The President sat on his Oval Office throne, fingers tapping the desk as his subordinate stared at him with reverence. His voice was deep and brooding as he spoke.
"What are your thoughts on the report, Jonathan?"
The man, dressed in a suit and tie with a chiselled jaw, frowned. He seemed deep in thought before giving his opinion.
"It sounds... unreliable." He distrustfully said, "Despite the Invincibles and your holy self, I still don't quite believe what it communicated. Although the need for a cure for Volta Decay gives it some legitimacy, they're desperate."
The Lord hummed, "I looked into the location it gives; the place is covered by a veil of darkness. The British insects are hiding something. I have thought of a solution, but I would like to enquire about yours."
"I would never question you." Jonathan scoffed, "I-"
"Jonathan... how many times? I ask; you answer, do not play the awed and reverent character. I have told you my dislike of sycophants."
"S-Sorry, my Lord." He coughed, "I- I would send the Seals, maybe a CIA Black Team? If the report is true, then... things will change; massively. Britain's affairs will take priority over Mexico and SA."
"You think they would suffice? To be unknown and untraceable, no solid evidence linking to us?"
"A- Hmm, no, forgive me. I would make it an open and closed incident, one they can only forget. However, I admit, either of my two options would leave a trail."
"Indeed-"
There was a pause, Jonathan's Messiah silent as the giant's eyes flickered and dimmed. Jonathan frowned, concern taking root in his heart and growing, starting to encapsulate it. His worries were for nothing, the President's purple eyes turning vivid again, sharp and edged.
"We want to make a statement!" The President boomed, "Normal mortals will not cut it. No, no. We dispatch the Void Corps. An Invincible, too."
"W- My Lord? Is that necessary? Does it not expose too much? If... If they link it back to us, countermeasures could be created."
"It does not matter, Jonathan; has Britain not already made a countermeasure? The Black Guard? No... there is something... in there. The location given; the report was correct. I can hear it like a whisper. They are hiding a secret from us!" His fist pounded the desk, splintering it, "Insignificant mongrels! Zackary is too ambitious! Pathetic insects!"
"Your orders, Sir?" Jonathan stated, "I believe we should punish them with righteous fury. Our isolation has made them see us as weak, My Lord."
"You have learned, Jonathan. We use this as a distraction to stop any nosy... bugs from interrupting our FTL test. But we are in dire need of discovering what they are hiding. It is an anomaly, something not even I can understand. Not yet. Make contact with Secundo, and put our plans into action."
"It will be done, My Lord." Jonathan bowed.
Turning around with a frown seared onto his expression, he exited. He had never seen his Messiah confused or not able to comprehend something; someone who was able to unite America and rule it.
'It must be something... dangerous. But with the Messiah on our side, we cannot lose!'
Removing himself from the White House, he entered a readied aircraft coursed for the Pentagon. He sighed, expecting to be recommended for the Rites. Nevertheless, he called the number. The other side picked up, a male voice coming through.
"If it isn't Jonathan. I presume the Messiah has commanded?" He uttered.
"It has been a while, Secundo." Jonathan exhaled, "But no time for... pleasantries. Pick an Invincible and fifty of the Void Corps; you have a mission."
"Your plan or the Messiah's?"
"Does it matter? Follow orders. Watford Military Base, tonight. Do as you will, but make a show; there should be something there, a person or information. Eliminate or retrieve it."
"Hmm, if the Lord has commanded, I will obey." The other side lingered, "Consider the Rite, Jonathan. It is... strange that a mortal such as yourself serves so close to the Messiah."
"Yeah... I'll think about it."
Jonathan cut the call, watching Washington D.C. from above as the engines roared like a lion.
'The Rites, hmm? Failure equalling death; the slim chance... immortality.'
He pondered the chances, the probability of survival only rising due to willpower. Did he have enough? It would be a most unceremonious demise if he did not; forgotten and set ablaze, secrets never uncovered, and their body erased.
Did he want to be forgotten? Burned and buried into the sea? One day, he would have to decide, and perhaps only his Messiah, the almighty, could determine if he lived or died.
***
"Sorry, Jenny." Mark whispered, "I- It just kind of... happened subconsciously.
Jenny sat in her office chair, the two of them the sole people present. She rubbed her chin before moving her hand to massage her temples.
"So... it just happened?" She sighed, "Mark, you need to understand that people are afraid of you. You may not like it, but unfortunately, that is your reality now. You blew a hole through the ceiling; flew kilometres into the stratosphere and kilometres from the base before landing. In full view of everyone. Ugh..."
"Well... yeah, sorry. But, you let them all know about me, right? You sent a memo or something?" He sheepishly replied, rubbing his neck.
"Well, yes, I did. But that-" Jenny halted, brows furrowed and eyes sharp, "How do you know that, Mark?"
Mark rubbed the back of his neck aggressively, eyes flitting from one side of the room to the other.
Averting his eyes, "Erm... I..."
"It's your hearing, isn't it?" She shook her head, "Look, Mark. You are right to keep secrets, but you have to understand that we are only trying to help. If you need, only tell me; but someone needs to know what you're capable of, not only for other's safety but your own."
"Sorry." He mumbled, "I'm just... confused. Besides having powers and their uses, I know nothing about how I got them."
"I know. I know. Things are hard for you, and they will only get harder. But, once you push through these harsh times, things will get easier. From my point of view, no one could stop you besides a nuke. Your limits are unknown; you can do anything. Go to Barbados or Brazil, Colombia and South Africa. The world is your oyster."
He chuckled, "You shouldn't give me any ideas. Maybe I'll run away. As a disclaimer, that is a joke."
Jenny laughed, "I'm glad that it is, Mark. Now the serious business is finished, I have some good news to share. I sent an email last night to the Secretary of Defence; I've gotten permission for a phone or electronic for you. No communication, but I don't know; you can watch a movie or something."
"Oh, thanks, Jenny. I... appreciate that; I really do."
The woman had a friendly smile as the door was knocked a single time, the noise reverberating through the small room. She rolled her eyes.
"Barak. Only knocks once." Jenny uttered to Mark, increasing her volume to the door, "Get in, Barak."
The door opened, the man outfitted in his typical suit and shades, his tie now grey instead of black.
"You could have asked politely." He grumbled, "Anyways, I got news for the kid from the Cabinet. The PM has put me as the point of contact; anything regarding Mark goes through me, understood?"
"Yeah, sure, Mr Servitor." Jenny spoke.
Barak scowled at her, eyes narrowed at the name. He huffed before continuing.
"I don't appreciate the derogatory nickname, Jenny. You know why I joined. Mark, I have some... depending on how you see it, good information and bad information."
Mark adjusted his eyes, able to peer through the transparent glass covering the bald white man's own. He thought he saw slight pity and... remorse? However, it was gone in a flash.
It was strange being able to see through tinted glass; either way, he appreciated the usefulness of the subtle ability. Alongside it, whilst he was flying above, able to see the humans like ants, he realised he could zoom in. Similar to a hawk or an eagle in some respects.
"Let's hear it, then. Might as well get it over and done with." Mark stated.
"The autopsy finished last night." The mood dropped like a bomb, "They are to be buried in five days. You can make your peace with them there. You'll... not be able to speak to anyone. Strict orders from above. I think they're pretty paranoid right now."
Barak spoke slightly solemn, quietening as he went on, his body tense and wary of any foolish moves. Yet, Mark did nothing as he stood there, tears welling in his eyes.
"You'll be fine, Mark." Jenny gently eased, "We'll try to allow you to speak to friends and relatives. Some alone time at the grave should also be fine. Sorry for your loss."
The woman smiled sadly, rubbing his shoulder as she glanced at Barak, an order given within her eyes. He put his hand through his hairless head before reluctantly nodding.
Water plunged to the floor, falling like the rain outside as it tapped on the windows. He had been putting it off, hoping to not need to face them. But he had to; he knew he did. Mark needed to say sorry and express his final goodbyes, the brutal reality returning to him.
"I- I'm fine." Mark uttered, "I'd appreciate that, Jenny. I want some time with them; I have some things I want to say." His voice turned firm, "I don't want any spying or listening. Just me and them. No one else."
Barak stood off to the side, skittish and lightly flinched at the change of tone. His hand dangerously hovered around his waist whilst Jenny stayed nearby Mark, comforting him.
"That's fine, I would think?" Jenny suggested, sending another glance towards Barak.
"I'll get it done." Barak said, leaving the room.
Jenny ruffled Mark's short hair with a smile, reminiscing about her family and the things she had experienced. Despite his brave facade and seemingly uncaring attitude, she knew that trauma could hide deep beneath the skin, waiting to erupt at an inopportune time. There would be nothing more terrifying than a living weapon that had lost control.
***
Barak walked down the hallway, his expression tired and deflated. His interactions with Jenny had brought back old memories, repressed memories, that he would rather forget. He had a new goal now; Mark was a new candidate in his mind, and Jenny... could be a problem.
Arriving at a control room, he ordered a technician to put the Defence Secretary on screen. It appeared as a floating, ten-metre-long display with the Defence Secretary, Naya, answering seconds later.
"Oh? Agent Jah?" She questioned, "Do I presume Mark has some requests, then? That was... rather quick."
"Yes, Ma'am." Barak said, "His mental state seems relatively stable, for the moment. The funeral could be a turning point, so I would advise you to at least ponder his adjustments."
"Adjustments... so what does our new asset demand? Freedom?"
"No, not at all, surprisingly." Barak shrugged, "He wants privacy during the funeral, to be allowed to talk to friends and relatives and have a solitary moment to say his peace."
She huffed, speaking with sarcasm, "Not much then?"
"Jenny... Commander Mackay agrees with him, also, that he deserves it per human rights and a show of our hospitality."
"Do you?" Naya inquired.
"I... I believe they are reasonable."
"An answer, Barak. It is not a difficult question."
He sighed, already knowing the rough guideline of how she will criticise his words.
"I agree with her. I agree with the boy."
She snorted, "You aren't... sympathising with the asset, are you, Agent Jah? Please do not forget; he is our asset. Not yours or Commander Mackay's. Remember that."
He nodded slowly, keeping his surging annoyance and emotions in check.
"Is that all, then? Those three requests?" Naya asked.
"Yes, Ma'am. He seemed firm on these points, particularly the first and third. So no operatives, spying or listening etcetera. After seeing first-hand what he can do, I... would recommend obliging, Ma'am."
"Hmm, you have put me in a tricky situation, Agent Jah. Whilst I would like to keep our asset away from outside influences, I suppose I must relent some." She paused, "Hmm, I can accept the first and third. Friends and relatives are too... influencing. That would be the primary way confidential information would leak."
Barak went to argue, his mind reflecting what he saw at the lab before closing his gob.
"That should be fine, Madam Defence Secretary. Thank you."
"I'll make the necessary changes to our preparations, then. Keep the asset on a short lease, Agent Jah. He is a weapon; treat him as such."
He indicated to the Black Guard technician to turn off the large, floating screen. However, Naya's voice rang out, the soldier pausing as Barak glanced up.
"Before you go, Barak." A bewitching smile on screen, "Beware the kid. Vile evil can hide in the most unlikely of places. Be careful placing your trust in him. Power tends to corrupt. His power... will corrupt absolutely. Watch your back."
The Defence Secretary cut the communication line, leaving the room echoing with creepy, antagonizing words.
Barak stood there, silent and thoughtful. He doubted what she said, the kid seeming far too good-natured and innocent to go down a path like his. He could say it was ironic coming from her, a once charismatic and popular politician, now tainted in scandal and ambition. Yet, her words held truth, perhaps more so because she had been corrupted by a similar thing. It niggled at the back of his mind, her words replaying in his subconscious: Beware.