Chapter 64
Neverending Wars (III)
Ethan and Michael stood side by side at the edge of a steep cliff, their eyes locked on the majestic city sprawling in the valley. The moonlight was rather fierce, illuminating the sharp edges of the buildings and giving a clear picture of the place even deep at night.
Everyone else was fast asleep, tired from the descending night and having crossed through into the Tunnel. Michael was tired, too, but he stubbornly stayed awake, rummaging through his memories.
"What do you think?" Ethan asked.
"... too little information", Michael shook his head. "Forgetting the fact that we know next to nothing about the city's infrastructure, we don't even know the rough estimate of how many soldiers they have."
"That's why infiltrating–"
"Infiltration isn't just sending in clever, trained soldiers into a danger zone," Michael interrupted. "They are missions often months, if not years in the making. Every detail is immaculately planned out–the route is pinpoint and precise, and we would have knowledge of exactly what every building was used for, where the patrols were, and where other security measures are enacted… in some ways, just infiltrating the place might be one of the easier steps of the operation."
"..." Ethan remained silent. He knew well enough about infiltrating himself as he'd done it thousands of times before, but there were some distinct differences, it seemed. Military, after all, erred on the side of caution–they had the resources and personnel to plan and map out everything. Ethan? He didn't. He was alone. If he had to sneak into the Palace inside a Tunnel, Palace so well guarded there was an actual army stationed within its halls, he simply had to find a way.
However, he couldn't ask that of others. They were trained in the frame of having all that information. And Michael also knew how to operate a mission within the confines of having that information.
"How many of them have stealth classes?" Ethan asked.
"... you still plan on going through with it?" Michael looked at him.
"I have to," Ethan shrugged. "Marching onto the city is, through a through, a suicide mission. And though it'd be the most efficient time-wise, as we could just sneak out and report them to the Kingdom, the rewards would likely be complete garbage. Furthermore, nobody we brought would have gained any experience surviving in the Tunnel."
"... what do you have in mind?" Michael asked.
"It'll be two-pronged," Ethan said. "I'll take two of the best and sneak into the city. One of them needs to have the ability to spot critical infrastructure," Ethan himself knew how to do that, but there was no reason to burden himself with everything. "We'll mark it and create a domino of failure. At the same time, you'll take account of all of our friends and divide them into six groups. Find what looks like the easiest points of access, and march them. Keep your soldiers at the rear and use the natives as meat shields."
"When?"
"In two days' time," Ethan said. "But, you'll know why."
"Another mart?"
"Something like that," Ethan smiled faintly.
"... will it be really that easy?"
"... no," Ethan replied honestly. "If anything, optimally, you guys would just stay here with them. I'd take a couple of weeks of trolling through the city until I find the critical point of failure. And then I'd kill them."
"That wouldn't work." Michael shook his head. "Even rudimentary governments have contingencies. That's why simply killing a King rarely ever collapsed the Kingdom outright."
"Perhaps not," Ethan said. "But it often spurred wars. Not external wars–but internal. Suddenly, the grip on power is loosened, and a huge swath of it is up for grabs. It'll happen to you, too."
"To me?"
"When we return," Ethan said. "And announce Zack died heroically inside the Tunnel. On the surface, it'd simply look like a simple transfer of power. But I imagine phone calls would be buying and currying favours massively."
"You have a fundamental understanding of how things operate," Michael said. "But you get lost in the details."
"Oh?"
"A critical point of failure is never a person," Michael said. "It's not even a family. Hell, millions of people dying wouldn't be a critical point of failure. After all, critical means that its disturbance meant complete collapse."
"... give me an example, then."
"Take North Korea," Ethan frowned. "For most of the year, you barely hear anything on the news from them. Then, suddenly, there is news everywhere about how they're threatening with nukes and missiles and whatnot."
"Their yearly 'give us food fest', yes, I'm aware."
"But North Korea doesn't publish news in America."
"... your point?"
"My point is that the entire nation is a critical point of failure," Michael said. "On a geopolitical scale, NK is largely a shameful part of our history. However, they still matter. Matter because they are a… convenience."
"... a convenient foe, huh?" Ethan mumbled.
"Oh? You're familiar with it?"
"Somewhat."
"My point is that even if you found a 'critical weakness' and exploited it, all your accomplishments would be short-term."
"I mean, yeah? That's the point? By the time they bounce back, we'll be sipping champagne in the Bahamas."
"... also a good point." Michael sighed with a chuckle.
"What collapse, precisely would NK 's failure lead to?"
"... the faint sheen of peace we've barely held stitched together with duct tape. More so now than ever before in modern history, self-interest soars. Countries maintain hollow platitudes, but just as we have sent no actionable intel to any of our allies, they haven't sent us anything worthwhile either. In the times of the unknowable, we turn to what is familiar, what we know, what is close to home."
"How patriotic," Ethan shrugged. "However, America, and especially its military, is hardly familiar and close to home for me. My interests will always be indulgently selfish, General. I don't trust people. Especially people in power."
"Why?"
"Why? Because it's like staring into a mirror," the two men looked at each other for a moment, the outlines of their faces shimmering in the moonlight. "I know my own capacity for indulgence. You seem like a good man, Michael. But that is all relative. I garner you have a rather complex relationship with the skeletons in your closet."
"..."
"Elijah, on the other hand, is good to the point of stupidity. It will kill him one day, undoubtedly, and, fancy though I do the boy, I will not save him. Not because I won't be capable, but because his usefulness will have finally fallen short of his cost."
"..."
"In the end, we are all slaves to our own desires. We hide them well enough when need be, but we are weak. Tomorrow, if a choice presented itself to you–save a million people and kill Ethan, or save Ethan and kill a million people, you'd kill me without a second thought."
"Your choice would be different?" Michael asked.
"... unlike yours, there's a chance it might be. I can't trust you not to stab me in the back, and you can't work with me unless you can control me."
"... all fair," Michael replied, surprising Ethan to a degree. "You're right. I would sacrifice you in a heartbeat. And do you blame me for wanting to control you? You are volatile, Ethan, precisely because you are selfish. It'd be one thing if you were simply greedy, but that isn't the case with you, I've noticed. You're not… greedy. But when there is something you want, I imagine there's little you wouldn't do to get it."
"... is that why you kept Elijah and Delilah out of coming with us?" Ethan asked. "To have cards to keep my volatility in check?"
"Can you blame me?"
"... I can, and I will," Ethan said. "It was the final straw, really."
"Hm?" Michael frowned suddenly.
"I was willing to play through the whole charade if I got what I wanted," Ethan's eyes turned cold suddenly. "But… I was denied that. So, as you wouldn't play by the rules, neither will I."
"... what do you mean?" Michael asked tepidly.
"In a few days' time," Ethan said as he began walking away. "America will have a lot of new heroes, all of a sudden. I've changed my mind, General. I'll go alone."
"If something happens to us, you will never see either of them. You will never see your daughter, either. Ugh–" Michael felt a radiating pulse of pain from his side; looking down, he saw a knife sticking out from in between his ribs, fingers tightly coiled around the handle. Ethan looked at him as though he were not a human, but a lesser creature, a thing unwanted.
"And that was the point when I recognised I'd have to kill you," the voice that trailed through the man's parted lips… was not human. Michael suddenly felt terror assail his heart as he fell down to his knees. "It was all meticulous. But… you have miscalculated something, General."
"..."
"I am far, far, far, far more broken than you imagined," Ethan's lips curled up into a smile. "My paranoia is a persistent voice that doubts everything. Everyone. And once it latches onto something… it's like a rabid dog. It never lets go. You want me. You wanted me since the day we met face to face, I imagine. That's who you are. You are a collector," Ethan twisted the dagger, causing Michael to wince and yelp in pain. "But you do not want a dog that will not sit when you tell him to sit."
"... when… when did you…" Michael managed to mumble.
"Well, there was always suspicion," Ethan said. "But when I knew… was when we were intercepted in front of the barracks. You were too hasty, too impatient. You needed to get me under control before the Tunnel in our city opened. And you saw it fit to shove me into a Tunnel and then round up everyone in my camp."
"... why… come, then?" a voice cracked in the middle. It was strange, eerie, and inhuman.
"Because the only person I actually care about is perfectly safe," Ethan said simply. "I am curious, though. When did you get to the General?"
"... he, he, he he he he," creepy, high-pitched laughter pierced through the thick voice of the General, calm eyes twisting into empty, hollow voids of darkness. However, the body could not move. "Amazing, isn't it? He he~ when, when, when indeed? When do you think?"
"... my best guess? When we separated," Ethan said. "And you went to 'prepare everything' for our departure."
"He he he~~who, who the hell are you? You are not a human. Not a normal human. You are weird. Strange. He he. Strange, strange. Abnormal. Odd. Interesting. He he he. What, what gave me, us, me away? I were perfect, he he. We was perfect. Perfect. Always perfect."
"... it was a rather small thing," Ethan smiled faintly. "The moment I saw that Elijah wasn't with us on the plane. I knew."
"He he. Impossible. No. Impossible."
"I said nothing because I wanted to see what your plan was," Ethan held the knife steady. "But it really was just as simple as controlling me. While Michael did want to control me, I did mean when I said he was a good man. He would have undoubtedly lied to me and tried to goad me into helping him… but he would have never used my 'daughter' as a bargaining chip."
"He he he. Stupid, stupid humans. Weak. Pathetic. Stupid, he he he."
"When did you become James? I'm guessing it was before we met up that day and I kicked your ass to high heaven. Probably when you decided you needed me to become part of your collection."
"He he he he. It was, he he, so simple~ stupid humans. Stupid, stupid."
"I imagine it was," Ethan sighed. "And yet. Look at you. Dying at the hands of a human."
"He he he~~haaaaa~~you, you human? No. Not a human. You like me, like us. Odd. Abnormal. A strange thing."
"... in the end, you still got what you wanted," Ethan sighed. "The city will go to shit when it's learned that Michael's dead."
"He he he~~ stupid, weak humans! Death of one, the plight of many!"
"... so, odd little thing, how about you and I make a deal?"
"A deal?"
"Aye, a deal. You keep being the General, and I'll keep providing you with enough chaos and entertainment that you might just die of joy."