Prologue

A deadly betrayal in the heart of the Pentagon...

Prologue

 

April 2096

Only the rightful deserve to rule.

Yet usurpers abound in this cruel, predator society, seizing what was never theirs, only to complain when it is snatched back to their rightful owners. Their hypocrisy sickens me no end. To think they’re suffering, when in fact they have suffered but a mere fraction of what others have. To think their fear and worries actually matter, when many others barely even know if they will still be alive within the next few days. To think that they actually matter, when they shall all end up as broken, rotten bones in the end.

But all that matters not now. For the means of returning the world to how it should be lies within my grasp.

Soon they shall know of the fate that awaits them. They have sown the seeds of their destruction. Day by day, they lay the steps that lead up to their own gallows.

And I?

I am merely fate’s chosen executioner.

For I am among the rightful.

 

 

The full moon shone in the dark obsidian sky, bathing the Pentagon in a deep, eerie glow. Yet the chief security officer in charge saw none of this, as he reclined on his swivel chair. Albeit a swivel chair levitating half a metre off the ground. Before him, several holographic interactive screens beckoned from a control panel, displaying detailed projections of each ring of the Pentagon, rapidly updating every minute.

Officer Ricardo Marquez reached for the warm cup of espresso beside him and sipped slowly, relishing the gentle flavour on his tongue, and the soft aroma of the coffee. Yet even so, he didn’t bother to stifle a yawn as he stretched back.

Marquez, nearing fifty-nine and yet still at the peak of health, with senses as sharp as a blade, stared deep into the projections before him, as though they held all the secrets of life. He didn’t turn around, not even as he heard the barely audible sound of carefully muffled footfalls.

The sound of someone sneaking into the security room.

Officer Marquez half-smiled knowingly.

“You’re still as subtle as a tightrope-walking elephant, Johnny...but good try nonetheless.”

A long groan came up from behind him. Marquez turned around, just in time to see John Robson, his trainee, throw up his hands in exasperation.

John Robson had joined Marquez’s security firm barely three months ago. Tall, lean, and fast approaching twenty-eight, he was still a child at heart and loved all the fun things in life.

Which led him to bet that he could -  someday - best the almost superhuman sense of Officer Marquez.

“Come on!! I so snuck up on you! I finally did it! I finally beat you!”

Marquez laughed heartily.

“Say what you like, boy! Someone will do it one day, I’m sure, but most definitely, not tonight.”

It was just right then, that the power went out in the Pentagon, and darkness fell upon them like a curtain suddenly dropped.

Robson had just been reaching for his cup of hot chocolate on a nearby table. He jumped as darkness engulfed the two of them, clumsily spilling the hot chocolate all over the floor and on his arm. He winced and frantically groped around in the room for anything to clean the searing hot beverage off his arm.

Marquez raised an eyebrow, staring at the glowing control panel, still lit by its own, auxiliary power generators. He stared around at the holographic projectors before him, but was met only with blackness. Not even the silhouettes of anything could be seen.

Marquez reached up and tapped a small electronic device in his ear. A small microphone sleekly folded out of it.

“Yeoman, can you hear me? Come in, Officer Yeoman.”

He heard no reply. Officer Marquez spoke again, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Come in, Yeoman! Now!”

The door burst open, and Officer Cassius Yeoman, the third officer on duty that night, and Marquez’s long-time colleague, staggered in, his whole uniform stained slightly by sweat. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, gasping for breath.

“I think we have an intruder in the vicinity! I think I lost him, though...”

Marquez swore loudly. Despite his age, he suddenly rose quickly from his seat and rushed quickly into the dark corridor ahead. Behind him, Officer Yeoman calmly spoke to Robson, giving him instructions, as Robson looked around him, unsettled by the confusion.

Marquez walked briskly down the corridor. He reached into his pocket, fumbling around for something, and pulled out what appeared to be a pair of sunglasses. He slipped it on his face, and tapped a small button on its side. The sunglasses beeped, and instantly, two small lights shone, piercing into the darkness like two brilliant swords.

He turned at a junction and quickly found the door he was looking for. He kicked it open, and beheld the fuse box. Seeing the circuit breakers, he quickly grabbed them and yanked them down.

Marquez was rewarded with a loud whirring and the lights slowly came back on, illuminating every square inch of the Pentagon. In the light, something suddenly caught his eye, and he looked down, at the control box for the security cameras. He did not know a single thing about repairing the security cameras, but he had the feeling that something was amiss. Looking down, he could have sworn something new was attached to the wires of the control box, and that the wires had been connected differently. He shrugged and walked back to the security room. Once he reached the security room he quickly called up the projections to see what had happened prior to the power cut.

Something was strange.

Usually he himself would have appeared on the security cameras as he walked back to the security room. Yet all the cameras showed no sign of his appearance. 

In fact, the cameras displayed the exact same scene that had been shown about half an hour earlier.

Before the power cut.

The cameras were displaying a video loop.

Officer Marquez’s throat went dry. He turned around, just as the door opened.

Something on the floor caught Marquez's eye and he looked down. He saw John Robson spread-eagled on the ground, his mouth agape in surprise. A needle was buried deep inside his neck. In front of Marquez, Cassius Yeoman stood, with a snide grin on his face.

Marquez could barely open his mouth to shout before a hypodermic needle struck him in the throat, injecting a deadly mix of synthetic curare and tranquilizers. Marquez gazed up at Yeoman in total disbelief, before he sunk to his knees and crashed face first on the ground.

Cassius Yeoman smiled grimly. He knew he had nothing to fear. After all, the miniature pneumatic dart gun he had used barely made a sound as it fired. Most of all, he did not have to worry about the cameras recording his deed.

After all, there were no cameras in the security room itself.

Yeoman tapped on the security panel before him. Entering a password, he overrode the main security mainframe, to access the main communications network. Yeoman quickly entered a short message and transmitted it to various locations in the world.

To anyone else, the message would have been nothing, a random scramble of letters and numbers. Yet for the target locations of the message, the decoded text was already beginning to materialize on screens, in language clear to anyone.

THE ASCENDANCY OF THE HEIR IS AT HAND.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Tessa Low]

Your style is very much suited to the genre. You must be well-versed in thriller fiction because this reads exactly as I imagine a book of that genre to be (even though my exploration in that genre only goes as far as Artemis Fowl). I think you did a good job setting the scene, and the real killer (pun not intended) was how you managed to establish a false protagonist and turn him around in just this short passage, and without giving much away. You cranked up the suspense very well in the ascent towards the final statement.

While sound and thought-out, I though the characterisation was that slightest bit bland; the two protagonists had only three lines of proper dialogue, in which you explored only Robson's fun-loving nature (which I find a wee bit odd for someone working in a top-security organisation; didn't he have to pass personality tests?). Their dialogue could have gone on for a bit, in which the two characters could have chatted over something they normally would discuss on duty--else that bit of dialogue seems stilted and purely functional, meant to draw out the irony of a surprise attack and no more. Besides it helps lull the reader into a false sense of normalcy before BAM the attack. It's always good to smooth out actions so they don't look like plot devices but like things real people would actually do and say!

"Marquez, nearing fifty-two and yet still at the peak of health, with senses as sharp as a blade" -- I think it's "blades" since there's more than one "sense". Also, the entire second half (about his senses and health) could just be condensed to the part about his health. He does demonstrate his sharp senses right after this, so you don't have to mention it now.

[Undying Glory]

Thanks for that very detailed review Tessa! I'll keep your points in mind. Let's see if I can make up for it in the following chapters.

[Tessa Low]

It's only a small point about the dialogue and spicing the scene up before the tension begins to peak; the chapter still works very well without. :D

[Undying Glory]

haha and i've always wondered how to make characters suitably realistic, or should i even bother, when they're pretty much going to be terminated by the end of the chapter. that's been a real dilemma for me

[Tessa Low]

Readers appreciate when even your most minor are relatable and solid. I do, at least XD in some way it also does make the conflict initiation more striking.

[Valentine]

I didn't know you were getting into writing stories..this is good and I mean very good..keep it us girl and send itd to a publisher whgen finished..I lucked oudt..you may too..Never say never..Kathie

[Norma M Sutton]

Spooky start . . . creepy in so many ways lol, but 52 is NOT old lol ;P Just 4 years away for me

[Undying Glory]

Oops haha, sorry about that. Old is really a matter of perspective, not jut a number, I'm aware of that :)

[Norma M Sutton]

lol Yes it is lol. When I was . . . 20, I think, I stopped on my way to work to visit my mom in her classroom, she was teaching 4th or 5th that year. One of her students wanted to know if I was her daughter and proceeded to exclaim in shock "she's almost as old as YOU are". Mom was nearly 30 when I was born lol.