"WAIT!" One of the operatives screamed.
Their guns were out. Somewhat of a useless attempt considering that their only way of punishing me for pulling the trigger would be by shooting me themselves. And in that scenario, that would be useless. I had the upper hand. That is, if the power to choose when I die could be considered an advantage.
For now, all I can do is try to get as much information as possible.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, attempting to keep a tremor out of my voice.
The operatives looked at each other. This was the first time I got a good look at them without having to run for my life. One man had pale skin, the other dark. They had blonde and black hair, respectively. The first had brown eyes, the second blue. The woman, seemingly in command of them all, had white hair and gray eyes. Never before had I seen such features.
"We want your help," the woman finally said.
My help? MY HELP? What could anyone want with a dirty hacker like me? "Bullshit," I called back. "You know you can't get anything out of someone like me."
The operatives looked confused. "I thought you said he was smart," the black-haired one said.
Even I was confused now. "Um... first of all—fuck you. Secondly, I am just a hacker. I have no experience fighting or researching or... whatever you want. The U.S. has no use for me. If I pulled the trigger right now, nobody would care."
The woman spoke again: "If you pulled that trigger, the U.S. would be blown to pieces by Russia."
That registered in my mind. How could the world be so peaceful if such a thing was happening? Surely, with the threat of a bombing hung over us, everyone would be panicking. But no, business had gone on as usual. So much so that I had no clue that it was occurring. I slowly pulled the gun away from my neck, pointing it toward the ground. I breathed and awkwardly began. "Yeah... so, um, nobody told me about this sort of massive looming threat."
The operatives seemed to consider that. "I suppose if you had been living on the run, news like that wouldn't have reached you." The blonde male said.
I blinked. "No shit. But anyway, what would you want with someone like me?"
"Well..." The woman paused. "You could hack Russia."
Hack Russia?
"What? Russia? Huh?" I stuttered, at a loss for words. "Wait, wait, wait. Go back. Why are we hacking Russia?"
The woman seemed to consider that. "Well, unfortunately, we believe that we are dealing with a third World War."
My jaw dropped. "And Russia started it?"
"Well, yes. Vilimar Undrith, a tactical genius, had apparently paid for a series of strategic murders that left the Russian presidential position up for grabs. After taking the leadership of the country, he launched the biggest cyber attack ever recorded, shutting down billions of computers."
"And you think I could combat a powerful bastard like that?"
"We think you're one of the only people good enough—and stubborn enough—to try."
I paused before a question floated immediately to my mind. "How much will you pay me?"
"A pardon, and if you continue hacking for us, enough money to keep you here for life."
An image floated into my mind: me working for the government, coming home to a luxurious hotel, seeing my family. My kids, my hus-
No. I could not hope for love, nor dream for it. This world is not gracious enough to give me someone that I could trust, that I could care for. But still: no more life on the run. It would be amazing. No more living day-to-day, worrying about getting captured and killed. I could just work for money, and that would be it. I would be normal, as far as an ex-criminal hacker could be.
Then, I spoke the word that would change my life forever:
"Fine."
As we walked out of the alley, I could not help but feel like I was being babysat. The operatives formed a triangle around me, and they had immediately seized my gun and backpack. Thankfully, I still had my wallet. Even these paranoid freaks couldn't find anything wrong with that. But my precious microchips and computer? Gone in a flash.
We walked out into the street, and I was no longer wearing my hood. People gasped. Whispers flew around.
"Is that Cade?"
"I think it is..."
"He's been caught!"
"Are we safe now?"
I was debating whether to flash a certain finger at the crowd when we reached the car that the officers had pulled up in. It had a crisp demeanor, with sharp edges and black-shaded windows. Pretty badass, I thought to myself. But then again, that's the CIA for you.
We walked across the busy road, not bothered by all the cars that had stopped to watch the scene. The woman sat in the passenger's side, the man with dark skin at the wheel, and the blonde-haired man sat in the first row of captain's seats. That left me with one captain's seat or the entirety of the back. I swallowed and chose the latter. I needed to remind myself that no matter what, I was not like these people. Not rich enough. Not privileged enough.
The man hit the gas, and the car hit the road.
It started with awkward silence. All my belongings were in the trunk, and I couldn't bring myself to mention the hotel where the rest of my sparse collection of objects were. Or my car.
Fuck my car, I'm in with the goddamn CIA!
The thought still was a little strange to me. Cade, a small nerd turned tech genius turned hacker, is working for the government. Fighting for the government. At that thought, a mental picture surfaced. Me in a uniform and mask, with a large gun—not a dinky pistol—a real gun. And I was fighting, shooting, killing. It was brutal, but exciting. Is that the right word? Could I be excited about war?
No, no, it must be something else.
My thoughts were cut into by the female operative. "So, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am the Chief Operations Officer, Officer Whiteford. These are officers Sanchez and Torres." She gestured to the man in the middle of the car and the man driving, respectively.
"Hey... I guess." I said.
"Nice to meet you." Sanchez grunted. Torres was silent.
Bits of panic set in, mixed with relaxation. I was in a vehicle, speeding off to who the fuck knows where, and, to top it off, I was with people who had hunted me down for years. Now, I just hop into a car with them and treat everything they say like gospel. A voice in my head reprimanded me for the panic: What else would you do?
Continue what I always do, I countered.
What do you always do? Live a life on the lam, always running. You can't even stay out in public for a few hours before getting shot?
It pays the bills.
So does this.
"Shut up!" It was too late when I realized that I had spoken the words aloud. Everyone looked at me as if I was insane. Which I very well might be, that same bitchy voice in my head responded. I swallowed, wishing that the car's padded seats would just dissolve and dump me out into the road. It would be better than being in this car.
My voice was small when I finally spoke. "Sorry."
Officer Whiteford whispered into Torres's ear. It was difficult to hear, but I did catch the words 'mentally stable.'
Damn, they do think I'm insane.
Not that it really mattered. If they weren't spitting bullshit into my face, then I can assume I'm just here for my skills. A not-so-sane person can still develop cyber weapons to cause mass destruction, right? Again, a voice in my head reprimanded me, "No." You are an idiot.
Thanks, voice. Really helping.
Anytime.
Was that... sarcasm? Can self-doubt thoughts be sarcastic? By now, anything was possible. I zoned out and was asleep before I knew it.
My eyes fluttered open. I shook my head, before realizing where I was. The car bounced up and down along the dirt roads. ...Wait, dirt? The last time I had checked, the roads had been paved. I looked out the window. "The hell?" I whispered upon the sight in front of me.
A sprawling campus stretched out to my right. Barbed fences and huge black buildings filled my view. Everywhere there were soldiers drilling, cadets training, and people in suits conferring. I heard loudspeakers going off faintly in the distance. This place was... legit? I suppose that's a word. So it is over the top, but I'm not going to be ungrateful.
Officer Whiteford looked back, grinning slightly.
"Welcome to Xarnon."