“If there was no UFO, then what was the point of the raid?”
“It’s simple,” the agent said. “To make it look like there was one.”
I’m not sure why I nodded. It’s not like I understood what was going on in the slightest.
“Think about it,” the agent continued. “The CIA conducts a clandestine operation that involves covering up a UFO landing. It goes horribly wrong, and all the agents die-“
“The agents?” I said. “My team were the ones that died.”
The agent nodded. “Yeah. And what uniforms were you wearing?”
I thought back. Suddenly, it made complete sense why they didn’t want us wearing our own uniforms.
“SAC gear,” I responded. “But that still doesn’t make any sense. Every agent should’ve been registered, right? We sure as hell weren’t.”
“That’s right,” the agent responded. “But it doesn’t matter,” he gestured towards an empty syringe sitting on the table. “Once the necrosis finishes, there would’ve been nothing but bones left. Nothing left to try and identify. It’s a real nasty concoction.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “So, the CIA backs a raid in order to conceal a potential UFO crash. The mission ends in disaster and everybody, including the cult members, die in an inexplicable way.”
The agent nodded. “The aftermath yields a burning question. Who… or what killed them?”
I sat back. The implication seemed so ridiculous it was comical.
“The aliens. The aliens liquefied everybody and escaped out into the world.” I responded.
The agent smirked. “Now you’re getting it.”
“I don’t I am,” I responded. “How do hostile aliens running amok benefit the CIA in any capacity?”
The agent poured himself some more liquor. “That part… I’ll admit it’s a bit complicated.”
And complicated it was. This is where his story veers off batshit territory. According to him, this whole debacle started years prior, with one man at the center of it all:
Jonas Kane
To the best of everybody’s knowledge, Kane was just a civilian. Not a former SEAL, Ranger, or anything to that effect.
In the span of just two months, he managed to gain the favor of a sizeable portion of the higher-ups at the CIA, effectively splitting the organization into factions. It didn’t take long for his side to start overwhelming the other. Stating that he essentially held the CIA in the palm of his hand wouldn’t have been a stretch.
So how does a regular guy manage to do all this?
Well, the why to that question was pretty obvious. The how was another story entirely.
“The 'antidote',” the agent said, holding up another one of the blue syringes. “I couldn’t tell you the scientific name, so we just call it the God Serum. Kane’s claim to fame.”
I half-scoffed, half-chuckled. “Read a lot of comics?”
“Still a teenager at heart,” he said. “That’s just my coping mechanism for all the atrocities I’ve committed, though.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not.
“So Kane developed this serum? By himself?”
The agent nodded. “That’s the way it seems.”
“Well what does it do exactly?”
Despite how dumb I thought the name was, it wasn’t terribly inaccurate. On top of immediately healing any injury or disease (like necrosis), the user essentially ascended into a superhuman state. How strong somebody could become depended on their own genetics. Their base physical attributes could be enhanced twenty-fold (at the minimum), all the way to a staggering fifty-five.
Slow-twitch muscle strength, striking power, speed, endurance, durability, you name it. It was the super-soldier serum on additional steroids. And from what they’ve seen so far, there haven’t been any discernible negative side effects.
Kane was also the only one who knew how to make it, and he wasn’t sharing his secrets. This gave him a stranglehold on just about the entire organization.
“Can’t the CIA just force the recipe out of him?” I asked. “You know, advanced torture techniques or something?”
“That’s an option, yeah.” the agent responded. “But… easier said than done. The upper limit of fifty-five fold enhancement only applies to the serum he’s giving us. Kane’s different from the rest of us. He’s on something else entirely. What I’m trying to say is… he’s unstoppable. Uncontrollable. Machine guns, snipers, explosives, tranquilizers, nothing does shit to him. If we’re Captain America, he’s fucking Superman. Nobody can force him to do anything.”
I shook my head. “This sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Are you hearing yourself?”
“I don’t disagree. But as absurd as it sounds, it’s the fucking truth. And isn’t that what you wanted to know? The truth?” the agent responded. “Anyways, that’s the how of this whole story. Kane wasn’t a scientist either. Up until 2018, he was registered as a traffic court lawyer in Oklahoma. We don’t know how the fuck he managed to do any of this. But the worst thing about this whole situation is that we don’t even know what he’s trying to do. What his endgame is.”
The agent stood up, lit a cigarette and began pacing.
“But it sure as hell probably isn’t anything good,” he said. “Combine this with the fact he’s got most of the CIA wrapped around his thumb, and we have a disaster on our hands.. He’s gaining more and more influence by the day. If he continues to go unchecked… well, you get it, don’t you?”
If the agent was telling the truth, then this was indeed a nightmare scenario. Evil Superman as world dictator, forcing the world to believe we were being attacked by aliens for unknown reasons. What a bright future.
“So what are you then?” I asked. “Leader of the anti-Kane faction or something?”
“Not the leader,” he said, shaking his head. “Just one of many moles inside Kane’s faction. But we all have the same goal. I’ll do anything to take him down.”
“Well,” I said, standing up. “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. Good luck. I’ll be heading out now.”
I knew he probably wasn’t going to just let me leave. I could tell that he was trying to recruit me for something from the get-go. But after hearing all of this, on top my entire team being killed…
Wait. I’d nearly forgot about that.
“My team’s dead, you know?” I said, giving him a death stare. “And you caused it. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a double agent or what. How the hell am I supposed to forgive that?”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” the agent responded. “But this is bigger than either of us. Bigger than anything you could imagine. If Kane gets his way, I reckon your team would’ve been fucked regardless. You don’t have to forgive me. All I’m asking is that you work with me for now. If we succeed, I don’t give a fuck what happens next. You can strangle me in my sleep for all that I care.”
He began stepping towards me.
“If you want your revenge, then you can have it. But there might not be a world for you to come back to.”
He extended his arm, implying that I shake his hand in agreement.
“C’mon. You never dreamed about playing the hero when you were a kid? This might be your only chance.”
I swatted his hand away.
“What the hell do you want me for anyways?” I responded. “I can’t even stop my team from dying. What good am I gonna be?”
It finally came out. I didn’t blame the agent. I really only had myself to blame. A tough pill to swallow for sure.
The agent paused for a moment. I couldn’t even look him in the eye at this point. I knew he’d be able to see the weakness behind my own.
Eventually, he held out his arm again.
“If I thought you weren’t worth recruiting, then why the hell am I trying so hard?” he asked. “C’mon. Make the death of your team worth something.”
“I’m still not shaking your hand,” I responded. “But tell me the plan. You guys do have a plan, right?”
The agent grinned. “Well… it’s a work in progress.”
“It’s what?
Instead of responding, he tossed me a jacket.
“I knew you’d say yes. Bundle up now. We’re headed over to Russia.”
---
Credits
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