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Chapter 57 - Hymns of Death
🕑 Added 2023-09-15 20:23:59 +0000 UTCChapter 57
Hymns of Death
Ethan pulled back the crimson blade, revealing a soft, old face that paled almost immediately, drained of blood. Colonel Quincy Jeeves lay dead in his bed next to a woman–likely his wife–who was wholly unaware of what had just transpired. Pulling back, he left the bedroom through the window, dismissing the notification that informed him that he'd managed to steal 0.02 Vitality from killing the man.
He didn't dilly-dally, immediately beelining for the third man–First Lieutenant Mark Elleween–who stayed in the repurposed tire store with his family and a couple of guards who were dozing off at the front. Once again, Ethan snuck in with ease and found the man lying prone on the bed, fully naked with the sheet straddled to the side, the other end of the bed empty as his wife was sleeping in the other room.
Once again going for the jugular, he ended a life in the blink of an eye and disappeared from the scene just as quickly. He felt at ease–as though he refitted a dislocated shoulder after so long–moving about the dark alleys and streets of the city’s military compound. He was certain that Michael was awake and looking for him, and though it didn’t seem like he purposefully increased the number of patrols or guards, the General was likely eyeing every security camera feed of the compound, looking for his shadow.
He wouldn’t see it, however–Ethan was, for all intents and purposes, invisible. When he moved, he made no sound, and he could easily calculate precisely where all the blind corners were, how he could approach any point and from where, and could do it all in seconds.
It wasn’t long before he stood over the last of the four–Major Thomas Jones. He was the youngest of the sort, though just as equally unaware as the crimson blade slithered like a snake toward his throat, ending his life.
Sighing as he left through the window once more, Ethan climbed to the rooftop and observed the city in silence. There were still some lights in the windows here and there, but he could distinctly remember just how alive the place was–the roaring of the engines, the seeping music from the pubs and clubs, the city breathed life even in the dead of the night. Now, there was little, if almost nothing.
Ethan whipped out his phone and dialled a number, his ears perked up to the maximum. Though he didn’t have much hope and was just doing it out of habit, he actually did hear the ring echo some four hundred yards east. His eyes immediately glazed over to the building in question–it was a small, inconspicuous apartment building nestled between two far more imposing ones. Just as Michael answered the call, Ethan began heading over over the rooftops, easily evading all the prying eyes.
“... hello.” The General’s voice was strained with a shade of grief and guilt.
“You sound like you were the one who had to off them,” Ethan said.
“It’s… it’s done? So fast?!” the man couldn’t hide the shock from seeping into his voice.
“What? Even after that ass-whooping I handed you, you still underestimated me?” Ethan chuckled softly, approaching the apartment building.
“Did you get the proof?”
“Nah,” Ethan said. “Not in the habit of snapping pics of dead, half-naked to naked guys and storing them on my phone.”
“...”
“You’ll be informed tomorrow. Why the anxiety?” Ethan reached the building in question and, with a bit of fiddling, figured out where Michael was–stationed in one of the rear apartments, with no clear sight line from anywhere nearby, and with a perfect route of escaping if need be, a lot of thought went into where the General would be housed at the odd hours of the night. “Right. Don’t hit that alarm button.”
“What?” Ethan couldn’t enter the General’s apartment directly–it was under heavy surveillance from cameras on all ends, and likely even soldiers. However, he simply snuck into the one above and stomped his foot gently just above the General’s head. “That…”
"I'm coming in," it took a bit of middling to find the softest point on the floor but he eventually managed to drill out a hole in complete silence and slide through it, appearing right in front of Michael who stared aghast at the sight of him. If there was one place in the entire compound that he was confident no one could sneak in, it was this office. And yet… “Yo.”
“... how… how did you…”
"I've got some tricks up my sleeve," Ethan replied, walking up and sitting down opposite the man. "I've fulfilled my end of the dead. Four dead soldiers are singing hymns in heaven and cursing me out right about now."
“... did they suffer?” Michael asked.
“I’m a murderer, not a sadist,” Ethan shook his head. “Damned the difference though may be. You wanna fess up why you wanted them dead, or should we just move on?”
“... one was part of the external compound, Marissa,” Michael said. “She was sent over from the newly found Fort Haven. It wasn’t long before we figured out she was secretly recruiting soldiers with seemingly good Classes for another section of the army entirely.”
“...”
“Thomas Jones… I liked him,” Michael said. “He seemed like a good man.”
“So, what changed?”
“James–the man I was with the other day–found out he’s CIA,” Michael sighed, reaching into the desk and taking out two glasses before pouring some expensive-looking whiskey into both of them. “And if there’s one group of folk I trust even less than you right now in the world, it's the CIA.”
“Right. Roughish, handsome lads who operate in the shadows. We’re basically cut from the same cloth. What about the other two?”
“Lieutenant General Zachery Collins,” Michael said, taking a sip. “He’s my second in command. Mark is–was–his nephew.”
"Wow. Sending a message," Ethan whistled lowly, taking a sip of whiskey. He was never much of an alcohol connoisseur–10 or 200-dollar bottles barely tasted differently to him, heresy be damned. "How very Machiavellian of you."
“He’s wormed his way into spearheading a secret project,” Michael said, practically revealing all his cards. By now, he’d recognised that he’d made his bed–and, for better or for worse, it was with the man in front of him. “And had taken it into a radical direction.”
“Hm? What project?” Ethan asked.
“We call it HUMAN,” the General said as Ethan’s stomach knotted. “Humane understanding of mutating Awakened and their negation.”
“...”
“You don’t seem surprised that it exists.”
“Military experimenting on people?” Ethan cracked a grin. “No way.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be experimentation,” Michael sighed, slinging back into the chair. “I envisioned it as a voluntary part of enlistment–get enrolled, have some blood drawn, your brain scanned, all that jazz, and get priority for some future nonsense related to the entire thing. I really only wanted to understand whether there were any major drawbacks to being Awakened.
“However, supposedly, Zach has some contacts in DC and he managed to sweep in and take over. For a moment, I thought you were working with him.”
“Hm? Why?” Ethan asked curiously.
“Because you asked for Sarah,” Michael replied. “She’s the one heading the HUMAN project… and the only one keeping it even remotely… well, human.”
“... what?” Ethan’s expression darkened abruptly and his voice grew cold, prompting Michael to look up at him.
“I thought Zach hired you or something to take her out,” Michael said. “Otherwise, why would you want a random Lieutenant dead? But seeing as you killed his nephew without so much as a ‘my bad’, I’m guessing not.”
“...” Ethan’s innards were burning–part in doubt, and part in desire to ask questions he knew he couldn’t. Not without revealing too much. “What does he want to do with the project?” Ethan asked instead.
“Speed it up, as he claims,” Michael replied. “Which simply means doing what I have promised every soldier wouldn’t happen.”
“Why not ask me to simply kill him instead?”
“... you don’t understand,” the General sighed heavily. “Even just these four deaths will cause such massive waves I might get deposed if I don’t play my cards right. One of them was a Colonel. Men and women in that position simply shouldn’t be killed in the safety of a military base. If a Lieutenant General was found dead… all hell would break loose. Beyond that, however, it’s similar to how just killing a dictator in a totalitarian country rarely, if ever, truly fixes anything. In most cases, in fact, it only makes things worse.
“I don’t mind playing politics–it’s something that comes with a job–but the red tape can be suffocating in more ways than one.”
“... fascinating,” Ethan finished off the rest of the whiskey in one go. He could be lying, the evidence against Sarah was overwhelming, to say the least. Not only was her signature on virtually every paper that approved the testing but testimonies of dozens of soldiers confirmed that she was the head of the snake. In addition, until her dying breath, she never claimed otherwise. She never defended herself. Rather than trusting the words of a man with a vested interest in keeping Sarah alive, Ethan knew he should trust what he knew for a fact. However, Michael didn't know why Ethan wanted Sarah dead. “Sounds like an exhausting life.”
“It is,” Michael nodded. “But, someone must live it. As per our agreement, I will look for the girl. As soon as I find–”
“Her name’s Delilah,” Ethan interrupted, causing Michael to merely smile. “I want to change parts of our deal.”
“Hm?” Michael frowned.
“If you give me Delilah,” Ethan continued. “And let me talk to Sarah face-to-face, I’ll help you end the ‘Zachary problem’.”
“Killing him isn’t a solution.”
“I’m not only a murderer, General,” Ethan stood up with a flamboyantly hurt expression. “I’m more than my ability to kill in silence. How offensive.”
“...”
“Right. Tell me where I can find some beer to stea–khm, buy, and some colouring books.”
“... an odd combo. A daughter?” Michael probed.
“Does it matter?”
“... you said you can identify the doppelganger,” Michael changed the topic of the conversation. “What would you need? Besides the security feed.”
“... send me the list of mysterious disappearances,” Ethan said. “Or, rather, just all of them with perfectly pinned places where they went missing on the map. I’ll see what I can do. Now, beer and books?”
"... you can find colouring books in the children's library just outside the military base," Michael said. "And beer is, well, hoarded, to be honest. We have a lot of new-generation bootleggers around. I got a report that one of their hideouts is the old Mark's. Some locally famous burger joint?"
“Oh, I know Mark’s. So, you’re saying they got beer there?”
“Beer, scotch, moonshine too.”
“And this isn’t just you trying to get rid of one of the problems?”
“Quid-pro-quo.” Michael smiled.
“... fair enough,” Ethan smiled back. “We’ll be in touch, General. Stay safe.” Ethan disappeared through the hole in the ceiling, bringing with him the glass. Michael could only smile at the paranoia–it had never actually crossed his mind to use the glass to lift Ethan’s fingertips and identify him. Alas, it seemed, more and more, that only the paranoid sort would thrive in the world of monstrous creation. Finishing off the whiskey, he stood up and walked over to the window, looking out beyond the city, at the sprawling hillside that led into a mountain.
Michael knew he crossed a line tonight–a line that no soldier, let alone a General, should ever cross. He closed his eyes and let the weight of it all bear down on him. He’d take the sins–all of them–and move onward. It was his burden to bear.
