Now that they finally have access to the machine, Chad spends every precious second trying to figure out how it works. He circles it several times, pausing now and then to take a closer, more careful look inside the water tank that houses the forcefield mechanism at its center.
"The blue light looks like Cherenkov radiation... but there's no sign of radioactivity," he mutters while he jots down notes, writing rough estimates of what he observes.
"Temperature... around 120°F, maybe 50°C."
Based on what he's seen so far, Chad is 90% sure this machine isn't human-made. Long before modern technology and our current understanding of physics, neither the theories nor the materials needed to build something like this would have existed.
So, his guesses are:
1. The terrorists got their hands on this machine after an alien spaceship crash-landed on their territory.
2. An alien, working with the terrorists to help them conquer humanity, supplied them with these weapons and machines.
3. An alien disguised as a scientist built this machine.
In all his theories, Chad truly believes that aliens are real and that they are behind this. Even though he's excited by his own ideas, he knows they're still just guesses. Deep down, part of him hopes none of them are true.
Because as frightening as a war between the two most powerful human nations is, it's nothing compared to the thought that a civilization far more advanced, powerful, and developed than humanity actually exists.
Chad keeps examining the machine as ordered, all while these thoughts swirl in his mind. Then, as he moves to a different part of the machine, he spots something he hadn't noticed before.
Something terrible. Something that confirms their worst fear.
"Holy... shit... Saiko, I think you should see this."
Saiko follows Chad, steps up beside him, and looks at what Chad is pointing to. He is speechless.
That thing, the reddish cloth fluttering in the night wind, sends a chill through both of them. The deep red background, combined with the bright yellow emblem of a sickle crossed with a hammer, both placed on the upper left corner of the large red flag, about a hundred inches wide.
They recognize it immediately.
Mounted high on a pole, far out of their reach, is the flag of Communism, specifically the flag of the Soviet Union, waving above the Empire State Building in the heart of capitalistic New York City.
"So it's true, they really want to start a war," Chad mutters.
Saiko glances at him. "So what do you think we should do?"
"Since it's midnight, the flag isn't very visible. But once the sun rises, this flag will be seen all over the city. The entire world will be shaken. At that point, war is just one step away."
"What's the final step?" Saiko asks.
"It's us. We're the ones who know what's really happening and who's behind all of this. We know the terrorists are just psychopaths trying to destroy the US by triggering a war that makes the Soviets look responsible.
We have to let the government and the world know the truth. That is... if we make it out of here alive."
Saiko claps his hands.
"I gotta admit, you're incredibly intelligent, Chad."
Chad grins humbly at the compliment: "No, I'm not."
"No, really. You're just being humble. You know, I used to be jealous of you. I thought I was the smartest one, and you were just some nerd who didn't know what you were doing.
You even failed and made more mistakes than I did."
"Wow..." Chad's jaw drops."I didn't know you thought of me like that."
"Yeah, but I guess I was wrong. I used to think you just wanted attention from the teachers and Selena by acting smart. But it turns out, you're simply passionate about what you love, science."
"Okay..." Chad replies, unsure how to react.
"But guess what, Chad? Smart and passionate people aren't like normal people. They have obsessions, dreams, ways of thinking that others find... weird."
He pauses, giving Chad a look.
"Like you and me."
"?" Chad raises an eyebrow.
"For example, when we were being chased by the terrorists and everyone else was panicking, all you could think about was how amazing that new rifle you picked up was. And me... well, I have fantasies about... brutal stuff."
Chad blinked."That's... weird."
Saiko turned away slightly, muttering under his breath.
"Don't worry, Chad. You'll understand soon enough. Sooner or later, you'll realize you've been too naive. You don't know half as much as you think you do... and you're not even aware of the consequences of your own actions."
Chad couldn't quite catch what Saiko said, but he let him talk to himself for a bit. Once Saiko went quiet, neither of them spoke for a while.
"..."
"..."
"OK, this is awkward," Chad finally said.
"Yeah, same," Saiko replied.
"So... about the flag?"
"Well, since it's too far out of reach, I think we should speed up the mission. We should destroy this machine tonight. The explosion will burn the flag to dust."
"Good idea."
While all this is happening, Ben and Roy are searching for a bomb, preferably a timed one, in a dark shed beneath the Empire State Building.
Ben keeps watch, eyes sharp for any terrorists, while Roy focuses on the search to make sure they aren't caught off guard.
"Hurry up, Roy! We don't have time! And why are you writing in your diary now?!"
"I'm not writing a diary! I'm counting and listing their weapons!"
True to his word, Roy is jotting down details about the terrorists' arsenal, how many rifles they've got, handguns of all calibers, broken drones, and even timed bombs.
Yes, Roy has found exactly what they're looking for. He's confident too, because the bombs look almost identical to the C4s from CS:GO.
"But we're here to find a timed bomb!" Ben snaps, getting impatient, even though Roy has already found the bombs, he doesn't grab them and leave just yet. He's convinced the intel he's recording could be valuable for Neil or Chad.
Ben, on the other hand, keeps pestering him, urging Roy to hurry up and finish the job.
"Ugh! Fine! Just give me the backpack!" He finally gives in.
Ben grabs the yellow backpack and slides it across the floor toward Roy. Roy quickly picks up one of the C4s and stuffs it inside.
'I swear, I never want to do this again,' Ben thinks to himself.
Just as they're about to leave, Roy suddenly stops. He should be walking, but instead, he freezes and glances back at Ben.
"Uh, hey Ben… can I ask you a favor?"
Ben raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I'm gonna put my diary inside the backpack. I want you to keep it."
"Okay… how's that a favor?" Ben asked, frowning.
"I'm not done yet. I want you to remember, if something bad ever happens to me, I want you to give Chad my diary and make sure he reads it. Can you do that?"
"..."
Ben froze for a moment, completely thrown off by Roy's request. His face twisted in confusion.
"What the HELL are you talking about?! Why the hell are you saying that?! That's cringe as fuck!"
"UGH! Can't you be serious and professional for at least a second?!"
And just like that, they started arguing.
"This is stupid! What's so important about that diary that you have to die for it?!"
"All I asked was that IF I DIE, CAN YOU GIVE MY GODDAMN DIARY TO CHAD?! CAN'T YOU DO SOMETHING THAT SIMPLE?!"
"IF YOU WANT CHAD TO HAVE YOUR DIARY, THEN HOW ABOUT YOU SURVIVE AND GIVE IT TO HIM YOURSELF?! I'M ALREADY PANICKING JUST BEING HERE AND NOW YOU'RE TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!"
The argument dragged on for a few more heated minutes before either of them calmed down. It was clear Roy was anxious, trying to make sure his diary ended up in safe hands. Meanwhile, Ben was just frustrated and on edge, overwhelmed by the situation and Roy's request.
"Look, Roy, I get it. You want to make sure your diary is in safe hands. But right now, we need to focus on getting out of here alive and finishing our mission."
Roy hesitated, gripping the diary tightly.
"Let's just put it in the backpack for now," Ben continued. "We'll figure out what to do with it later."
"...Fine," Roy sighed. "I guess you're right."
With that settled, Roy turned back to finish his task while Ben kept watch.
"Just hurry up, okay?" Ben muttered, glancing around nervously.
...
...
...
On the roof of a small nearby building, Nick scanned the area with a pair of binoculars, keeping an eye on the terrorists and providing support for the operation from the outside.
"It's been ten minutes since Neil's last contact. We've confirmed they're inside, but I still have a bad feeling about this..." He paused, then glanced to the side. "Hey, kid, what are you—"
Brent, the boy who had chosen to stay with him, was… playing with rocks. Having nothing else to do, he had moved to a corner and was quietly stacking and tossing stones of various sizes, completely absorbed in his own little game.
Nick sighed. "Hiding in a corner, huh? Well… I guess that's normal." Deciding to ignore Brent, he turned his focus back to his binoculars.
…
THUD!!
All of a sudden, a sharp, splitting pain shot through Nick's skull. His vision blurred, and dizziness overwhelmed him. A moment ago, he had felt the brutal impact of something heavy crashing against his head.
It didn't take long to piece it together. Someone had hit him. Hard. And there was only one person who could have done it—the only other person who had been with him this entire time.
Brent.
"Kid… What the hell are you thinking?!" Nick gasped, his voice weak from the shock.
Brent stood over him, gripping a jagged rock, its edge smeared with fresh blood. Turns out, he hadn't been aimlessly playing with rocks—he had been searching for the perfect one to commit his betrayal.
"This plan is going to fail," Brent muttered, his tone cold and matter-of-fact. "And I'm not here to die for your dumb shit."
Nick's body refused to respond. His limbs felt like lead, his thoughts sluggish from the blow. The blood trickling down his face felt strangely warm against the night air.
"But if you do this… you're going to die too…" he managed to say.
Brent smirked, his once harmless demeanor now replaced with something else—something far more dangerous. For the first time, Nick saw Brent not as a kid, not as dead weight tagging along, but as something else entirely.
And he was powerless to stop him.
"No. Only you."
Nick's eyes widened. "FUCK—"
Before he could react, Brent swung the rock again. The impact was brutal. A dull, sickening thud echoed through the rooftop as Nick crumpled to the ground.
Brent exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off any lingering hesitation. Then, he crouched down, searching through Nick's pockets with steady hands. He knew exactly what he was looking for.
After a few seconds, he found it—a walkie-talkie. A smirk crept onto his face as he turned the device on, pressing a few buttons to establish a connection. The faint crackle of static confirmed that someone was listening on the other end.
Bringing the walkie-talkie to his mouth, Brent spoke, his voice calm and steady: "Hello? To anyone on the other side listening... I have something for you."