January 5th, 2058 – Present Day
Malcom was trying to look uninterested and just another poor slob having a meal. It wasn't hard, at the moment there wasn't a great deal happening. It was warm enough to eat outside but it was the rainy season. Most wouldn't dare try to put tables out, but a few places would. His chosen roost was one of them. It gave him a good excuse to sit outside and look around. He had a keen eye for detail, critical in this kind of work. Still his eyes hadn't found anything to be alarmed about yet. His primary reason in being here was to watch the junction of two streets. It gave him a great sightline to look for things that were out of place. He continued his scan of the area while working on his pastel. The pastel was yet another part of the message he wanted to send passersby. Pastels were street food, cheap and common, as was he….. nothing to see here.
Malcom was young at only 23, young by anyone's measure. But that didn't mean he was inexperienced or a poor fit. In this case his youth was an advantage. This part of Sao Paulo had a lot of 20 and 30 somethings walking around at all hours. But he wasn't a local, he was an American from Texas. Still, he did his best to blend in. To that end, his clothing was wrinkled and a couple days removed from a wash. Considering where he was, he blended right into the back ground. This part of Sao Paulo was an upscale area, but plenty of americano's like him could be seen around. Three blocks further north was an American enclave of expats. So, while clearly not a local, those that were, didn't pay Malcom much mind. They also didn't try to engage in conversation with him because he was clearly poor and unkempt. The trick to be seen but forgettable, was to be someone folks WANTED to forget.
Malcom wasn't the only person working in the plaza. His group of which he led, had six members. Five of whom were out in the open now. The sixth was back at their flop of a safehouse monitoring things remotely. He was also their communication link to home. Every 15 or so minutes, like he was trained, Malcom would make sure his team was where they should be. Each of them were all working to blend in, yet keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. He finished his small meal and took his time cleaning up after himself, mostly to keep his vigil a bit longer. He was already well past the time he said they would break coverage. But Malcom didn't like going home, he liked being in the field. He so wanted something to be out of place, something to happen! But it didn't, and he had to scold himself to be serious and not jinx this operation.
There wasn't anything more to do here, and staying too long on site was also a bad idea. They had gotten word it was time to pack it in after today. It was time to move on to another location, more days outside looking at nothing. Standing slowly, he made a show of himself to get his teams attention. He threw the cup in the trash and pulled his cap off his head. That was a signal to his people to break position, and work their way back to the safehouse. Each would take their time, some of which would take two full hours to travel only 20 minutes distance on foot. It was a lot of work to make sure they weren't followed. But for Malcom there was no such worry. Two simple attempts to clear a tail and then he was back at the safehouse. As he walked in the new kid who was manning the communications for this op threw up his hand in a hello.
Malcom while young had been doing this for years now, and he was good. He had made a name for himself in this very team. When Jake was moved to intelligence, he was nominated to take over leadership. It was one of the greatest days of his life when he got the news. Even if he was the King's son, he had EARNED this promotion. Unlike his brothers who had gone into the Army or Marines for additional on the job training, Malcom had gone into the reconnaissance game. He hadn't wasted a moment of those years. Learning everything he could from Jake and the elders. Some whispered that he had only been handed leadership because of his father. But he knew better, this was HIS team, and it was his time. His team's name was Epsilon. It was one of 4 recon teams that Moonstone employed. Moonstone was a PMC or a private military contractor. Based in Texas they only operated overseas. And over the last few years they had done a lot of operating. They were a thriving business, with 15 teams in the field.
"How are our birds?"
The boy was closely monitoring four other members of the team so he only looked back for a second and grinned. From the monitors Malcom could see each of his team running their evasion programs. Recon teams like his straddled the space between soldiers and spy's. They only had to be proficient in basic combat skills, but they had to be artists at observation. Their job was to blend into society and observe and report. Getting seen themselves was a sure-fire way to disappear in a foreign country. Moonstone relied on them to be the eyes anywhere it went. When one of the larger Moonstone teams came through they needed to know what they were walking into. Recon teams came in weeks or even months in advance, learning the patterns of a place. That allowed Moonstone to avoid the messier kinds of fights they had fought in the beginning.
Malcom looked around the safehouse again seeing everything was as it should be. With that he went to shower off the grime and stink he had worked to accumulate. Once in the shower he let his guard down. Every soldier has to learn when and where he can do that. You can't be 100% all of the time. That only worked in books, real professionals had to know when and where they could unplug. There had to be balance, time when you were fully aware, and time when you weren't. Otherwise, you become numb to everything. Now was the time for him to unplug from his senses and put his mind into neutral. The warm water caused his muscles to relax and his mind to take over from his eyes and his ears. As he showered he went over in his mind the purpose of all this watching. It was an odd feeling, part of him longed for this moment when he was away. Yet the moment he entered the shower a part of him felt vulnerable, as if danger lurked around the corner. It was youth and inexperience he told himself. He had seen his elders do this numerous times. They never seemed to have self-doubt at times like this. He smirked as he laughed at his doubts. There was plenty enough to worry about, and not some phantom stalking him.
In three days, this operations principal would arrive. The principal was the word given to the protectee, or in plain English the guy who had to keep breathing while he was here. Moonstone generally traveled with large protective teams for that kind of mission. Teams Eta, Theta, and Iota all did that kind of work full time. Each protection team had 24 members, far more than any other team. The protection teams all trained hard to keep their principal alive. Protection detail was some of the most difficult work the company did. But it was also some of the most profitable, at least as far as Malcom could tell. In this case whoever the principal was he or she had to be important. His recon team, protection teams Eta and Iota were assigned, as were teams Mu and Gamma. Mu was the name for the aviation group, they had four ancient Blackhawks at their disposal and could fly anywhere. Gamma was a 12-man assault or counter terrorism team. When Moonstone wanted someone dead, they sent a team like Gamma. All told nearly 100 members of Moonstone were assigned. That had to be a record, generally they all worked alone.
Moonstone used the Greek alphabet to name their teams. To Malcom it seemed natural, but he had grown up in the Agoge. Like most of his upbringing it was dripping in Greek culture. The Agoge was a school modeled on Spartan culture and discipline. When speaking to a customer, who knew nothing of Moonstone's real origin or purpose, it was always confused them to hear all the Greek terminology. As of now they were up to the Greek name Omicron, but two more teams were set to be up and running by summer. PMC's were a dime a dozen in the 21st century, but Moonstone was unusual. Every member of Moonstone belonged to a clan, a single one to be precise. Each were full-fledged vampires. All had graduated the Agoge back home and all had spent their lives training and working together. Many were family, and they would spend their lifetime working for the company. Malcom would have it no other way, he loved his clan and what they had built together. From the time he was 10 years old when mother had sent him to the Agoge. To age 16 when he had joined Moonstone, there was never any question what he wanted. He wanted to gain honor, become a respected, and valued man of his clan. That would lead to a good match, and the respect of his brothers. He craved that respect like a thirsty man sought water. He could and would sacrifice many things, but honor and respect wasn't one of them.
Not all of Moonstone were physical brothers, although many were. Yet Malcom thought of them as full brothers anyway. Years in the Agoge, training every day, fighting, and learning. They had bonded tightly and looked after each other with an intensity. It also led to fierce rivalries amongst each other. When alone they could bicker and compete with the best of them. But when facing others, they were brothers. In the Agoge Malcom had learned what being a man was. He had discovered his strengths and his weaknesses. His brothers had pushed him to discover his limits. For any man just knowing these were critical. Most thought they knew them, but most didn't. A man could fight, love, suffer far longer than he believed. The Agoge taught him all these things and more. The Agoge didn't do what modern armies did in training. It wasn't about basic skills, it was about trust. Each warrior had to know the man beside him and behind him would not flinch, not flee. It did more than give him comfort, it emboldened him to stand as well.
Each child who entered the Agoge did so as individuals. They were called by their names, and treated with a mixture of scorn and sympathy. At first Malcom had thought they were comforting him. Eventually he learned it was not a tone of respect, but rather the opposite. It wasn't until the boy had suffered and shown real strength that this ceased. Then he was simply called "Paides", the equivalent in English might be trainee. It was both a rank, and a term of station of life. As a Paides he was no longer despised, but he wasn't honored either. Near the end of his time in the Agoge he was tested, it was never fully explained how this was done. But one night he was attacked by nearly all his fellow Paides. Bound and hooded he was taken away from the Agoge and left alone, without proper clothing or supplies alone in the woods.
It took Malcom three days to return to the camp. Just finding it proved difficult enough. But feeding himself, keeping himself safe in difficult terrain, and surviving the heat was difficult. When he entered the gate tried, hungry and ready for sleep he was confronted in combat. Two men, not boys attacked him. Malcom had used every inch of his skill and ounce of his strength not to be killed by them. Their blows were that of a man who wished to kill, not train. Pondering the memory Malcom felt both pride and awe at his reaction. He was a moment before ready to collapse but when he entered battle he was a different beast. He managed to hit one of the attackers so hard he went back against the hut with force. The other man sliced a gash into his head but paid for it with a devastating blow to his knees that send him to the ground with a thud. Malcom was about ready to open his skull with his staff when father shouted for him to stop. He had passed his test and become a free man that day. At that moment at age 16 he had passed from being a child to being a citizen, a Hoplite. That night standing next to his father and the other men of the camp he knew he belonged. Seeing their respect in their eyes, and being accepted into their ranks was the greatest moment of his childhood. He had never sat foot into the barracks again after that night. From that day onward he had been a man, and was given work like one. Moonstone was his home, and his life's calling.
Malcom turned off the water and paused before leaving. He thought of his brothers in the other teams, and those serving in the military. One day those brothers would return home and join them in Moonstone. All of those young Paides he had trained with were now men themselves. Few of those boys failed, yet some had. Those that did found other vocations, and purposes for their life. But they would never become Spartinates, or in other words they would never reach the highest level of spartan life. Malcom was well on the way to reaching it already. Perhaps in another 5-10 years he would and then he would be allowed to take a woman and create his house. In the Agoge the boys had all been taught to see this process as good and honorable. Not until they had achieved greatness would they become full members of their clan's social life. Malcom and his best friend in the Agoge had long talked about what honors they would gain, and which of their clan's women they would desire. Thinking of his friend he frowned, it had been far too long since he had last seen him.
Malcom worried about Darious. He knew Darious had been struggling with life apart from the clan. He had already completed his first 4-year enlistment in the Army. He hadn't left yet because he wanted to get into the Rangers. The training was useful and it would help him get something else Darious wanted. The hand of a grey woman he desired. Malcom thought that foolish, Darious's intended target was not someone Malcom thought worthy of such desire. Yet Darious wanted nothing but her. Malcom had no such weaknesses. He did his duty to the clan when it was requested. Wither that be serving in Moonstone or being asked to lay with a grey woman to help her create another. It was rare, but there had been times. That was enough for Malcom, he did not need a wife. He wasn't an old man with designs on a house yet. Malcom's ambition was for honor, the woman would come with that soon enough he reasoned. And honor would only come through the help of his other Hoplites.
As he dried off he thought about his team, his new charges. All of them were chosen by him, as the old team had all been reassigned. This was his team, and most of them were straight out of the Agoge. So far his little team had done well. Still, they hadn't been tested like some of the others. Team Gamma for instance had gotten into a full-fledged firefight down in Mexico. They had utterly slaughtered the hired guns, killed their main target and gotten out without causality. That was the kind of impact Malcom wanted to make. Even now Rene who led that team was being considered for elevation to full Spartiate rank. At only 30 it meant retirement from the field, his choice of wife, and a comfortable living. If he was elevated it would mean his new mission would be to father children, rather than do battle with the enemy. Rene would be then and only then a full member of his clan. No longer considered property of his mother, and head of his own house. Malcom craved that level of respect, but not the idle life. If he was Rene he would take the rank, but turn down the retirement. It was sometimes allowed, but rarely. Their king wished to grow the clan as it had stayed stagnate for too many years before his reign.
After dressing he was imagining himself returning home a hero, having done a great deed like Rene. He nearly missed it when he walked into the room. The chair where the boy had been sitting was empty. Turned over and on the floor. Malcom's senses came alive not because of a great noise was heard. Rather because the safehouse was deathly quiet. There was always noise from the neighbors and the street. But now….
Malcom only took a single step before powerful arms came from behind him yanking him backwards. At the same time a baton like object was shoved hard into his exposed underarm. The pain it caused was like nothing he had ever experienced before. While this was going on, the man, it had to be a man, had him off his feet. He could not find purchase to use his immense vampiric strength to break the hold of the intruder. A moment later he felt a needle pierce his side and he shot his head around to see whom had done this.
Malcom was astonished to find it was the boy, Jason, his new communications specialist who had stabbed him with the needle. He managed to get the boy's name out in an astonished question. But by the time he spoke the last syllable of his name, he felt his voice begin to slur. There were others now, strangers with hooded faces who moved to take him. In that moment Malcom was angry, astonished, and most of all dumfounded at his luck. He was going to die on his first major assignment and he didn't even know whom had done it? As his eyes began to grow dark he wondered why the boy had turned against him, and just how he had managed to screw this up so badly.
January 6th, 2058 – San Paulo, Meridia
Malcom awoke to find himself lying on a couch. It was daytime and considering the looks of it before noon. That meant it had to be at the very least the next day. Before making a noise or trying to move he tried to gain his senses and see what he could see. There wasn't much other than some patio furniture. He was just starting to make out a vast fleet of vehicles when he heard his host speak. She was a young female; her voice was full of confidence and charm.
"Finally, I was wondering if you would return to us. Welcome, can I get you something to drink?"
Malcom heard the clanging of ice into a glass and turned his head slowly towards the sound. His first glimpse of her was these thin dainty hands filling a tumbler with a milky substance. The ice was going into another tumbler with what looked like something harder.
"Vitamina, have you had that yet Malcom? Any visitor to my country should. I think it's wonderful, especially when the summer heat comes."
Malcom looked up at her, she was young perhaps his age. She barely had anything on, just an expensive looking bra and panty set showing from behind a silk semi-transparent robe of the same pattern. Her Brown hair fell down to her breasts, and she had a glorious smile and eyes that….Malcom stopped breathing when he saw her eyes. She grinned widely seeing his astonishment.
"Yes I am like you, we are both immortal Malcom. You are among friends Hermano, be at ease. Take it, it's refreshing…"
She handed him the drink, he had heard about Vitamina before, it was some kind of fruit smoothie. Without thinking he took a drink and found it to be rather good. He pulled up to a sitting position as his host came near him sitting seductively in a chair opposite him. Once sitting she crossed her legs and smirked at him, knowing full well just what kind of show she was putting on. He took the moment not to stare at her beautiful legs but rather took quick looks for exits and means of defense.
"Malcom, I only want to talk. When we are done you will be free to return to your people if you wish. Although after you hear what I have to offer, you may decide Sao Paulo has much to offer someone like you."
He smirked himself, shocked to be talking to another vampire, and a grey one at that. He said as much to her, but her reaction surprised him.
"Vampire! I am not a vampire! Don't try to compare what we are with some stupid American movie. We are nothing like those creatures. We are immortals Malcom, we do not bite necks or feast on blood! You know this Hermano, we are far more civilized and refined than that. Your mother let you watch too many movies. You would have been far better served reading Hermano."
He had never heard one of his people hate that word so much. Back home it was simply an accepted term. Moving quickly, he pretended to ignore the offense he had created, neither apologizing for it or acknowledging it. He asked her whom her family was and when she had left Medford.
"Malcom, not every grey is from America. Centuries before your little group formed, ours was already well into its second Millennium. Meridia is our home, we have been in this land for almost as long as your nation has drawn breath."
Malcom heard the name of her country and again felt odd at hearing it. Meridia had only sprung into existence in the last 15 years. The rivalry between Brazil and Argentina had ended when both merged into one South American superpower. Since then, Chile, Bolivia, Peru, and Paraguay had all ceded their sovereignty to become one with Meridia. Meridia's strong man Carlos Silva had in a very short time rose to power and was dominating nearly all of Latin America. There was talk that Meridia had eyes on Columbia and Venezuela. Malcom had long thought America's next war would be in this region, one of the reasons why he had asked for any assignment that took him here. He asked her about Silva and if they controlled him.
"You ask questions, why? Is knowledge the only thing you seek here? Must you sit there staring when we could be communicating in the way we were intended? I wonder do your people not understand our ways?"
Malcom was confused for a bit, he was trying to figure out who this chick was, and what all of this meant. He was very slow to realize what she wanted. She rose to her full height looking at him with a searching look. She held out her hand, wishing him to stand with her. He took it and the moment he did he began to understand. She wished to dance the dance of their people. A very intimate experience and something Malcom had only heard about. His father had done this dance with Tina his first wife, when she was leader of the clan. Dad had only described it in small details. But as this woman moved around him, going in and out of sight she began to move faster and faster. Soon he wasn't able to see her less he try to move with her speed. As if his legs grew a mind of their own he moved. Trying in vain to keep up with her.
He felt strange, was this just a simple game. He laughed as he had to use his abilities just to keep up. As a vampire he was faster and stronger than humans, but as a grey he had special skills. It was only these that saved him when her dance became close and then violent. Instead of being upset by it, Malcom desired it. To be tested, to show his skill and spar with this grey woman. It was so similar to what he and his brothers and sisters had played at when they were children. A very Grey version of hide and seek. As Grey children it often ended in fist fights. One of the reasons why it was forbidden. They still played it anyway; it was too good a chance to get even when one of them ticked you off.
"I wish to know you Hermano, come dance with me. All of your questions will be answered if you do."
Wasn't that what he was doing? And yet he wasn't trying to best her, only avoid her. Malcom indulged the grey one, partially because he needed answers. And partially because he was aroused by her, a chance to test his skill with her sounded divine. The fury of blows and kicks, and jabs began. Each trying to catch the other, each trying to avoid the other. It went on like this far longer than what Malcom was used to as a child. This woman was skilled, and very powerful. He had to use all his might, all his skill just to keep up. Finally, he began to see the patterns of her moves and anticipated her. He lunged towards her and once they ceased rolling found himself entangled with her on the floor. Each were breathing sharply and excited. He was on top of her and felt her softness and could smell the scent of her. She smelled of lilacs and her smile was that of a predator. He asked her what her name was. Up till now she hadn't even given that.
"Does it matter? Why not take your prize?"
He felt her move and seductively pull at his loose-fitting clothing. He was tempted to make love to her, but he knew nothing about her, nothing about what she was trying to do. And something told Malcom if this woman was like the Grey women he knew. She was only testing him, most Grey women were like that. Devious, plotting, and always gaming you and everyone else to their own end. Malcom's body wanted to feast on her but his mind and intellect screamed at the stupidly of doing so.
"I would like to, but my purpose isn't to give in to desire. And something tells me neither is yours."
Surprise and shock appeared for in instant on the woman's face. She was happily astonished to see that Malcom could not be so easily manipulated. Her sexual teasing with her hands ceased and she spoke with a different tone. Calmer and one without all the honey. This was the real person, not the image she wished to show.
"My name is Camila."
She seemed shocked and pleasantly surprised at him. Taking the hint, he rose up and helped her to her feet. A part of him rebelled against his judgement. He would have very much liked to make love to her lovely form. Camila was a beauty, and he had never seen a woman look at him in such a way before. The dance as she called it made him desirous more than normal. Even now with his mind clear, his body stayed aroused, his body refused to allow him to relax. Thankfully he wasn't alone, Camila too was clearly affected.
"This is your first time, you haven't ever really danced our way before. I would wager you haven't. I can tell you want me, but still, you keep yourself….. You are nothing like your friend."
He was inching closer to her and she was to him. He wasn't sure he could go another round of "dancing" without making love to her. When he put a hand on her she nearly melted into him. Yet she had compared him to his teammate, the one who had betrayed him he would guess. So that is why he bent, she had seduced him. That realization did much to calm his libido. Camila however was cooing softly at his touch and continued to grow closer.
"I should have guessed the son of a King would have more control than that boy. I wish you didn't, I would very much like to continue our dance."
Her confirmation about the boy made him ask in a hard tone about him. She was confused for a moment and then had to take a breath to re-center herself. Clearly the dance had Camila out of her comfort zone as well.
"Jason was offered what he desired, a few local thralls we have for his pleasure. He did not take much convincing Malcom."
After closing his eyes and forcing himself to calm down he asked his next question. Why was he here, and what did Camila have in mind?
"I could ask the same of you. You are in my country without permission. You lurk about pretending to be nothing, when you are so much more. What is it you want Malcom, what is it you most desire in my country? I know your heart is of our people… that much is clear. But…what about you Malcom who are you?"
He smiled at her; it was hard to do much of anything else. She was radiant, lovely and she was working overtime on charming him. He wasn't buying it…. ok he was, but he knew better at least. Before he could answer she took ahold of him again and was the same alluring temptress she was earlier. Gone was the brief moment they had shared when he was sure he was talking to the real Camila. She had been astonished at his reserve. Saying her name and that tender look, he wagered that was said outside of her desires. She had reacted, rather than followed her plan. Now she was back on that plan and was working overtime on charming him. She wanted something, clearly she made it seem like it was him. Wither or not he was the real target of her affection he couldn't say. Jason didn't stand a chance against her. That thought didn't change his opinion of Jason, but he better understood why Jason had bent. Thinking of Jason got his mind back on business at hand.
"Oh, I want all kinds of things, but right now I need to understand why Jason, why me?"
Now she wasn't so impressed, clearly she thought less of him just by the way her expression changed. Her tone and words hammered that home seconds later.
"Isn't it obvious, you are both Grey. Inducing any grey to join us is a major victory for us. We struggle to sustain our numbers, especially with men. Bringing in two handsome, virile, young male immortals could do nothing but help, don't you think? Jason will be given many thralls and will live a very comfortable life here. Some of our grey women might even lay with him, the opportunity to have an immortal child is simply too tempting. Even with a man such as Jason. Just think what a man like you could have, you are nothing like him."
He quietly laughed at the obvious jibe. Clearly Camila had no respect for Jason. The boy wasn't horrible to look at so he suspected she looked down on him for the same reason why he did. The boy had betrayed his word for sex, and a chance at an easy life. He had walked away from his mother, his brothers even! Camila's comment was clearly insincere, if he stayed for sex she wouldn't respect him anymore than she did Jason. Was it so difficult for them to produce another generation of their kind? Was such an issue real, or just something to hide another need? He would have to ask mother when he got home….if he got home. She clearly saw his mind working. As she pet him and he drank in her beauty she tried to calm his concerns.
"You have to understand having an immortal child is rare. But if your lover is also immortal, well then your chances are so much the better. We are few in number here, and adding you and Jason to our little group, would be a massive boon. I promise you if you stay your life will be pleasant. If you like…I could be the one to make it so?"
He allowed her to kiss him and he took her into his arms. The smell of lilacs and her soft skin was charming. But he wasn't going to sell his loyally and his honor for anyone. And his internal voice said she was like all those grey women at home. Testing, devious, and full of intrigue.
"And yet if I stay with you Camila, would I not be laying down my honor? Would I not be betraying my oath, my family and my brothers? What kind of man would I be? Is that the kind of man you desire… would you respect such a man?"
He paused to look at her and judge if he had correctly assessed whom she really was. So many grey women could be like this, in his father's time they even tried to seduce young men when they was accepted into the clan. It was their way of accessing just how far they would go. Those that chose the flesh and showed no code, no respect, would be treated without any. Those that denied their flesh, against their nature, displaying a higher code…. Those men were culled out for special treatment. Of course that was how things USED to be. But looking at Camila he could imagine it was how things worked for her. She smiled at his words, confirming what he thought. Still, she continued her pace of temptation.
"Yes but what does it matter? What does it matter if you can have our bodies but not our respect? Why does such a thing matter to you? You could be unburdened by responsibility. Jason will never have to work again. When he desires a new woman to make love to, they will be provided. Imagine it, a life full of pleasure, without responsibility."
His answer was something drilled into him from the time he was a child. Something father had taught him.
"A man without honor, isn't a man at all."
At the Agoge that way of life was taught in a way few could depart from. To go another way was to violate everything they knew. It was core to who he was, and to anyone he respected. He spoke the words, things felt rather than thought. Her response again confirmed he was right. His life was duty, and his duty was life. Life without honor wasn't life at all., such a man who desired that, wasn't a man at all.
"I wish you weren't American. I like you Malcom… more than I should. If you were syngéneia I would do much to have you."
He saw the sadness in her eyes and wondered what that Greek word meant. He started to ask her but she ceased trying to seduce him and took a few steps away. Now he would learn his real fate, and he wasn't confident that it would be anything as calm as Jason's. Yet Jason was a dog, and he suspected Jason would not live in comfort and sloth forever. At least he hoped not.