The Break (The Aesir Saga Book 1) (17 page)

                     Williams made the turn down the long corridor toward his father's office. That was one of the things that he hated about the capital. The buildings were laid out over a huge complex. Each building was only one story, but they were all connected by a series of hallways, much like a war hospital. That way if there was an attack on any building, it didn't destroy too much with it. 

              The other thing he hated was the clinging to the old. With the destruction of the old capital, the NGC had gone about collecting and rescuing everything they could from its wreckage. As he passed a portrait of George Washington, he couldn't help but feel like it was trying too hard. These relics were put up to justify and legitimize the NGC, trying to prove some connection between them and the government of old. But instead, at least for Williams, it looked more like wearing another man's suit, covering themselves in the clothes of the dead. 

              Nearing his father’s office, Williams was greeted by the Tyler. This man was put in charge of the security of the area. Each NGC council member had one. It was another nod to the previous government, their version of the Secret Service. The Tyler was armed with .45 semiautomatic handgun on his right leg, and a 7.62 assault rifle slung across his back. As Williams neared, the Tyler brought his hand to the handle of his .45, resting it there as he moved his other hand in the direction of the terminal fixed in the wall. 

              Williams placed his hand on the screen, knowing that he had an appointment with his father, he wasn't worried about the scanner. When the friendly ding and green light came from the screen, the Tyler relaxed his stance, opening the door for Williams and closing it behind him.

              The inner office was rounded, with two leather couches on either side of the walkway. One wall was covered in a bookshelf, the collection ranging from fiction to non-fiction. The purpose of the collection was unknown, and there was no theme. Williams the elder was known to collect things form his childhood, so more than likely these were books he had read himself. The right wall kept up the preservation of the old government relics. A large painting of John F. Kennedy made up the majority of the meager decoration. With his arms crossed and head tilted down, the picture gave off the look of contemplation. 

              Williams crossed the room, stopping to stand in front of the plain brown door. He knew there was a camera looking at him right now, facial recognition software trying to match his image to the approved visitor list. The metallic sound of the door unlocking told him the match had been made. 

              Opening the door, Williams stepped into the office of the Knight Grand Officer. The walls of this room were much different from the rest of the building Williams had walked through. They were empty, with no decorations to break up the plainness they gave off. Besides the desk and two guest leather high backed chairs, only a grandfather clock stood in the corner of the room. The desk itself was large, spanning seven feet from one side to the other. Its top was neatly organized, something Williams had picked up from his father, with only a lamp and computer screen filling the emptiness of it. The only other light came from two large widows on the back wall, their curtains open, but the light still insufficient to give the room a cozy feeling. 

Seated at the desk was Nicolas Williams, the gray haired council member who Williams had strived to impress. The graying had spread to his beard, with only a few areas maintaining their brown color. He sat with his arms on top of his desk, hands steepled, the stoic look on his face that Williams had seen his whole life. 

"Hello son, I understand you have some important questions for me." Nicolas tilted his head toward one of the high backed chairs. 

              Williams sat, crossing one leg over the other and placing his hands on his knee. "I do. I recently found out about the Aesir virus."

              The silence that followed was intimidating for Williams. He had shown his hand right off the bat, hoping to get something out of his father, but the man just sat there, unmoving. Finally Nicolas said something to break the silence. "That was not a question."

Williams smiled a little, happy that his father was at least entertaining the idea of talking about it. 

"I want to know why the NGC is synthesizing Aesir powers."

"Well, that’s a complicated question." Williams the elder reached down and opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He filled them both half way, then rose to pass one to his son. 

Williams took the glass and brought it to his mouth, taking a small sip before placing it in his lap. 

"Why is the NGC using the Aesir virus to fight outside the country?"

"That I can answer." Nicolas took a sip from his drink. "With the rise in Aesir throughout the country, the SI9 were created to capture them for containment purposes. During the testing of how their powers developed, we came to understand and eventually mimic their abilities. I'm sure you know how that works, otherwise you never would have come here to ask. Now, With the SI9 keeping the interior of the country safe, we needed a way to protect ourselves from outside threats."

"I thought the NGC adopted a strategy of isolationism when it came to the outside world?"                Nicolas took another sip. "That is what we told the people, because it is what will make them happy. We both know that isolationism doesn't work, but the normal person doesn't know that, and the idea makes them happy."

"So then what do you do with the Aesir virus?"

"There is a strike team, and their purpose is to be the actionable wing of the NGC throughout the world. When the team members are retired, we recruit new ones."

              The answers Williams was getting weren't exactly the ones he was looking for. But this was how his father had been his whole life, leaving clues in his words to make Williams think. "So what kind of things are actionable by this strike team?"

"Anything the NGC sees as a threat. Terrorist camps, foreign governments, anything outside the country."

"So you just send out these strike teams, without anyone outside the council knowing about them, to pursue the council's ends?"

"Yes."

              Williams flew up from his chair, his anger was getting the best of him, but he didn't care. How could his father be involved in something like this? "What gives you the right to make these strikes? You think that you're somehow above reproach?"

              Nicolas didn't react at all to the tone of Williams' voice. He sat, the same expression and tone he had worn through their entire talk. "We do it for the good of the people."

Williams set his drink on the edge of the desk. "That’s a slippery slope. First it’s, we do this without them knowing to help them. Then you do more without their knowledge, till eventually you think that you don't have to explain anything you do to them."

              Nicolas took one last sip from his glass, finishing it, before placing it on the desk. Then he stood, and looked at his son. "A wise man named Chomsky once said something that I think applies to this situation. The general population doesn't know what’s happening, and it doesn’t even know that it doesn't know. As long as this remains the status quo, I see no problem with continuing our actions."

              Williams didn't say a word, instead turning to walk out the door. His father didn't try to stop him, and he was thankful for that. He needed time to think.  

              They sat in the car, staring at the large square building. It stood in the middle of a business district that had long since been abandoned. It looked like every other building around them, and was definitely not the place you would find anything, let alone some of the most secret information in the country. 

              Except for one thing. When they had pulled up, Gabriel was quick to dismiss this as false information, possibly Ma'at trading pieces again. But then he saw it. Next to an old beat up side door, there was a key pad. None of the other buildings had anything close to that level of security. Some had their doors hanging open, blowing in the wind. But not this one. If you counted out its peeling paint, it was perfectly maintained. Not one window was broken, and every door was closed. 

              Gabriel opened his door, stepping out of the car. Looking around for anything that could give them away he noticed there were no cameras. Brock was already moving to the building, and when Gabriel caught up, they were standing at the key pad door. Just in case, Gabriel pulled the handle, but it didn't move. 

"Worth a shot I guess." Gabriel then turned his attention to the key pad. Some of the numbers showed a more obvious wear than the others. If he took those into account, it was a five digit code. Before he could try and figure out how many combinations of numbers that was, a creaking sound could be heard from the door. 

As Gabriel turned back to see what made the noise, the creek turned into a large crack, as Brock pulled the door from its frame, leaving them a clear path in. 

Gabriel laughed, “Well that just got a lot easier.”

Stepping into the warehouse, Gabriel had to wait a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darker inside. They had come into a hallway, with three doors on the wall in front of them, and one at the far end. They looked in the three closest door, finding that they were small dorm style rooms, each one showing signs of being lived in. They noticed the inside doors were unlocked as they moved to the end of the hallway, trying to remain as silent as possible. As Gabriel opened this door, music could be heard on the other side, along with the sounds of movement. Sticking his head in, he could see the rest of the room. Inside were two desks, each with a computer. Gabriel could see a man sitting at one of the desks, his head down, busy with something in his hands. Gabriel eased himself back into the hallway with Brock. 

"I can see one guy at a desk. Let’s creep in, you grab him and hold him, I’ll question him. We get the info and we get out." He whispered. 

Brock nodded, and Gabriel opened the door slowly. As they walked into the room Gabriel threw his hood over his head, feeling that it somehow made him sneakier. 

As they moved closer Gabriel was ready to snap a fireball if the guy turned around and saw them, but his attention was complexly on the object in his hands. Brock was able to move right behind him. Gabriel held up three fingers, then started counting down, to one. On one, Brock grabbed the guy, pulling him onto his feet and holding his arms tight against his body. 

"What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?"

"Shut up.” Gabriel said, stepping in front of their prisoner. “I'm going to ask some questions and then you are going to give me answers. Where are they?"

              The man squirmed in Brock's grasp, but could move out of it. "What? Where are who? You're going to have to be more specific than that. Where are they, like I know who the fuck you're talking about?"

              Gabriel pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows, igniting his hands when he was done. "Just couldn't do it the easy way." 

"Whoa whoa whoa. You’re him, you're the one we've been looking for!" The man’s tone changed once he saw Gabriel’s arms light up. 

"Yeah, I know you've been hunting me. A few days ago you got some of my friends in your little trap. I want them back. Someone told me you know where they are."

"Oh yeah, like I'm just going to give that info to you. Sure no problem, want me to make you a sandwich too?"

Gabriel held up one finger, looking at it before extending his hand and pressing it into the man’s chest. He held it there for only a few seconds, but the man’s cries of pain continued long after he had stopped.

“Where are they?”

“I bet if we hid them up your ass you’d know.”

Gabriel returned the flaming finger to the man’s body, pressing it this time into his shoulder. “I just want to know where they are. You are bringing this upon yourself.”

                                          When he had caught his breath the man looked up to Brock. “Is he always this much of a bitch?”

              Gabriel reacted without thinking, his anger jumping out of him, he grabbed the man’s hand, holding onto it for a few seconds as the fire began charring the skin. 

              The scream rang out through the whole building. If anyone else was here, they would find out soon. Gabriel let go, bringing himself back into what he was doing. The man's right hand was completely black and unmoving. 

"Now tell me where I can find the friends you took."

Tears streamed down the man’s face, his breath coming fast and shallow. 

"We didn't take your friend’s anywhere. They are still at the storage building."

              Gabriel looked up at Brock, who just nodded his head. "How many of you are there?"

              The man said nothing, which caused

Gabriel to press his hand into the man’s chest, holding it there for only a few seconds before pulling it back. "I said how many of you are there!"

              The pain on his face was obvious as he choked out the answer. "There are three, me and two others."

"What about the robot?"

The man slumped his head down "There is a pilot inside that controls it."

"I don't know why you make me hurt you. If you would just answer my questions you wouldn't have to be in so much pain."

              The man looked up at Gabriel, then spit at him. "I don't know how you could do this to someone like you."

"What do you mean like me? You’re telling me you have a power?"

              The man just nodded his head. Gabriel swung, striking with his right hand, followed quickly by his left. His left hand extinguished, grabbing the man by the hair and pulling his head up so he could look at him in the face. "You dare spit at me and ask me how I can do this to someone like me? Look at you asshole, you hunt down your own people." He let the man's head drop. 

              Gabriel looked up at Brock, who just shrugged his shoulders. "You know we can’t leave him alive. He knows where we are going. If the other two find him before we make it there, this will never work."

              Brock closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

"I don't like it either, but do you want to get Olivia back?" Gabriel waited for a response from Brock, but when the big guy didn't move, Gabriel took that as his answer. 

"Listen, I'll do it. I know how you feel about killing people."

              The man's head jerked up, "I fucking dare you, I just wish I could be there when Marcus rips your limbs from your body. You and your friends are just worthless Spartan trash."

              Before he could even process what was being said, Gabriel's flaming hand flew up, his palm planted in the center of the man's face, and he could feel himself pushing in. The screams were short, and soon the man was slumped in Brock's hands. Gabriel pulled back, some skin sticking to his palm. The damage to the man's face was unnerving. The eyeballs had burst and run down the face. Where his hand had been was a black handprint. Angry red skin outlined the burn, with pus filled welts scattered around its edge.  

              Brock set down the lifeless body, standing next to Gabriel as they looked over what they had done. 

"We can't leave this place like this." Knowing that Brock wouldn’t say anything, he snapped two fireballs, throwing one at the desk the man had been working at, and the other against the far wall. The fire began to spread as the left the room, leaving the door open behind them. Before they left the building, Gabriel snapped three more fireball, tossing one into each room. 

              As they got into the car and began driving away, smoke could be seen coming out of the roof of the warehouse. 

Now I have to figure out how to get rid of that mech, Gabriel thought.