EVO Universe 1: The First (4 page)

Not impressed Mark identified himself, “F.B.I…which means get the “Fuck” out my way…before I “Beat” you within an “Inch” of your life…”

The man in black not impressed responded, “I know who you are Special Agent Armitage, you and your teams’ services are no longer needed here.”

“And who the hell are you?” Dustin chimed in backing his partner up.

The man in black pulled out his credentials identifying himself, “Special Agent Stanley Slater.”

Mercer eyed along with Armitage the shiny chrome black and silver badge with Slater’s ID that identified him as a Special Agent of the United States Government. It however did not identify his division or branch.

“Never heard of you “Special Agent Slater,” Mark narrowed his eyes.

To which Agent Slater responded, “And you never will; all you have to know is my division and credentials trump yours as far as this case is concern. Now I will say it again, you and your team are officially relieved of duty.”

Mark sarcastically scratched his chin as he gestured to Dustin who looked ready to pounce on Agent Slater. He then wagged his finger asking his friend a question, “What was that cool line from that crazy robot movie we watched at your house with your kids before the boxing match on cable last month?”

“You mean the one where the robots change into stuff while hanging out with the little half Jewish kid?” Dustin returned building on Mark’s skit.

“Yeah,” Mark snapped his fingers, “When the solider put his gun in the face of the doofus with the Superman looking shirt and the Aloha draws and said, “We don’t take orders from people that don’t exist”.

“Yeah that’s right,” Dustin smiled then turned to Agent Slater now grilling him, “We don’t take orders from assholes that don’t exist.”

“Is there a problem Agent Slater?” The question came from the man in the grey suit standing in the middle of the lethal injection room stopping the ensuing brawl that appeared to about to take place between Armitage, Mercer, and the muscle in black.

Armitage pushed pass Slater to confront his apparent boss, as Agent Slater continued to have a stare down match with Mercer who was only an inch shorter than he was and ready to go.

“Yeah, you can say there’s a problem”, Mark fired at the man in grey, “This is an official F.B.I investigation not M.I.B…so what the hell are you doing in my crime scene?”

The man in the grey suit finally introduced himself to Armitage who did not really care at this point, “Director Arthur Rosen…I am here running my own investigation with my team.”

“Who is your “team”? What department do you come from?” Mark demanded to know.

“Unfortunately I cannot divulge that to you Agent Armitage,” Director Rosen said with a half apologetic tone, “What I can tell you is that my department is better equipped to handle this situation than you are. So you should just stand down and allow us to work.”

“What situation may that be?” Mark pretended to be stupid to what was going on.

“No need for cynicism Agent Armitage,” Director Rosen smirked, “You know very well what the situation is…”

Mark moved closer to the Director giving him his trademark fear of God look, “This is what I do know, you fly in here on your fancy helicopter outside, with your “team” and your Jason Bourne reject over there impeding in a Federal Bureau investigation and contaminating my crime scene. You flash a badge I’ve never seen before along with a suspect title, and you refuse to tell me what department or organization within our United States Government you claim you hail from so I can check your so-called credentials. That gives me probable cause to arrest you, your whole party, and throw you into a deep dark cell until you do decide to tell me or until I can verify if you’re bullshitting me or not.”

Director Rosen openly laughed at Armitage’s attempt to intimidate him, “I can assure you that won’t happen.”

“You think not?” Mark advanced forward again with the intention of yoking the good Director up in his high priced suit, and slap some cuffs on him to prove who was really in charge when his ear caught the sound of a firearm drawn from a leather holster. Part of him thought he would actually see something shiny and high tech like from out of the movies. Instead, Agent Slater, who had drawn on him, held in his hand a standard issued Glock 23 sidearm with laser sighting pointed at the side of his head.

A now livid Mercer stunned that Agent Slater would have the gall to attempt such a thing pulled out his side arm four seconds later pointing it at the Agent’s head. Agent Slater however does not flinch from the apparent threat to his life.

“Drop it asshole! Drop it now!” Dustin barked forcing his agents along with the agents who accompanied Director Rosen as well as local authorities who were in the vicinity to go for their service weapons.

Armitage had been in some messed up situations, but this was clearly insanity on top of insanity, any second he thought he was going to wake up from a very bad dream, except he kept catching a whiff of the Director’s early morning coffee breath which meant this was really happening.

“That also is not going to happen Agent Mercer,” Director Rosen responded.

“Instead what’s going to happen is Agent Slater is going to shoot and kill your partner and friend of twenty-four years while you who haven’t fired your service fire arm in ten years watch. He will then probably kill you despite your current “advantage” on him, and anyone else who happens to draw on him till finally I give the order for him to stop,” Director Rosen continued to explain, “We will then most likely be arrested by whoever is still alive on your team, or the local authority present. We’ll probably spend no more than three hours in a holding cell before released with no charges, while you and your partner share toe tags in the county morgue. Your family, friends, and associates will mourn and bury you, and nothing else further will come of this incident. Or Agent Slater kills your partner, you kill him, arrest me, I still spend three hours in a cell, and you get to watch me released with no charges brought against me, while your partner here lies in the morgue with a toe tag.”

The Director then proposed another option as he stared down Armitage, “The other alternative is you lower your weapon, we take what we came for, leave, and in a couple of hours you will receive a phone call from your Executive Assistant Director Douglas Edward King, who will tell you he just received a call from his boss. Telling him, he received a call from higher authorities within our government ordering you to neither engage nor interfere with us ever again. In either scenario I just presented I will be proven correct, you decide which one plays out.”

“How about the scenario where I blow your goddamn head off after killing this son of a bitch?” bit back Dustin.

“Interesting scenario,” confirmed the Director, “But in that one your partner is still dead…can you live with that? And if you’re thinking of just shooting Agent Slater outright and dealing with the consequences later…please remember there is a gun also pointed at
your
head.”

Mercer was reminded by the clicking sound of a Sig Sauer P226‘s hammer cocked back by a female agent on Director Rosen’s team. She held it steadily trained at his head from behind. Two more of the Director’s agents covered her in a standoff with two of Armitage and Mercer’s agents along with a couple of Gatesville’s finest in the hallway. Checkmate all around in the Director’s favor.

In all of the commotion, the short Santa looking man now in a white forensics lab coat with his three-person team appeared huddle together with nervous looks on their faces as it was apparent they were in the middle of a Mexican stand-off.

He swallowed hard as he announced with his thick German accent, “We have acquired the samples…”

“Thank you Doctor,” acknowledged the Director as he now gave Mark the “your move” look.

Armitage locked eyes with Mercer communicating that despite they were the designated law and order in the vicinity, it was best to fight another day. Armitage had no fear of a gun pointed at him, but Dustin had a family. Although Dustin also did not give a damn either about getting into a fight, testing the arrogant son of bitch’s prophesy was not worth agent blood, especially his friend, and even though he did not show it, the fact that he knew so much about them unnerved Mark.

“Stand down everyone…stand down,” Dustin motioned to the other agents under him as everyone slowly lowered their weapons except for Agent Slater and his agents who continued to keep their guns raised; Mercer kept his finger on the trigger ready to go despite the gun pointed at the back of his head.

“Please know Special Agent it was not my intention to undermine your investigation,” said the Director giving a somewhat sincere apology, “But due to this being an extremely time sensitive matter you left me with very little choice.”

“Who the hell are you?” Mark still demanded to know.

“I’m just like you Special Agent, the good guy,” smiled the Director, “You must have seen the footage already…look around you. This woman is extremely dangerous and you are not equipped to deal with her. I am. She’s my problem now. My advice to you is to finish your investigation here, file your report, and walk away from this case, for your own sake.”

The Director does not wait for Armitage to tell him to go screw himself as he walked away followed by the doctor who accompanied him and his technicians. Agent Slater waited for the Director to leave the vicinity before him and the agents under his command move in unison creating a protective perimeter around the Director and everyone with them heading all the way to the elevator. Armitage and Mercer forgetting they had guns pointed at them walked out to the hallway with their agents to watch them depart.

“Gentlemen.” Agent Slater finally lowered his gun along with the rest of his agents, bidding farewell as the elevator door shut.

Armitage and Mercer headed to the nearest window with a view of the courtyard to see the Director and his party heading to the helicopter they had traveled in.

Dustin turned to Mark and asked the obvious question: “What the fuck just happened?!”

“We just got punked.” Mark muttered trying to quell the rage building within so that he could think straight once again.

“Did we really just let them walk out of here?” returned a dumbfounded Dustin.

“This place has seen enough mayhem for one day. Something in my gut is also telling me as much as that piece of shit down there is a grade “A” asshole…he’s no bullshit artist. The doctor said they got the samples they needed,” Mark quickly contemplated getting back into his thinking mode, “They just came for the blood. Get the team back in there now, scour this place from top to bottom…blood, skin, hair samples if you can find it I want it…all of it. Call the Houston office; we’re setting up camp there. Grab all of the footage. We’re starting the interviews ASAP. I also want to know who Director Rosen and Agent Slater are by the time I walk out of here. No one points a gun in my face and gets away with it.”

CHAPTER THREE

She appeared to be running until the breath ran out of her, except she was not losing wind. Her bare footsteps sounded like that of a wild stallion charging across the open plain. Part of her screamed for her to stop realizing how fast she was actually moving, that what she was doing, what she had been doing was inhuman and unnatural. By right medically speaking, her heart should have popped several hundred miles ago, and her leg muscles should have torn off her bones, but the exact opposite was happening. Here she was clocking speeds of almost seventy possibly eighty miles an hour and she had a heart beat as if she was taking a leisure walk while her muscles did not even cramp.

Fear was the rider that kept her moving; images of what just happened at Mountain View flashed before her eyes forcing her to move faster and faster. She had to get as far as her legs could carry her so that she could sort out what was happening. What she did not realize was at her current speed she had gone extremely far. Her tattered, bloodied, bullet riddled clothes felt like they were going to be tear from her body at the speed she was going. It was then that things also got blurry, superhuman speed did not translate to superhuman eyesight, which would allow her to see in order to maneuver at such break neck speeds as she charged right into a wooden area.

Logic would dictate stopping at this point, but Sophia trying her best to maneuver around the trees was not even sure she knew how to stop, not that she really needed to clipping and smashing through any and everything getting in her path.

“Oh Shit!” Sophia yelled.

The mammoth oak tree had probably a century on it within those woods; its trunk was clearly six times the width of Sophia’s body. Age would give it the strength and density close to steel making it strong enough to stop anything made of fiberglass and even some things made of pure steel itself. Sophia barreling through obliterated a huge portion of the trunk on impact sending chunks and splinters flying everywhere, she would have been fine if she did not trip over what was left of the trunk sending her into an awkward roll tumbling down an embankment destroying any and everything in her path whether it be wood or stone. What was left of the tree could not support its weight any longer, as it burst in half and fell to Earth with a ground-shaking thud.

Sophia screamed and cursed as she tumbled down the steep embankment falling in ways that should have snapped her neck or split her skull open. She would scream again as she would be flung off a cliff to the bottom of the embankment falling a good fifty feet hitting the river down below hard like a two ton Mack truck.