Mark stood level with the commanding soldier, lightly flinching for an uncontained trigger finger.
"Come this way; we'll escort you." The soldier urged, "A transport is outside; we are under a limited time constraint, so we need to hurry. Are you... ok with this?"
A nervousness took hold of him as he asked, a niggling feeling that something was wrong with the young man. It was vague and incomprehensible, but something was there.
"That's... fine." Mark said, eyes roaming for identification.
"Lieutenant Elliot Heath."
"Lieutenant... thank you."
The Scotsman guffawed as he guided Mark out of the room, shaking his head. The group held their rifles in a Low Ready position, prepping for anything that may turn up.
"Thank you? What for? We are just doing our job, lad."
Mark shivered, "For not shooting me. I can hear your... heartbeats, the way you breathe, the panic. I can sense it... I scare you like a monster."
They entered the hallway, moving with haste. However, Mark's words made them frown. It creeped them out, his words and phrases strange, like something from a horror flick.
Elliott Heath paused, before speedily walking, "You... are not a monster. If you did this, then you are not a monster, but you are unique. Special. This was a terrible tragedy, but do not be disheartened; things happen... accidents happen. You just have to learn self-control."
The soldier's hunched shoulders relaxed and sagged as the boy lightly smiled, a shiver of relishing relief rippling over him. They rushed through heavy doors held open by those in front, their faces obscured by futuristic helmets, tinted visors and a creepy black gas mask. It was a strange look, reminding Mark of the clown killers in the nineties, hunting their prey with a smile.
'Who are they?' His mind drifted, 'Are they even... the government? Or an organisation? Either way, perhaps they can aid me in righting the wrongs I have committed in this sanctuary.'
Moving in a semi-jog through long, winding hallways, they reached the exit. Bright rays reflected through the glass, warm and comforting. The exit was held open by carbon-fibre suits of armour, leading to a white-looking outdoors. Sol's light shone on him like a spotlight, the sharp, brutal winter chill barely affecting him as they picked up the pace, the embittered weather intensifying. An aerial transport awaited, propellors spinning as mud flew in a cacophony of blunted thuds.
"This is where we leave you." Huffed the Lieutenant, "I wish you good fortune in what is to come. And remember: Be calm and do not panic. One thing I learned in my profession; panicking is how you die. Good luck!"
The Scotsman knocked the glass; the pilots were alerted to take off as the wind picked up.
Mark faced the well-lit surroundings, looking at the bleak and snowed-in city; the place he once called home. He sadly smiled, one tinged with happiness at memories; of people, he loved who are now beyond. Covering his mouth, he cursed himself for what would now rack his every waking moment. It was all his fault, everything that happened.
But despite his self-blame and guilt, he needed to move forward, like his father had when he was a child. He would redeem himself, work hard to rectify the mistakes of the past, and create a pleasant present. And maybe, one day, he could pass in peace, having done enough to satiate his remorse.
***
A phone rang multiple times; a tired, chubby hand grabbed it and put it to his ear. He sighed before he spoke, annoyed and his mood foul.
"You are late, Naya. I do believe I scheduled a report a few hours ago. The excuse better be reasonable; this matter is of utmost importance."
The other side stuttered, a small groan coming through.
"M- My apologies, Sir. There were... complications. I had to call the Black Guard; it took priority over this report." Naya soothed, her voice sweet.
The Prime Minister grumbled, "Complications, you say? How so? To call the Black Guard, I can only imagine the US is involved..."
He rubbed his eyes, already frowning at the incoming storm of their involvement. He followed it with a groan as his aide spoke.
"Well, they're... complicated, Sir." She chuckled nervously, "At roughly two in the afternoon, an... other-worldly beam... struck from within the hospital. It was red and emitted heat, so... a laser, Sir."
"Naya, do you take me for a fool?" Zack snapped, "I want facts, not fallacies and stupid hallucinations."
"Well, it happened, Sir. Those are the facts. Descriptions are imprecise, and witnesses are still shaken from the event. Concretely, we know it ploughed through brick and metal with incredible ease... including civilians. Initial examinations show some of them... exploded."
Zack looked bewildered, sitting up straight, "Am I dreaming? What on Earth are you talking about? Is it some type of weapon? An attack by America? Why are you so vague, Naya!"
"Zack, when have I ever lied to you? I do not have all the answers, America does, but I have what I have. Forty-seven witnesses, and increasing, confirmed the validity of the reports. Mass hysteria is an option, but, to be blunt, the Black Guard retrieved Mark Evans safe and sound. It appears..." She hesitated, "He, may the perpetrator."
The Prime Minister rubbed his brow, humming, "The Americans will be all over this. I... struggle to believe these 'reports', but I trust you. Am I to believe this... occurrence started from him, then?"
"We are not certain. The Black Guard managed to get him out, so he's headed for the Watford Facility. We should get their report within the hour." Naya declared, "I find everything strange, Sir. The US is digging its claws here; it isn't absurd to suggest there may be something nefarious at work. Perhaps a plot? A coup? Or something viler... an experiment?"
"So, it all comes back to the young man, no matter the direction we gaze? If we were to understand him, we may have something to use." Zack's fingers tapped the table, "Ensure the Black Guard is muted; leaks are the primary concern. Watford should be the safest for him, but we must be on guard."
"I'll get right on it. The base should have the equipment and expertise to test him, and the elite security is an added bonus. Fatima should be able to find out what makes him tick." She paused, "Rivalries might flair, but the SAS could reinforce? Your call."
"Do it. Make sure there is a gag order; only the trusted know anything. Make sure there is no conflict; rivalries must not get in the way of Britain's ambition."
"Will do, S-"
"Another thing." Zack interrupted, "Make his stay comfortable. The US will question us, but if we get him on side, we have some leverage against them. If we don't... the old monster is not known for his gentle nature."
"I will personally ensure it; Agent Jah is already being put to task. Do you want the US report now or later?" Naya questioned.
"Make it brief. I'll bring up the Cabinet meeting." Zack said, "Things are now in motion which cannot be undone; we must act quickly and ensure we have the upper hand."
His knee started bobbing up and down, his hand trying to stop it as they moistened. It was no longer just his political career and the upcoming election on the line, but his life now.
"I'll await the email. In regards to the US, honestly, they strong-armed us; our position isn't great, but neither is theirs. They had unique scanners audible throughout the street, so I presume there was some presence in the air or something physical. But they have found nothing. Truthfully, they seem baffled."
"Do they not know?" He mumbled before speaking to Naya, "Leave them to it; it puts us in a better position. Knowledge is power, and we might have more of it. If the boy is uninvolved with them and as... supernatural, as you suggest, this information could put us with the likes of the US, France and China."
"That is... a big ask, Sir." Naya uttered, concerned, "He would need to be an extraordinary asset, but... a human is not a full-blooded weapon. Mark will think, react, and feel. I call those problems."
"A man can be handled as a weapon can be. We need to be ambitious, Naya! Take a risk! If his family are deceased, we use that against him. We need something. The US is feared for a reason, they will not idle away the time."
"I- I agree, Sir. But we cannot be overly ambitious. We cannot be blinded by arrogance. Mark may just be lucky, or a US experiment. We need to understand the gravity of what we are dealing with before we take drastic action."
"Naya, this is why you are the Defence Secretary, and I am the Prime Minister. You have to take the risk! The US will be covert like they are with the cartels in South America. This secret will only last so long, and when they find out, we need to be able to weather the storm."
An exasperated sigh came through the phone, "The choice is yours, Prime Minister. I am with you all the way, as is the nation."
"Ever the sweet talker, Naya." Zack chuckled, "Make the Watford Facility a closed circuit. Discover the boy's secrets and be confrontational with them. If need be, we use the kid directly unless we are being misled. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Prime Minister." Naya stated, "We follow your lead. May God help us."
"May God help us in this time of great uncertainty." He muttered.
***
The blades of the aircraft and the thrust from the engines swept the air in a storm. A suited white man sat opposite and stared at Mark, behind tinted shades, who opened the side door. He jumped off.
"Welcome to your new home, kid. Come."
His voice was cool like a wind breeze, yet, there was a distinct unpleasantness to it as if he looked down on everything. Mark stepped off, his patient dress violently fluttering in the gusts.
He was confronted by a substantial facility, barbed metal fences surrounding it and electrified. It was modern and sleek, outfitted with the same darkened, armed guards like those at the hospital. Except these had no masks or visors, balaclavas covered their lower faces, and grim-steel eyes peered at him.
The walk to the doors was silent and brooding. Should he be feeling dread? Excitement? Anger? Sadness? Perhaps, he shouldn't feel and go with the flow. Either way, he had been taken. If he was to be experimented on, dissected and abused, only he would be to blame. Maybe it would be sufficient compensation for his crimes. Yet, there was only one way to find out. Step through those doors and shoulder on like his dad, his fate uncertain.