A balding, slim man sat in a small dining room, his old and withered appearance clashing with the designer suit and briefcase he wielded. The glass windows let in the dim, fading light of the evening, while the cheap yellow lighting made everything a shade of yellow. The pale cream booths and disinterested servers who offered subpar service painted this establishment as unpopular and in decline. Perfect for the man's needs.
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He absentmindedly typed away on a small laptop, a smartphone held in the crook of his neck as he spoke softly as he worked. However, any close inspection would show the man writing literary nonsense with no particular rhyme or reason to it. He was confident speaking here; the employees were so bad that they ignored the customers without fail, and the few others here were of no concern.
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"Dixon, I was hoping to hear from you soon. I was concerned you had gotten caught."
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"Despite your lack of care, I have worked hard to ensure my cover and safety have been assured." Dixon sniped impatiently at the man on the other end of the line. "This whole arrangement is a mess."
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"Things are progressing as we intended, no? The written report sent my way suggested such. Regardless, the orders are passed on to me, which I am now passing on to you. You know just as well as I do we have no choice in the matter."
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"Don't try your manipulations on me, I know just how inhuman you are, George," Dixon replied, nearly allowing his voice to rise, before reigning it in. "That's not my point, though. I know I have no choice. But this whole operation is sloppy; I've spent too long in Eyeville, greasing too many gears. Anyone who's looking or paying attention is going to catch on. And that deal we made…"
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"It went as well as written then?" George asked. There was a tiniest bit of excitement bleeding through his tone. "We gained the three new candidates?"
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"Just left the sentencing myself, the three are being sent to separate pods within the tricounty prison. Just as you predicted, one of them was oddly willing; once he was told of our earnest intentions, he proved interested, even plotted this result himself. Could be promising." Dixon listed off, knowing better than to withhold information from George. "Lawyers and political figures in our sway are being weaponized to ensure they are selected for the program."
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"And you maintained your cover, correct?"
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"Kept interactions brief and unremarkable, used three separate identities throughout, and even left a false trail in case someone gets wise." Dixon listed. "I'm not an amateur… Why are they so concerned, George?"
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"We have reason to believe he is active in the area."
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"Who the hell is he?"
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"Formerly Operative Scorpio Twenty Four. Though has abandoned the cause and even crosses horns with us on occasion. The man-"
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"I know his description and history, but this wasn't on the field report, intel, or even parameters of the assignment." Dixon snapped back. "That man is barely even human!"
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"It should be fine, he took a couple of local cases, it seems like his usual motive."
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"We're talking about a man wanted by the Company; they don't hunt men. Yet alone have one as an open enemy and potential threat!"
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"He is a unique exception, one that shouldn't concern you. As we said, it's not a true concern for you; just doing our part to keep you informed. That being said, caution would be best. Now that your work is done, make your way back to one of the bases. Make sure you have no tails, and only arrive once you're certain you're cleared. We have added to your pay for the unforeseen element."
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"Sir."
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"Good work, detective. Directive is inquiring as to the status of the other candidates?"
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Dixon smiled tiredly; he'd been busy. Travelling across the country, finding suitable candidates, and arranging the ideal circumstances for their plans. It was stressful work, long hours of intense details, to say nothing of the danger of it all. But he was good at his job and easy with the resources his employers provided.
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"As you've read before, all the other candidates have been detained in various ways, selected for the program, which we have managed to arrange in one of the target states. With this latest outing, we can assure our candidates are within reach, and the program will go on at this point. Just a question of whether the program will work." Dixon answered proudly. "What are my orders now? I will extract obviously, but where am I going?"
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"We have lighter orders for you now. A file is being sent to your laptop now. It will explain what's next and your role in this." George said cryptically. "Luckily, it will be much safer than your current assignment."
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"What about some time off…" Dixon complained.
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"Figured you might be saying that, it should be hitting your account now."
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Dixon's smile became nearly manic as his banking app notified him of a deposit, two hundred thousand dollars, enough money for a long while.
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"That amount paid two more times, assuming you work earnestly, of course."
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"Understood, sir!" Dixon assured desperately. "I'll head that way immediately, just send the coordinates to me!"
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"Good, thought we were going to have a situation there," George said happily. "Until you arrive, I won't be contacting you. If you do not get in touch within two weeks, you will be considered MIA. There will be no effort to retrieve you. Exercise extreme caution in your extraction."
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Dixon nodded, stashing his phone within his suitcase and standing up. He left enough money to pay for his fare and a meager tip before closing his laptop and slinking out of the store. The man had hated his time in Eyeville more than most. It was unfortunate that the same county the candidates were from was also where they'd be held. It required Dixon to stick around much longer than he had planned. And something about the town made his skin crawl, like the whole place was some thick facade. How easy it had been to set up the candidates made it clear that this town, far in the dense forest of Kentucky, was different from the rest of the world.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
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As such, it was with great glee that Dixon loaded into his simple sedan and began the drive to leave this place. His nerves were frayed nearly the entire trip, simply waiting for the other shoe to drop. But he left the confines of Eyeville with relative ease. As he did, he parked the rental sedan off the side of the road and removed his laptop and suitcase, whistling a merry tune as he did. Once he had removed his desirables, what looked to be a glowing ball bearing, and tossed it into the car. As he trekked deeper into the woods, the car exploded, then became an inferno. It would rage on for a while, destroying evidence of his presence, but wouldn’t be a threat to anything nearby.
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Trekking into the forest, Dixon looked around, finding a tight-looking cluster of smaller trees. The man appeared to grab the air around them, pulling it and revealing a thinner-than-paper cloth that shifted to match its surroundings. It showed a black Hummer hidden beneath, and Dixon collected the sheet along with his other belongings and tossed them into the back of the vehicle.
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Still whistling a tune, Dixon approached the front of the vehicle, stopped by the driver's side tire well, reached into it, and pulled out a set of keys. The man prepared to open the driver's side door before a snapping of a twig set off his nerves. Without missing a beat, Dixon turned, removing a nine millimeter Glock and firing five shots blindly into the forest at his back. Utter silence returned after his gunshots, there seemingly being no soul to react. But Dixon only felt his tension increase; the forest was silent. The birds, insects, and critters that created a constant cascade of sounds were absent. It suggested something was nearby that had spooked him before his shots. Perhaps simply a larger animal, but all the same, Dixon stood ready, eyes scanning the tree line for signs of a threat.
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"I'm warning you now!" Dixon barked out. "I am armed and willing to shoot. This is a private affair, one you'd be wise to see your way out of!"
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"They really let anyone into the Company these days, huh?" A gravely male voice sounded out from the surrounding forest. "Firing off those shots was a silly idea, letting me know this is something special was worse, and that abysmal job of losing tails is the worst offence of the bunch."
Dixon felt fear creep into his mind. Whoever this was wasn't phased by him being armed. They were prepared to be shot at, even finding it all amusing. Luckily, his training won out; he scrambled for the car door, ripping it open and climbing inside with feral desperation. He threw his phone into the glove box, and a silence stretched out for a moment. He felt a calmness return to him as it did. This was no regular Hummer; it was bulletproof, armored to the gills, and designed to get their employees out of hell if necessary. Not that he was inside, he could merely drive off; the guy out there would be helpless to stop him. However, a sharp and alarming thought occurred to him. How the hell did this guy know about the Company? Right as the dreadful conclusion began to dawn on him, the man spoke again.
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"Now that was your first smart move. Retreating to a defendable, barricaded position is the best response when facing an unknown foe. Suppose the Company's training hasn't fallen that low."
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Dixon cried out in fear as a massive impact shook the Hummer, the sound of crumpling metal and the crack of the plastic like glass terrifying him. As he looked at the hood of the vehicle, he found a man standing atop it, smiling down at him with a smirk that was nothing short of devious. He had long, tangled brown hair, gathered into a sort of man bun. He was dressed in a black trench coat, brown slacks, and black combat boots. The man seemed so confident that it made Dixon nervous, like he knew he was in no danger now. "It's you! The traitor!" Dixon roared.
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"Name isn't the Traitor," The man said with a sigh. "It's Thurgood, you can call me Thur though. The man then raised a boot and stomped it toward the windshield. Dixon nearly scoffed before the window splintered and shook from the first stomp. The shock made Dixon watch as the apparent Thur was stunned as he stomped two more times, the windshield sagging inward with each blow. His senses kicked in as the man aimed his weapon at the windscreen.
"Don't do that, I'll respond in kind, " Thur assured the man as he stomped down. Dixon didn't bother listening to the warning, aiming his weapon with intent to kill as the window shattered. Within the same instant, Dixon emptied his clip, five shots right where Thur was standing; however, the man became a blur, somehow weaving around the bullets, reaching into the shattered windshield, and gripping onto Dixon with what felt like inhuman strength. Dixon attempted to plead for mercy, but the next instant, he was flying through the air at an absurdly quick pace. He never realized how; he just saw a tree in his path, then an impact before darkness settled.
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"My bad," Thur said with a wince. "I warned you, though." With his conversation with the dead men over, Thur hopped off the hood of the Hummer and worked his way around to the driver's side.
The door was locked, but with a few measured pulls, it snapped open, the door folding from his force. He climbed into the driver's seat, searching it with laser focus. The vehicle was brand new, and the cabin held no personal artifacts. The only thing of note he found was an unopened bottle of water in the cupholder. Thirsty Thur smiled, opening and guzzling down the water as he checked the glove box. As soon as he opened it, a phone tumbled out to the floor of the car, buzzing loudly a moment later. Thur raised an eyebrow at such an auspicious occurrence. But picked it up a moment later and answered, his gut telling him it was no coincidence.
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"Ah, Scorpio Twenty Four." A cordial but dry voice spoke out through the phone. Thur sighed heavily, recognizing it in an instant. "I see you know who you're speaking to. Very good, you know how much I hate introductions. I assume Detective Dixon is not available anymore?"
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"Terrible to hear from you, George," Thur said with open disdain. "I sincerely hope you had died. Or at the very least were driven insane."
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"You wouldn't be so lucky, Scorpio Twent-"
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"Do not call me by that," Thur warned, his hand tensing, prepared to crush the phone. George chuckled; however, the bastard likely knew how he'd react.
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"My apologies, Thurgood. I don't mean to be hostile or open hostilities any further. In fact, I come with an olive branch. The Company wants you back, Thurgood, and is willing to overlook the past to do it." George replied evenly. "That's a good deal, one we know the Company doesn't cut often. Of course, refuse the deal, and the uneasy standstill we've had is continued. Dixon is a loss, but one we can afford; he completed a vital mission after all. However, I must warn you, old friend, if you take this any further, we will be forced to take action. You won’t just be an errant threat to us, but one we recognize that needs to be silenced…"
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"We're not friends." Thur nearly spat into the phone. However, he took a moment to ponder their words. When dealing with a man like George, every word and interaction could give him an edge. If Thur were a man of action, he would use his instincts and unique abilities to turn situations to his advantage. George did the same with his mind and voice, leveraging people in his favor. "I'm not coming back to The Company, you tell Directive that. But I can be open to standing down, but I gotta ask, what the hell have y'all been doing?"
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"I'm not sure what you mean."
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"Don't play with me, George. I've been tracking your boy here for a while. You knew that otherwise we wouldn't be talking. You've been working across the US right now; everywhere he went, men and women were locked away. Why?"
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"I can't tell you that Thurgood, and you shouldn't find out…"
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"You can't stop me. If you could, I'd be in a cell already."
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"We haven't even begun to try; we will now."
"Talk to you later, George."
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"We'll be seeing each other soon, Thurgood."
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Their talk done, Thurgood smashed the phone, relaxing slightly as he did. The Company knew where he was, but wouldn't make a move right away. They'd wait to see whether he would heed their warning. It would give him time. He exited the car and walked around to the back. With an annoyed tug, Thur ripped open the trunk, revealing a suitcase, a laptop, and what appeared to be camouflage cloth. Thur smirked at the bounty, wrapped the fabric around his waist like a belt, stashed the laptop within his coat, and snapped open the suitcase with ease. Inside was a folder of a simple stack of stapled papers. The front cover of which documents something called "Program: 15-11-1966". Thur hummed, amused, it seemed Dixion here was sloppy. He took the folder and stashed it within his coat as well. But as he did, he heard a tick, a click followed, and the slightest sound of rushing air.
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It was so silent that no normal human would have heard it. However, Thur heard it as clearly as if someone were speaking in the distance. He trusted his instinct and began to flee, turning his back in a panic. A moment later, there was the sound of an explosion, metal buckling from the pressure and shooting out shards. The force of it lifted Thur off his feet and slammed him into a tree hard enough to nearly knock him out. He fell for almost a full three seconds before hitting the hard, uneven ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He wheezed weakly; his body ached from it all. If he had normal bones, they’d be shattered. However, his mind forced his body to move, knowing he wasn’t safe yet.
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They barely managed to untie the cloth from his waist and wrapped it over the top of himself. As he did, he peeked back at the Hummer, a blackened shell burning fiercely in the forest, flames threatening to escalate into a much bigger issue. He cursed as he hid, knowing he couldn’t act. He did, however, allow him a small peephole in his blackened cover so that he could see his surroundings.
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A moment later, a quiet whirl was heard. Thur watched from his hiding spot as the nicest drone he’d ever seen hovered into the scene. It slowly patrolled the scene, stopping at anything notable and watching it for a moment. It was a slow and thorough scan. One that made Thur’s heart beat so hard he thought he’d be heard from that alone. It scanned the destroyed car, Dixion’s body, and slowly worked its way around. Its path is clearly heading toward Thur. Thur inwardly cursed to himself, entirely hiding within the camouflage and taking a risk. There was no guarantee the drone wouldn’t see through his spot, but if he were spotted, it would be even more trouble. So he lay completely still beneath his thin cover, awaiting a sound that would tell him he was spotted…
