Spirit of Eagle

This is a prelude to Heart of Hawk - a short novella of mine.

From the Journal of Dr. Aaron Stancher �" Dated 21 September 2025

 

It has been said that Earth is our only hope left in this universe �" that we have nothing else. I am one of the people who believes otherwise �" but I've always been shown differently by my superiors. I keep telling them that the world's fate is to die, but they keep telling me that I'm full of it. So I've decided to keep my mouth shout from now on.

 

And I'll make a difference. If I can't make a new Earth, I'll simply save this one.

 

Feh. My forehead hits the desk with a dull 'thud' as I finish writing the latest entry to my journal. Yeah, I've just realised it too. I'm f*****g crazy, I know it. I carefully listen to my breathing, in, out, in, out, and yet it's moving no faster than I normally feel. I sit back up, and stare at the sanitary, white-washed ceiling. This is bullshit, I think to myself. I can't bloody well save the world �" what am I thinking? Looking back down at the paper that sits before me, I sigh and slide the black ballpoint pen back into it's holder, on the equally white desk. I like using pen and paper �" it's far better than these computers that the Company makes us use. Can't watch us, can't tell what we're saying...

 

With a smile, I pick up the small, black leather notebook, and flick back through the pages, reading the other entries again, a small habit of mine. Can't seem to shake it, ya know? Memories flicker back and forth before my eyes, from the first day that I started working for the company... I stifle a laugh, remembering how clumsy I was! I think I cost them more in replacing machinery than I have in project fees! Then to the day I got promoted to this project. I was so happy, so proud. At least, I thought I was. Another sigh escapes my lips, and I put the book into my desk, locking it tight.

 

A loud bang erupts through the room, causing me to jump a good... five feet into the air? I turn towards the door with a grimace. What do they want? Another bang. Oh, they want in all right...

 

“Stancher! Open this f*****g door! TSC Security!” My breathing suddenly speeds up, my heart rate almost doubling in panic. Now I'm worried �" hell, anyone would be in this sort of situation. A small, almost feral, growl escapes my lips, and I dive towards a tiny hidden draw under my desk, pulling out a snub-nosed revolver, tarnished steel glinting in the bright lighting of the room.

 

“Blow the door!” S**t. And I thought that I was worried before �" they really do want me... But is it dead or alive? I check the magazine �" it's full, and I've got another set of shots in my jacket pocket. Alright, I'm ready... I hope.

 

An explosion rocks the room, and then nothing. My eyes widen, and my body stays stock still. What's going on?

 

Tink, tink, tink, whssssh... GAS! So, they do want me dead... My mind and body suddenly whirl, the world hazing before me. It was some fast moving gas, a pungent aroma of almonds and chocolate filling the air. So... familiar... Then I laugh with the realisation. It was some gas, alright. But gas that I developed... Fuckwits, they don't know how good a scientist I am. While they put on their gas masks, I reach into the First Aid kit that rests underside my desk, and pull out a small needle. I flick the skin on my upper arm a couple of times, before pushing the needle in with a grimace. Once the syringe has been emptied, I sit back with a sigh of relief. What self-respecting arms scientist doesn't create an antidote for his own poison, eh? Fools. That'll cost them.

 

I laugh again, if a little psychotically. I've bought myself an hour in this room. That's how long the antidote will last, killing off any rogue poison cells that enter my body... Alright. Now to get out of here. They'll be waiting for my body to hit the ground. That's before they storm. In about... I check my watch and sigh. Ten seconds.

 

Nine...

 

I slide along one of the benches that curves around the centre of the room, keeping out of their sight.

 

Eight...

 

Looks like climbing out of a window won't work �" no windows to use. Whole place is underground. Looking up, I see that the vents are inaccessable too. Of course �" the place is designed like a fortress. Nobody gets in or out. Perfect place to assassinate someone, and make it look like an accident...

 

Seven...

 

They're getting ready now, prepping their gear for a quick assualt. They'll be in soon, another six seconds, give or take.

 

Six...

 

With a sigh, I look around the corner of the bench, seeing if I can move. They're not looking, so I hurriedly skirt the gap, getting by just as one of the men looks up from his gear.

 

Five...

 

They're nearly ready to storm. S**t, s**t, s**t, s**t!

 

Four...

 

I slide out of their view... They'll have to move around the benches to get at me. Looking over the white wood, I make a quick head count. Only five? They're not expecting resistance. They were looking to catch me off guard, weren't they?

 

Three...

 

Not long now, not long at all...

 

Two...

 

My foot pushes itself against the bench, and I steady myself, gripping the hilt with sweating hands. No amount of military training can prepare you for this. But that's their mistake... Hiring a former military scientist, and then trying to assassinate him. Feh.

 

One...

 

Any... second... now...

 

“Move, move, move!” The five move quickly through the room, gas masks at the ready. They kept their heads down, as if checking the ground for a body first. Typical. They simply assumed that I'd be nice and drop dead for them. The first person appears around the corner, and I raise the revolver at him, firing once. A red dot appears between his eyes, and he falls to the ground, blood pouring out of the hole and starting to fill up the gas mask with red liquid. The other four turn around at the sound, and I appear above the bench, firing three times, getting three kills, splattering the pristine white walls with human blood. Shouts of agony are quickly silenced by pure, sweet death. As his men fall around him, the commander raises his weapon, and fires a quick burst. I duck back down, and shout out in glee.

 

“No warning shots? I'm disappointed...” As if in retort, A few of the bottles that I kept on the bench suddenly shatter, raining liquid down on my hair, sulfuric acid burning my scalp to s**t. No, I can't scream in pain. It could be worse, that's what I'm telling myself. With a grimace, I stand up again and fire twice. The pain is a problem in itself, it seems, as it causes me to aim slightly off, and that's where my first stupid mistake happens. One of the shots grazes his right arm, causing him to shout out in pain. Good, good.

 

But what of the second roundz? Oh, that's the clincher. It just happens to hit in the one place I really didn't need it hitting. A small alarm sounds, and I curse under my breath. That's an alarm I don't want to hear, not when I'm still in the room at least. The piercing trill screams through the room, and I can't bear it any more. I'm gonna f*****g bail. I turn tail, and run as fast as I can, diving out the door.

 

Oh, you're curious about what I hit? Wait for it... Wait for it...

 

Crunch. Goodbye room. I turn around and sigh. I'd hit the “black-switch”. A safety measure implemented into every TSC room, in case a scientist discovered something he shouldn't, or his work was of no more worth to the Company. The mechanism was simple enough, and the result was simply horrifying. There's nothing left in there... except for a big f*****g block of steel. TSC will come and clean it up later, maybe replace the room with a lunchbar or something. I close my eyes slightly, and get to my feet.

 

His dying screams echo throughout my ears again and again. I killed the other four guys cleanly, but this... was something I shouldn't have done. I'm not a killer, I'm a f*****g scientist. I slip the rounds out of my pocket, and begin to reload the revolver. I may need it to get out. Looking around from where I'm standing, unfamiliar surrounds show themselves to me. I haven't stepped foot out of that room for six months now... And now I'm free... Free to get back to my son...

 

I run down the halls, trying to find my way to the elevator. Six months leaves you pretty disoriented, especially when everything looks the same. The walls are to be melding into one path, and everything ahead just looks the same as everything before. But I know it's not, I know that I'm making progress the further I run, and that's what keeps me moving, dissuades me from giving up. Past the guards, past the scientists in their uniformly white coats, and I'm laughing like a maniac the whole way. Even I don't understand why. But I know that it feels great!

 

I reach the elevator. Finally. Pressing the button to open it up, I clamber into the steel box, and start pressing the “G” button like a man possessed. But something feels wrong. I know that, in my gut, it can't be this easy. As the elevator slowly makes it's ascent to the ground floor, my worry begins to grow, and I start to shake profusely. Spitting on the ground, the elevator doors open, and I just drop to my knees, knowing that I have no hope left. Fifty, no, a hundred men are standing there, and all of them have eyes and rifles trained on one thing. Me.

 

“F**k.” Nice choice of last words there, Aaron.

 

I love you... Maranda... My wife.

 

I love you... Garreth... My son.

 

And it all went black...

 

From the Journal of Dr. Aaron Stancher �" Dated 21 September 2025 �" Post Script

 

They're after me... I know it. So for anyone who finds this, I must tell you these things. Look after my child. He may not look like it, but the fate of the world could quite possibly rest in his palms. My wife knows this, but he doesn't. He musn't. Not yet. It's too soon. He's only 13...

 

I hope it doesn't happen, to be honest. I'd rather it didn't. But if it does, then so be it. It's his fate, and one he must accept. One way or another, my son is the last resort for Earth and it's residents. I hope.