Note: Drawing “Pursuit” belongs to Craig Bruyn
Messages Across Time
“The riot expands, the casualties grow in numbers and yet you refuse to take any actions. May I inquire as to why that is?”
The President put his glass on the table.
“It is essential for the success of this operation that people continue to feel threatened. As long as we have media attention directed towards the situation in the city, however delicate it is, we can control the events ahead. I trust you know the importance of things developing need be in our interest.”
“That I do. You managed to fool them all. I say the biggest propaganda stunt of the century. But, despite all Jonathan, I dislike the filth swarming our… your city streets. I don’t wish to tolerate radical actions, nor observe how this plot spawns dismay and total anarchy. Tone down the heat or you risk losing your position.”
The President stood. The Oval Office was silent, the curtains pulled tightly. Both men were shrouded in soft darkness, consuming the whispered words of one’s plotting and other’s hopes.
“I know the stakes here. I know what I’m doing. It is for the good of the nation. No matter the cost.”
The other man shook his head in obedient approval. “Very well then. I have given you my advice; be careful. There are people out there who would do anything to destroy what we’ve been building.”
Bright light erupted, coloring the white walls of a tunnel and a hand reached out from the portal expanding, blindly searching for something to hold on to. The hole spat out Jaquel and he fell spent on the hard ground. His travel was shaky; he could still feel his body transparent, distant, alien.
He got up, panting and unlocked his gun from the belt, pointing it at the rip. To his amazement it still held connection, though unstable. “Come on close!” hissed Jaquel “I can’t be responsible for a rift!”
The portal began to shrink and Jaquel, reassured, moved away.
His footsteps echoed in the empty tunnel, the sound calming him, telling him he’s home, under protection. Then the buzzing came back. Upon hearing the so familiar noise, Jaquel searched for it, looking back at the closed bridge, looking behind him, to his left, to his right. Then he lifted his gaze and stood still watching as a large portal rips above his head, the ceiling crushing down from the vibrations. Jaquel moved swiftly before the blocks fell shattering. Amongst the ashes and the pouring light stood a hooded man, in each hand a pistol, his long coat brushing the floor.
“Tinker, tailor, soldier….spy.” he pointed at Jaquel.
The assassin becoming prey, Jaquel thought as he made a run for it, passing a “CLOSED FOR RECONSTRUCTION” sign at the end of the tunnel. The hitman followed, keeping close range.
Turning on alley corners, again and again and again, Jaquel found himself facing a stone gray wall towering too high for him to climb and jump over.
“Journey ends here Mr. Jaquel. No more hiding, no more secrecy.” The hooded man’s voice rang loud in the tight space. Jaquel turned to face him, his right hand gripping the handle of his pistol.
“I take it you’re one of President Beland’s men.”
“I’m simply assisting him in eradicating a certain number of people. Guess whose name is at the top of the list.”
Jaquel aimed his gun and fired. The bullet ricocheted from the man’s chest into the brick wall.
“No, no. Guns come at the end if the necessity of one’s death is highly needed.”
He placed his weapons back in their holsters.
Jaquel slowly lowered his, allowing the man to approach him. The stranger pushed back his hood, icy blue eyes coldly staring, a chuckle on his thin lips.
“I have orders to dispose of you.”
Jaquel roared at him.
“Good luck with that!”
Jaquel made an attempt to duck and fire his gun into the assassins head, but a strong fist, met his face, hitting him under the chin, bouncing his head back. A strong grab and twisting on his wrist made him drop his gun. He managed to pull back and distance himself from the wall. Jaquel dashed at the man, directing his knee on the ribs. His opponent jumped back, his hands before his face for protection. But Jaquel was quick, looking for a fast fight and exit. Delivering a powerful kick on his thigh he pushed down his attacker, and continued kicking him, aiming for his groin and face. He stomped with anger then knelt to continue his assault when a boot hit him in the throat. The assassin rolled over, spitting blood. Jaquel, distracted and coughing tried to remain steady when the man stroke his heel upon his knee. Something cracked and Jaquel screamed. He fell. The hooded man stood up and grabbed Jaquel by the jacket head butting him, bloodying his nose. He consecutively smashed his fists into Jaquel’s ribs then delivered his elbow upon Jaquel’s temple. He threw him down, helpless and broken.
“I need not kill you. But dispose of you in a manner more efficient and obliging to the President’s plans.” The assassin spat on the body at his feet then rolled over Jaquel and tore his jacket uncovering his neck. He grabbed the back of Jaquel’s head tight and took a slim, rectangular no more than 3 inches device out of his pocket. He placed it on the exposed skin and pushed. Jaquel released a weak groan as the teeth of the device bit onto his neck. His eyes whitened. He felt sick as pulsating pain, touch, smell and noise went dull.
The man still kneeling took out his phone and dialed a six digit number before entering the text.
“He’s been compromised. Mission successful.”
Next on: “Operation Sandstorm”
The Humvee came down a steep road and drove through southern Nevada. Ahead ghostly wind caressed the curves of velvet dunes.
“Is this your first time visiting, Mr. Belfour?” a soldier questioned the civil quest in the vehicle. The man nodded and answered politely. The soldier asked no more, but continued taking glances at the scar upon the left cheek of the scientist.
To be continued…