Chatper 20

Pov Police radio

”All units be advised. Suspect is heading east on Monroe” Centre

“This is unit 17. We have a visual on the suspect, I repeat, we have a visual on the suspect. Suspect is driving a green Kawasaki.” Car unit

“This is unit 5. We have a visual on the suspect.” Car unit

“Suspect turned north on route one.” Centre

“This is helo 2. We have a visual on the suspect.” Helicopter unit

“All units be advised, suspect is armed and dangerous. Proceed with extreme caution.” Centre

“What is the suspect’s location” Det. Simmons

“Still heading north on route one.” Helicopter unit

“Suspect’s doing something, hold for details” Helicopter unit

“Is that a grenade launcher?” Car unit

“MAYDAY, MAYDAY. We are hit! I repeat we are hit! We are going down on Brentwood…*whitenoise*” Helicopter unit

“Suspect just shot down helo 2, I repeat, helo 2 is down!” car unit

“All units be advised, apprehend the suspect by any means necessary. Use of extreme force is allowed.” Centre

Moments earlier

Pov Calla

*VROOOOOOOM*

This. Is. Fucking. AWESOME!

I love motorcycles!

I take a left turn, avoiding the other cars. I head north, towards New York.

I check my rear view mirror and see that the polic… pests are still pursuing me.

They ruined my reunion with Linda so no more mr nice girl.

Damn.

There is a helicopter following me. I can never lose them if I don’t do something about that.

There are two cars pursuing me on the same road, about one hundred meters behind me, but I hear sirens from other directions also.

I should have worn my earplugs… The sound of the bike’s engine is almost too much.

With my left hand, I grab the grenade launcher that still has one shot left in the magazine. I rotate my body to the left, keeping my right hand on the throttle and aim at the helicopter behind me.

I have to make this count.

*Swosh**BOOM*

The grenade hit the tail rotor of the helicopter, causing it to start spinning and losing altitude.

That’s that.

I keep accelerating on the road I’m on. It’s still dark and the scenery flashes by me. The houses are starting to thin out as it’s replaced with small patches of forested areas and grass fields.

I’m zigzagging between the two lanes that has traffic going to my direction, avoiding the cars. There are still car patrols behind me, the flashing blue lights are seen in my rear-view mirrors.

They are keeping up with me even though my speed is nearing 250km/h.

There are at least six patrol cars chasing me, and I’m sure there is many more trying to cut ahead of me and surround me.

I see a truck with a trailer in front of me going to the same direction as I.

I curve to the left lane, and when I’m passing it, I grab my pistol.

*BAM**VROOOM*

I shot its front left tire and accelerated in front of it.

I keep increasing my speed, and glimpse my mirror.

The driver lost control of the truck, and is trying to stop it.

The sudden braking causes the trucks trailer to turn sideways on the road, as the truck is stopping.

It came to a stop, blocking the road.

Now that they lost visual of me I take the next turn to right.

I need to dump this bike, and get some other ride to New York.

Shouldn’t be that hard, I’m thinking that I jump to some truck that has stopped for gas and get a ride that way or something like that.

It’s about 350 km to New York if I converted it from miles correctly so I intend to be there by the morning.

I think Mox said he went there also, so I contact him when I arrive to help me with accommodations.

And there’s a chance that he can help me find the reporter.

Two hours later

Pov Linda

“Damn! We lost her.” Simmons curses next to me.

There was a high speed chase but Calla seemed to have enough of it as she put an end to it.

She shot the helicopter down, then used a truck to block the road. That was the last we saw her.

The police teams are now going through the crime scene where the firefight took place. No, I guess it would be more accurate to say that the police teams are now going through the battlefield.

I’m on the eleventh floor inspecting what Calla left behind.

There is a camera and a mic pointed towards the building opposite of this so she was clearly surveilling something.

There were monitors, computer and weapons on the floor above this one.

And the police found a shot and burned TV on the elevator shaft which Calla used for her escape, I wonder what happened with that…

“And you two idiots. You had her at gun point but managed to fuck it up. You were instructed to call for backup if she really tried to escape with underground tunnels again!” Simmons berates the two officers that were positioned to the basement.

I wouldn’t blame them too much though. I knew that a few officers wouldn’t be enough to catch her. I’m just glad she refrained from killing any cops, though the helicopter crew is still on the ICU as their condition isn’t stable yet.

“What were we supposed to do? She staggered out of the elevator and was disoriented. We thought that…” The officer tries to defend his actions, but Simmons interrupts him.

“You thought what? We told you not to corner her and you two imbeciles ambushed her.” He continues. But I’m sure he too knows that they didn’t have time to call for backup. He’s just unloading his frustrations to them.

By the preliminary reports, it seems Calla took down 45 attackers by shooting or using traps. That’s five nine men squads. That’s a whole platoon worth of men.

At the twelfth floor, there was a blond man in a suit that was severely hurt. He will probably lose his legs and right eye because of the explosion.

I suspect that he is an agent or an operator of the organization that Calla is after. I have informed Brian and General Raven about the situation and the General seems to be taking this whole thing more seriously now.

Perhaps he realized that the people Calla is after means business.

He sent Brian to come here to help with the investigation and a team of analysts. Though I’m pretty sure Calla left the city, but she will surface somewhere. I just have to wait for a big ass gunfight but before that, I want to interrogate the blond man when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

Location undisclosed

Pov Handler

I’m the handler of 5xy. I’ve just given it its new instructions to terminate a member of China’s Central Committee. He is the one actively pushing for China to join the J.A.T.F.

I don’t know why the higher ups wants him dead, as it’s above my paygrade.

I think about the old-days, when we were still training the subject. It was a teenager then and we got to pick our targets for the training purposes.

We used to rent it out to others as it was simpler to find good targets that represented real situations like that and we got money out of it.

Simpler times…

*sigh*

Now I’m reading instructions that after this hit, the subject is to hunt and terminate one of ours that’s gone rogue. And another subject no less.

Subject 7xx.

I know nothing about it except it’s a female as its name implies. It sounds almost impossible that a subject would desert us as that’s how they are made.

I belong to an organization called Al-Avus, and Al-Avus belongs to the group that gives us our orders and the subjects. I’m not sure how many similar organizations there are like us, who’s task is to train and handle the subjects but I know there are more.

The group that gives us our orders calls themselves the Caturix movement, Caturix as in the war god of helvitii that later became known as Mars of the ancient Roman religion. I looked it up as I was curious, and wondered about the motives why the group became to be.

Every hit I have assigned to 5xy directly or indirectly caused the geopolitical situation to unstabilize in the region involved. And 5xy has never failed a termination yet, nor has it ever questioned its orders.

I don’t know what they have done to the subjects before they are delivered to us at the age of two but they are not normal, that much I know. I once got the chance to observe subject 3xy before it died, and came to the realization that it was similar to the Five-series but different. It wasn’t as advanced in some areas as 5xy and by advanced, I mean that it was little harder to train, its reaction time was little slower and it didn’t heal as fast. Though it was better in some areas too, though those thing could have nothing to do with their makings.

But it too never questioned orders, and that makes it sound highly unlikely that a subject has gone rogue. Well no matter, the Seven-series could be more advanced but 5xy has a lot more experience and the xy-models are trained to be deadlier that the xx-models.

5xx for example was trained to infiltrate the Mossad. We sent it to Israel when it was 14 years old and devised a perfect alias for it and gave it a ‘family’ so to speak that would pass Mossad’s background checks.

As I’m still its handler I know that it succeeded in its mission. Now it works for Mossad like any other their agents, waiting for our instructions. A sleeper cell.

So I’m not that worried that 5xy fails to terminate 7xx.

I just have to wait for it to finish its current assignment and then the hunting can begin.

Pov Calla

I dumped the motorcycle in a river and got on the ‘Amtrak’ train heading north. According the announcements this passes through New York.

I stole some clothes that someone had left just hanging outside their house. They are tight dark jeans and a red sweater.

I tied my hair up so that I’d look a little different and bought some cheap sunglasses from a kiosk that was open.

The sun is beginning to rise as I look through the window at the passing sceneries and sip the ‘cola’ bottle I bought.

It’s too sweet for my tastes. Drinkable things shouldn’t be sweet in my opinion.

The voice from the sound system just said that earlier stop was called Philadelphia, and I remember the place from the map when I studied it. It shouldn’t be long anymore.

I take my phone and decide to call Mox.

*Beep beep beep*

“Yeah” He answers.

“Mox? It’s Calla”

“Oh hey Calla. I’m glad you are all right. I saw the news. They said that there was a shooting and some explosions in your base.” He says. So it made it to the news, huh. I watched some news in my late television but they were kind of boring.

“I’m all right. I’m heading to New York and was wondering if you could give me a hand? I can pay, of course.” I ask him. I could probably manage alone but it is easier to ask for his assistance.

“I can help. As long its nothing like the shooting that took place.” He says.

I earlier got the feeling that Mox doesn’t even like guns so I’m not going to involve him in my bloodier businesses.

“I need a safe place to stay.” I say to him.

“I can do that. When do you arrive?” He asks.

“Little over an hour I think. And there is something else. I need to find a reporter of something called the New York Times” I mention the other thing I had in mind.

From what I gather, he knows New York so this is my best chance to find the reporter.

If I don’t find him, I have to start searching Brooklyn one house at a time and that could take too long.

“Sure, sure. Does this reporter have a name?”

“I don’t know. I know he has gone into hiding.” I say to him. I wish the man called ‘red’ or the blond dude whom I killed would have mentioned some names in their conversation.

“Okay. I see what I can do. Meet me in two-hours at the…” He tells me where to meet, and we say our goodbyes.

Now that I have some time to think, I recall what I learned at the base.

So, my enemies finally have a name.

The Caturix movement.

That makes my internal monologues a little simpler as I don’t have to refer to them as ‘enemies’ any more but it doesn’t help more than that.

I doubt I can just go around and asking people:’ Ever heard of the Caturix movement?’

The second thing is that I finally know the reason why I came to be, if I were to believe him.

I was ‘made’ to kill operatives.

What did he meant by the word ‘made’?

Was I not born like other people?

What am I then?

The Caturix movement created me?

Fine!

I’ll make them regret that they ever made me.

I’ll be the monster of their own making.

‘To hunt the hunters’ Is what he said to me.

Isn’t it the same thing as an apex predator.

A predator considered to be at the top of a food chain because it has no predators of its own.

A predator that has no natural predators in its ecosystem.

And according to one of the movies I tried to watch, but stopped as it made no sense:

a creature that should not feel guilty when it kills something weaker than itself.

In all my life, I have never felt guilt. When I thought I killed the officer I didn’t feel guilty, I just worried what Linda might think. I have killed many people in my life. In my missions when I was still with the ‘Caturix’ I killed a few people.

In my training, I killed many more. My trainers would bring me people to fight to the death as an exercise and I never felt guilt then.

When I killed my dog named ‘dog’ I felt bad but not guilty.

I killed tens of people during the attack to my base but I feel nothing. Am I supposed to feel something? I have never really thought about it.

I have known that people frown upon killing usually, but if it’s for your country, the killers are patriots.

If it’s for peace, they are heroes.

If it’s for their bosses they are loyal.

And if it’s for their self-interest, they are evil.

But now I have realized something.

There is no good and bad in the world. There is no evil. There isn’t white and black. There aren’t even shades of gray.

Humans created those concepts to survive in a pack. Humans created the thing called morality to bring order to the herd. But the truth is, evil isn’t wrong and killing for whatever reason is a part of nature.

The apex has no need for those things.

I’m not a pack animal. Now I’m not even sure I’m completely human.

Caturix will regret that they created me.

They want to kill me for whatever reason, but I will not simply roll over and die. They think they can just create things like me and get away with it. To use things like me for their own goals and ambitions.

To play god.

I will burn them down to their foundations. I will spill every drop of blood until they are drained dry and leave only ruins in my waste.

They will be a dark spot in human history. People will wonder what happened to them, and as time passes they turn into a legend that’s in the process of being forgotten.

*shatter*

As I think those things I accidently broke the bottle I was holding by squeezing it too hard.

“Are you all right?” A woman sitting on the other side of the corridor asks as she looks at my hand. There is little blood coming from my palm but it isn’t much.

“I’m fine.” I answer as I make a fist so that the blood doesn’t get my clothes dirty.

“You sure?” She continues. I’m not really in the mood for small talk so I just nod my head and turn to look out of the window.

Soon I’ll be in New York, Mox will help me find a place to stay and hopefully help me locate the reporter.

If I find the reporter I'll have him spill everything he knows, along with the location of the facilities and go check it out.

I’ll be sneaky and try to check it out without being noticed before I teach them the meaning of destruction.

I want to know what is inside of there. I want to know what he meant when he said that they created me and perhaps the answer lies in Brooklyn.

…

Pov Mox

It’s soon time for my appointment with Calla. I’m kind of glad she came to NYC as I grew fond of her. Though we aren’t anything alike. We both color outside the lines but even though we don’t belong to the world of regular people, our worlds aren’t the same.

I live in the grey. I live in the shadows. But Calla gives the feeling she is the shadow. But I doubt that she will ever come to hurt me as long as I don’t do something to her or betray her. I got the feeling she understood that I don’t like violence as she seemed to try and keep me out of those parts of her mission.

I’m still very interested what she’s after though.

Perhaps she is trying to unravel the North American Union?

Or the New World Order?

Or the Ust akil?

Perhaps she is an agent of Ust akil!?

As I ponder the possibilities I grab a white toga and wear it. I put on a fedora that goes nicely with it.

Security through obscurity.

There are many people always looking for me, here in New York especially. And now days when the government puts RFID chips in everything so they can track you, I cannot be too careful.

If I look eye catching and obvious they will think it can’t be me.

I leave my hide out that is in the hidden rooms under a bar. The stairs are long and dark as I walk them up. I admire the paintings I have managed to obtain in my time here.

The Degas looks lovely in this lighting.

I come to the backrooms of the bar and greet the bar owner. He is an Armenian man that came to America few years back. I was already using the rooms here when he opened the bar but we came to an agreement of my use of the rooms as I forged credentials for his son’s job interview.

I come to the streets of New York and start heading for the park.

Few heads turn to my direction, probably because of my clothing choice but this city is filled with weirdoes and crazies so they must think I’m one of them.

I walk the streets, continuously trying to spot if someone is following me.

Of all the places in the States, I like New York the best. The tall buildings surrounding me, the people and vendors who populate the roads and the brilliant skyline that is outlined by the skyscrapers and the Empire State building.

Not to mention this is the cultural capital of America filled with old buildings that are declared as landmarks and museums just waiting to be robbed.

I see the open park and Calla already waiting for me by the big tree.

She notices me and walks to my direction.

“Hey Mox. Good to see you.” She says.

Isn’t she going to comment on my clothes?

“Hey Calla. Good to see you are all right. Welcome to the big apple.” I say to her welcoming her to New York.

The news said that the shooting was big, and there were several explosions followed by short high-speed chase that ended with one helicopter down and a multiple collision caused by a truck that lost control.

“Big apple?” She asks, tilting her head.

“That means New York”

“Oh. Did you got a chance to look into the reporter.?”

It’s only been an hour since she mentioned it to me. Well I got some information.

“I found out that four of the New York Times employees haven’t been coming to work. One is at a vacation, one had an accident and was hospitalized and that leaves only two names. I think the reporter you are looking for is one of them.” I say to her what I have found out.

Isn’t she really going to say anything about my costume?

“What were the names?” She asks.

I guess not.

“Timothy Carter and Joslyn Everdome. Do you know is the reporter a man or woman?” I ask her.

She thinks for a while before answering. “They referred to the reporter as him so I think he’s a male.”

“So then it’s probably Timothy you are looking for. I check the usual hiding places in the city if I can locate him. I also have a place for you to stay. Follow me.” I say to her as I start heading to one of my hideouts.

I’m going to stop on the way though and make her buy some clothes because the ones she’s wearing now is a crime against humanity.

“What do I owe you?” She asks.

“Let’s just say that if I ever need your expertise’s, you’ll help me.”

I think it’s a good thing to have her owe me a favor, if I ever have need for her talents. I hope I never find myself in that situation though.

She agrees to the manner of payment as we walk the street down, her eyes rapidly turning from left to right, surveying the surroundings all time. Or just admiring the cityscape of NYC.