River Creek, Astron City, UAC
***
Lance floored the accelerator pedal with the bottle of vodka in the passenger seat. The engine conquered the highest revolution beyond its safe capacity. It swerved and cut traffic between a stream of city cars even though the streetlights were blurry.
He was looking for sudden death, to end this all. As the volume of city lights decreased, he was now beyond the grasp of the Capital.
His car's engine filled nuisance to the peaceful solemn night air as he passed the sophisticated houses lined up the medium-classed subdivision. Their subdivision's street was lit faintly with distant street lights and with a slight number of trees planted in between them. River Creek was dark and gloomy during this time and the crescent moon was high, illuminating the area like a large fog lamp hanging above them.
Lazily, he parked the vehicle outside his house and disembarked almost to a crawl. Lance drank the remaining vodka in the bottle and threw it carelessly to a place that he cared less. Even though he was dizzy and drunk, there was this weird feeling he felt that he was being watched, being followed, or being hunted.
Instinct of a spec ops was triggered. Heightened amidst the strength of liquor commandeering his brain.
With slow and heavy steps, he entered the house but was suddenly fetched by a tsunami of angry words from his wife, Angela.
"Here we go," He cursed under his breath as the long litany of hurtful, redundant words sprayed like automatic rifle on his face.
"You're drunk again! You smell like a prostitute! You do not care about me anymore!" and a lot of stream of bickering ammunition were all anticipated by the drunkard husband. But, surprisingly, they did not come.
She wore long soft-clothed sleeping nighties behind the opened front door. The softness of the textile rest perfectly on the curvy body of his wife. Her hair was long and she had thin but lean features.
'Still stunning though,' Lance struck a smile.
Angela crossed her arms with a disappointed face. She was used to this scenery and grew tired of what they become. This was almost their routine and if on good days, Lance would lazily just sit on the couch watching Television draining out the productive life he had before.
He was just blank all the time. His mind occupied and could never be moved on to the horrors he had experienced.
"Lance, when will these nights end?!? You are always drunk when you got home. Tonight, you smell like a stripper," She said with a faint of hopelessness in her voice. The soft nag continued but his husband maintained his nonchalance.
Lance slammed himself on their couch, slouched, and never had responded to the bickers from his wife. His head held back staring at the ceiling - Missiles would come down from the skies and would kill them instantly - his dark thoughts consumed.
Angela was now talking about expenses and money. It was the same sermon over and over again.
His monthly pension had not sufficed their middle-class lifestyle. He blamed her for being materialistic sometimes. Buying unnecessary things, availed instant gratifications, and almost unending visits to the beauty salons.
From her wife's perspective, she blamed him for procrastinating. Neglecting the talents that he could have used in the world beyond military service.
"Why not look for a carpentry job? I heard the other side of town was looking for an opening." She would say this statement before.
His replies would simply go like, "It is not the job for me." or something like, "Yeah, sure. Let me look at it." But he never did.
After a few minutes, Angela went upstairs with her anger depicting on her every footfall upon the stairs.
Then there was silence.
As lance was sitting on the couch, he imagined the beautiful lady at the bar. She smelled so good and stared so seductively. But her last words stunned him and continued playing in his mind. He was trained to overthink situations like these and as he went on analyzing her last words, he suddenly deduced that he was targeted.
He hauled himself from the couch and went over his pockets to look for his personal belongings, his wallet, his swiss knife, and his cell phone. He was suddenly sober.
Luckily, he was not robbed.
He realized a folded paper in his left pocket and found that it was a Government sealed message. He was surprised to have slipped in his pocket unnoticed. Opening it gave a tingling feeling to his spine.
The letterhead above the message was from a Government agency but he did not recognize the logo. The logo was an abstract head of a black wolf with Latin wordings surrounding it - "Primus Ego In Conspectu Dumos et Patria Protegat" (Protect country and family before self).
Then he went over to the message:
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(Highly Confidential)
Lt. Lance Davis,
You are called upon by your country. Our great nation needs your service.
Commander James Johnson needs you to be in his team, ASAP. We have your file and your records.
You are one of the bravest, greatest military operatives and top of your class. Your skillset is highly needed for a greater cause but life is hard as you know it. We have your financial problems and it destroyed your marriage. We are the solution should you choose to accept.
You will be compensated 10 times more than your current salary. I am confident that you will continue your patriotism by serving again your country.
Tomorrow at 1900 H, Warehouse 12, port 3, Astron City.
P.S.
Choose your decisions wisely. Think for your wife and yourself. Your country needs you.
Kate
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Lance sat down back to his couch thinking, internalizing, and cautiously deciding. He recognized the postscript and assumed that the lady in the bar was an undercover operative.
Her name was Kate as he ran an obvious deduction.
He went to his basement and retrieved a black bag full of weapons. He pulled a Desert Eagle handgun and 2 magazines. He filled the magazines with ammo and pulled his favorite hunting knife.
His military instincts were triggered like clockwork. His senses suddenly rose beyond the vodka's capacity disorienting him. His eyes widen, his breathing was steady, his mind straighten but his heart was thumping hard against his chest. As if he saw his chest rising and falling alternately.
He must be cautious and armed in going to the meeting. Preparation was always the key as they were trained. He checked the locks of his house and surveyed through the windows as he might think that their lives were in danger and he was being monitored by some dubious group that the Government had created.
Worst, by the rebel operatives looking for revenge.
'There is something out there watching. I sense it. I feel It. I am certain of it.' He thought. Gooseflesh loomed on his nape.
He watched a few minutes through their windows, in the front, and the back as paranoia kicked in. He realized that their backyard was dark and the outdoor lights were turned off.
'The lights should be turned on,' he assessed. As he ambled towards the backyard, he surveyed still like every corner was a probable ambush. His hand gun clasped perfectly to his both hands ready for a sudden kill.
Slowly, he focused his eyes on the large tree. An Acacia - wide trunk, thick leaves, and wide branch span.
A vague and dark figure silhouette of a girl stood behind the tree trunk. His finger grazed on the trigger, he was ready. He did not understand his feeling, was it a jolt of excitement or maybe fear of his imminent death?
The silhouette was motionless and still. He reached on the external switch for their backyard outdoor lamps.
'Just be ready. Whoever you are, defend yourself or you will be dead.' His thoughts rushed through and his gun aimed at the suspected perpetrator. His eyes almost bulged against the dark shade for a proper vision.
The backyard lights flickered for a few moments and illuminated every corner without dark shadows casted from the tree.
Fortunately, there was no one there standing behind the tree. He found not a soul after his thorough search. He untightened his grip of his gun.
'I am just imagining things. Maybe it is the vodka.' He spat.
He went back inside and locked the door behind him. He went to his couch, slammed himself on the sofa cushions, and tried to sleep. But sleep did not come.