with relative ease and slid under the next obstacle. His feet kicked open the wooden door and he climbed up a wooden wall and rappelled back down to the catwalk with the rope attached to the wall. He pushed open a metal door which led him to a wide open space.

A landing pad to be precise, but with makeshift obstacles. He rested his right hand on the holster of his tranquilizer pistol as he slowly made his way through the helipad. Suddenly a man wearing a military uniform popped out of the cardboard wall with a machine gun on hand. Adam was quick enough to draw his pistol and land a dart on the man's chest.

Another armed hostile appeared on the opposite side which Adam quickly took care of as well. He rushed his way to the other side where a white metal door awaited him. Five more hostiles appeared in varying positions which made Adam drop for cover. With deadly precision he took them out one by one without getting himself shot.

The white metal door is actually an elevator which brought him deeper into the installation. He took this moment to catch his breath and rest his legs.

He didn't know what this exercise is for. He only remembered the phone call while he was on the ruined district early this morning. After he ate his lunch at the base a black limousine pulled up right behind his car and a man wearing an expensive business suit walked out of the vehicle.

The man shook his hand and introduced himself as the "Speaker". An earpiece is visible on his left ear; obviously he's being controlled by someone higher than him.

"Captain Blaine. The Arbiter spoke to you earlier on the phone. He's asked me to give you this," the man handed Adam a card. It bore nothing but a set of numbers, seemingly random.

"What's this, a phone number?" Adam asked.

"Coordinates. Split them into three groups. The location is in this city."

The Speaker added, "Prepare your body for the ordeal. You will be briefed upon arrival."

Before Adam could say another word the Speaker turned around and walked back to the limo. The vehicle quickly drove away from the location. Adam was tempted to follow them but instead he went back home and prepared his stuff. Two handguns, extra ammo clips and body armor. He put the weapons in a backpack and covered his armor underneath his blue shirt.

He drove to the written coordinates which led him to a grassy field where the limo and the Speaker awaited him. The Speaker asked him to leave his bag and his car behind where three men wearing the same suits stood guard. Adam had no other choice but to oblige. Then he was led into the limo which drove away.

The limo stopped on what seems to be an abandoned military base. The Speaker gave Adam a military outfit and a tranquilizer pistol then said, "Clear the course."

He added, "Failure to comply will result in your immediate termination by our snipers watching you right now."

Adam had no other choice.

He wanted to ask who these guys were but they refused to talk to him. They wanted him to finish this obstacle course.

The elevator doors opened which revealed a dark chamber. Adam stepped inside and a dozen dim red lights flooded the chamber, revealing its vast emptiness save for a pedestal on the center. Adam approached the pedestal and found another card on it, the same one the Speaker gave him. But this time it bore nothing, not a single letter or number.

"Congratulations, Captain Blaine," a deep voice suddenly spoke.

Adam tried to locate where the voice is coming from but he saw nothing except for the dimly-lit metal walls.

"Too easy, just like boot camp," Adam remained cocky.

"That's just the first part of your training. It will continue as your career progresses."

"Career?"

An automatic door opened behind Adam where two men in business suits appeared, both with shotguns on hand. They stood on Adam's both sides and aimed their firearms on his head.

"Yes, Captain Blaine. You will be working for us now. There's no other option for you."

The Speaker walked out of the door behind Adam and stood in front of him. Adam locked his gaze on the Speaker's shades.

"Welcome to BlackWatch, Captain Blaine. The Arbiter is most certainly pleased."


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Armand and Paul stood in front of the blue wooden door with their eyes fixed on the knob. Both of them carried bags on both hands and they relied on their voices to get the door opened.

"Maaaaark!" Armand called out.

"Sheeeeiillaaaa!" Paul followed.

The door then opened, a man in his 30's stood with a wide grin on his face. His long hair covered half his forehead and almost touched his eyes.

"CHAAANG! PAAAUUU!"

"Keep your voice down Mark!" a female voice barked from inside the house.

"SHUT UP, OUR FAVORITE BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!"

"Don't you feel cold Mark?" Armand asked, pointing at Mark's shirtless body which revealed a flabby build.

"NAAAAA, BEER KEEPS ME WAAAARM!"

Suddenly he was pushed aside by Sheila. Waist-length hair with a fair complexion, sexy figure contrast to Mark's pathetic build, sweet calm voice even when intoxicated. Armand always wondered how Mark managed to win her heart.

"Mark gulped the beer, all of it. Fortunately we still have some vodka left," Sheila said, her face a bit red.

"Great, we brought some extra supplies as well. Chips, biscuits, Coke---"

Paul interrupted Armand mid-sentence, "20-in-1 DVD's, hard drive full of por—"

"Come in," Sheila said, not wanting to hear what Paul has brought to the sleepover.

The two entered the house and into the living room where dozens of San Miguel Beer cans were tossed on the floor. Mark lay on the sofa, now asleep because of his impatience to actually wait for the guests before drinking. Armand and Paul both put their gear on the floor next to the sofa which faced a flat-screen TV, currently on the Discovery channel.

"Forgive Mark, he's been drinking since three in the afternoon," Sheila said as she took out the bottles of vodka on the fridge.

And now its 9 PM. No wonder he's knocked out now.

Sheila pointed to the two chairs on the dining table where the duo sat. She served them both with glasses where three ice cubes floated on the transparent pool of vodka. They don't drink with chasers nowadays, insisting that it's nothing more but a teenage thing. She sat on the chair next to Armand and sipped her drink.

"So, how's life going on for you guys?" She asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Busy on the mysterious attacks and still have nothing about it," Paul said.

"Same here, busy on the bodies from the mysterious attacks. I'm moving back to New Era General Hospital because they need more hands there," Armand answered her question.

"I see. Everybody's on their toes now because of those attacks. Vicious and unexplained, nothing can be more terrifying than that. Mark here no longer goes out of the house at night, he's locked himself in and works for an online company in the computer," Sheila said, her right index finger pointed to a snoring Mark.

Armand gulped down a sip of his drink. The bittersweet taste crawled down his throat and made his chest a bit warm. He knew that drinking is bad for his muscles, especially now that he just worked out yesterday. His biceps are still sore after doing a heavy set, and he felt bad washing it down with alcohol. He assured himself that there's still plenty of time for him to do weights, and this drinking thing is just occasional.

"What about you, She?" Paul asked.

"Oh me, well I'm still working in the dental clinic. I'm planning on leaving next month, hopefully Mark will just agree and say nothing more about it," she rested her head above her left hand. Her eyes indicate that she's a bit sleepy now.

"Where do you plan on moving?" Paul again asked.

"I dunno, maybe with my parents in Cebu. Long trip, yeah, but better than getting stuck in the middle of this chaos. You guys don't wanna move someplace?"

Paul shook his head. Armand did so too. They both said the same answer, "We're staying because of our jobs and our family."

Sheila smiled. The fact that these two best-friends-since-grade school can't leave their jobs and families behind is pretty amusing for her. It's just like they're glued together for life. They both don't have girlfriends, they both hang out, and they both do almost the same things together. They're almost like siblings now.

Sheila stood up then said, "Be right back, gotta check on something on the computer."

Armand nodded, Paul drank his vodka straight up and shook his head as the taste smacked him right on his face.


-------------------------


"Deployment vector confirmed."

"Location confirmed."

"Sagana Homes, Quezon City."

"Deploying."


------------------------------


"Not those helicopters again."

Sheila heard the loud and irritating helicopter blades as they grew louder, indicating a nearby landing. For three consecutive nights these choppers regularly fly around the skies in Sagana Homes much to the dismay of those living there. The noise penetrated the silence of the night air and it's just too much to bear.

But this time she wanted to know why there's a chopper landing on the empty field near her home. Sheila stood up, donned a jacket, and went through the back door, ignoring Armand and Paul who busied themselves with the television. She went outside and over the wooden fence which separated her house and the field.

The black chopper laid there, engines turned off; six men who appeared to be carrying a rectangular object got out of it and made their way towards the flagpole right in front of her house, also surrounded by seven more houses. They gently laid the object on the ground and ran back to the chopper which flew up to the sky in a hurry.

What was that?

She carefully walked towards the flagpole but was cut short by a loud howl coming from an unknown location. The loud piercing howl made her cover her ears and crouch to the ground.

Whatever is coming next is something she isn't prepared for.