slayer
08-07-2006, 04:36 PM
The following is a novel I'm working on, it will be adapted into a film (script will be written by me later on) so here you go (it isn't finished yet since I'm still starting the whole main plot)
The nearly blinding light shined in of Jack’s eyes. All he could make out was the pale green walls holding him prisoner inside a tiny room. The cold metal of the handcuffs holding him still in the chairs’ steel arm rests, and the tightness of the silver duct tape holding his legs together gave him the impression of being constrained by a boa constrictor squeezing itself against his already weakened body. He couldn’t move, and since he had just awakened from a deep sleep he was too stupid to talk, for the moment at least. The room’s door opened with a click and the footsteps echoed within every inch of the walls. The steady rhythm of feet stepping against the floor pounded in his head, the very monotony of it beating in his brain. It was clear it was only one man, but judging by the way he stepped he was rather tall. The steps could be heard approaching closer and closer until it stopped. The man pulled out a chair and sat in front of Jack.
Jack couldn’t see him clearly due to the high voltage light in front of Jack shoving its light through his pupils, making it nigh impossible to see the man before him, yet Jack knew one thing--before him was a man he could not possibly like. –This must feel rather uncomfortable to you- the man said, his voice commanding yet calm. Jack hated that in a man, he hated people who were too proud to see their own mistakes. Despite this, he somehow recalled that voice from somewhere deep in his memory. -Perhaps if we looked at each other eye to eye- continued the man, -It would be much easier if your light bulb wasn’t burning my skull asshole- Jack said with the most sarcastic voice he could make out, even though he was still stupefied by the long sleep. The man reached his hand out to turn off the light. Jack’s eyes felt relieved to be rid of the intense light, but the immediate change made them hurt a little, everything went from blurry to extremely sharp for Jack, he could see it all, even the man sitting right in front of his face, and he knew who he was, how could he ever forget the man that gave him… gave him his what? Jack knew who he was but he couldn’t remember from where or from what; it was all blank, and he wanted shout out who?, What?, When? -You have been taken against your will, now I will ask you to cooperate with me to your fullest and if you restrain yourself from asking any questions then this talk we are about to have will go along more smoothly- said the man sitting in front of him, at last Jack managed to remember his name, and even his job, but why?
The man, who was sitting in front of him, was CIA agent Michael Kenneth, about 47 years old with brown hair giving way to gray, eyes of a hazel color which had a kind of piercing quality as if he was able looking deep into your soul. His skin was starting to lose its tone due to his old age and bags where forming below his eyes. He had a large yet thin nose, and he was dressed in a black Armani suit. His hands where both holding a sealed folder which had the words confidential stamped on it in bright red ink, Jack knew whenever that word appeared on a file, it would never bring anything good, not to him at least. Since the last time he opened a file like that he ended up…he couldn’t remember what happened the last time he opened a file labeled confidential yet it wasn’t so long ago. Michael set the folder on top of a metal table which was located to their left; and pulled out a bunch of papers, straightened them a bit and then slammed them into the table again so the information would be understandable for Jack. In the top paper was some sort of ID with a photograph included, it was a spy’s bio, and stamped in big bold letter it read MIA.
–Recognize him? - Said Michael, his eyes looking into Jack’s
–No, I don’t- said Jack; he was starting to feel better. –Maybe this will refresh your memory- Michael said as he pulled out a tape recorder from his suit’s interior jacket and pushed play. The sound of static filled the small confines of his prison, and then there it was a voice so familiar it rang every bell in jack’s mind as he heard it, it was the voice of the recently mentioned spy. In that familiarly stoic voice, it said, “I have acquired the information from the Russians; my message will be brief since I do not know who is listening to my words as I speak. The Russians are planning to… Who is that? Oh Jack it’s only you. What the hell are you doing, put your weapon down! Oh my god….” there was a faint gunshot followed by static, and that was the end of the message.–You killed him Jack, you betrayed your partner, endangered the mission, went missing, and now you think you can walk into the American embassy in Moscow and not be brought directly to me, how stupid do you think I am? - Michael yelled, his white skin nearly turned red, his hair slightly messed and a few sweat drops pouring down his face.
–On a scale from 1 to 10, I think you’re a 9.5 but that’s just me. – Jack tried to shake the tape off his legs but it was sealed tight and he had no chance of escaping. Still, he tried to concentrate a little bit and studied the door located behind Michael’s and predicted that it would be guarded by two guards with an order to shoot to kill if he managed to leap out of there, and they would also come in here and finish the job if he didn’t cooperate with the agency. This prediction surprised him, since he had never been able to analyze a situation in such a short time. It only took him a few seconds to find out that if he wanted out of this claustrophobic room he had to agree to everything that Michael said. He had no idea why he was strapped to a chair against his will, all he knew is that he had information as to why he had killed this so-called spy, but he couldn’t quite remember yet. –I see you finally figured out the problem- said Michael as though he had read every single one of Jack’s thoughts; he moved his arm upwards and moved his hand downward his fingers feeling his brown hair and fixing it a little, he pulled out of his jacket pocket a very thin syringe which contained about two and a half milliliters of a neon green substance. Somehow Jack recognized this mystery substance and his eyes widened in fear, his jaw tightened as he struggled to set himself free, but every time he tried to, it proved useless, he was trapped. Trapped as though he was living a nightmare, a nightmare that he would feel within every inch of his body, once that syringe poured its neon green fluid inside of his veins he would not be able to think or act he would be a slave, a slave to the drug.
Michael removed the plastic cap from the syringes needle and moved his arm downward in a fast strike towards Jack’s eyes. It pierced him below his lower eyelid and Michael pushed the plunger with his thumb and as it slowly went down so did the neon green fluid, it entered Jack’s system and caused his whole body to go numb, his sight was starting to blur and everything began to loose its shape to him. He witnessed as the last drop of fluid went into his body and he saw how Michaels face began to blur more and more until it looked like a smudged painting, he couldn’t make out the colors anymore and it all became a dull gray. Michael got up from his chair, walked towards the iron table, picked up the files he had taken out, placed them back into their folder and walked back to face Jack. He began to talk in a slow voice so Jack could understand him. Even though Jack could not speak, see or move he was able to listen clearly, and so he did, he was screwed either way.
-You’ve been injected with a substance called Pecrophil, once injected into the optical nerve it travels through your blood stream, affecting every inch of your body, causing your muscles to stiffen so they cannot move and tuning down all of your senses with the exception of your hearing, and this way you will be forced to listen to every word I say.
Once you exit this room you will not ask any questions to the people you find along your way to the exit of this building. If you attempt to return to this location in order to find us your time will be wasted, for this location has been selected by a computer and it shall never be used twice. Inside your coat pocket you will find a card, the card will have phone number written on it, do not attempt to trace the number for we know you are capable of doing so. If you decide to call the number you will receive a set of instructions, you must follow these instructions in order to contact us. We expect your fullest cooperation, and I am glad to welcome you back to the agency, agent Colt.-
Indeed Jack knew Michael, since he never really told him his last name so they must have met in a previous occasion, but no maybe they didn’t, maybe the people Michael was working for had pulled out all of his biographical data, and showed it to Michael, either way he would have known his last name just by reading his birth certificate. He tried hard to remember the least he could, but all his attempts failed, then the side effects of the Pecrophil began to kick. Jack was starting to feel drowsy, his eyelids started to feel heavier and heavier and he could no longer keep them open, they closed shut and his mind suddenly stopped thinking. He was falling asleep, and he knew that even with the least amount of sleep he would dream about moments which felt so real to him, like if he was experiencing some sort of Déjà Vu, but didn’t even remember if he had lived said dreams or were they truly memories. He hated falling asleep for that is when he proved to most vulnerable to the unknown ghosts of his past.
The images danced in Jack’s mind to a silent tune, like several clips of film played randomly with no plot at all. That was until his mind finally figured out a part of the puzzle. He saw this memory as though he where viewing a film, in which he was the protagonist.
He was sitting on a metal chair which was a combination of the color gray and rust, he wasn’t strapped to it so it meant he had been there by his own will, the image was silent for a second and a few seconds later a voice was heard mixed with the shuffling of papers, whoever it was he was out of the picture and the only thing demonstrating his presence there was his voice. The man’s voice was deep and he spoke in a language which at first was all noises and clicks to jack but then it turned into clean Russian. The man spoke these words –Your collaboration has been very helpful to us, now I will present to you my end of the bargain, tell god, he has nothing to worry about- Jack got violently up from his chair and rushed towards the man, but a gunshot was heard before he could reach him and a loud thump came after it, Jack stood still as the dead body of the man lay in front of him with a puddle of blood forming from the blood which was leaking out of the bullet hole in his head. After that it all started to blur and fade into the darkness, and again the dancing images began their never ending show.
Jack’s eyes opened violently as he awakened from his deep sleep, he was still sitting in the chair which his strapped into when Michael interrogated him but this time he felt free instead of constricted. He lowered his sight to find out that the silver duck tape which held his arms still was no longer there and that his arms where no longer cuffed to the arm rests. He looked at his left wrist and noticed the brand new digital watch strapped into it, the time it marked was 2:30 in the afternoon. He walked cautiously towards the door which was located right in front of him, his steps where as quite as a mouse, as to not raise any suspicion that he had awakened. Since he still remembered the two guards which were waiting outside the door, he had no weapons so he would just have to use his fists, if things got worse once he stepped outside of the cell like room.
He grasped the door handle and twisted it slowly; all he could hear were the barely silent clicks of the bolts rearranging to unlock the door. He noticed no sign of moment from the other side of the door, and came to a fast conclusion, no one was there. He walked into the wide hallway and he indeed saw that no one was there. He was the only soul standing in the hallway, and to his surprise there was a light at the very end of. The light at the end of the tunnel, but he wasn’t dead. He walked towards it, accompanied by the echoes of his footsteps which bounce off the pale green walls which resembled those of the previous room. As he got closer to the light he could hear the sounds of civilization emerging from it, growing louder and louder every time he walked closer to it. As he finally reached the light he was blinded but soon his eyes adapted, and he could see the steps to freedom.
He was in the middle of what seemed to look like a subway station, preferably Times Square, but it wasn’t Times Square, heck he didn’t know where the hell he was. He scanned the area rapidly and he didn’t make out anything suspicious over the vast crowd of business men, stoned teenagers, romantic couples or the common loners. He looked down to see his feet and noticed his black shoes, he didn’t remember whether he had bought them or received them as a gift, and he didn’t care. He walked towards the revolving door which worked as both the entrance and the exit to the metro station. As he approached it a man bumped into him, spilling his frozen coffee all over Jack’s black sweater, he did not mind this though. He helped the man by picking up his backpack and once he handed it to him, the man said something that caught Jack’s attention “May God go with you”. God all of a sudden that word had another meaning to Jack but what the hell was it, why couldn’t he remember. Why couldn’t he be sitting on his couch in front of his widescreen TV and be watching a baseball game like any other American. Instead he had to be taken against his will while he was still sleeping and then forced to accept a mission he didn’t even know all the details about. –What fucking absurd world we live in- said Jack out loud, no one listened to him except a couple of people, one of them even yelled out amen, to this statement. Jack walked towards the revolving door and leaned against it; he moved along with it and exited towards the crowded city which would somehow reveal all the answers to him when the time came.
Until then he had to obey and follow a set of rules which not even he could understand, like an elementary schoolboy given mathematical equations during his first day at school.
-What a fucked up world we are living in indeed- he said to himself again.
The lights dimmed in the messy bathroom, walls decorated with spit and graffiti from the various gangs which cam there, your common street restaurant bathroom. The tiles where broken or cracked, the pipes were being consumed by the rust that gathered around them, and water was leaking from the tine holes in their structure. The sink mirror was smashed in the top right corner and had “Bite me” written on it with permanent ink, it seemed as it had been written there a long time ago but nobody cleaned it. The toilets where dirty or out of order, and the air was filled with a combination of piss and alcohol, it was the most disgusting place you could ever find. The door which served as an entrance to the bathroom opened with a creak, and in walked a tall man. His brown hair was thick and messy, his eyes nearly open as though he had just awakened from a deep sleep. He was wearing a gray hooded sweat shirt which was about twice his size, his hands where hiding in its pockets. He wore black baggy pants, and was about 26 or 27 years old.
He walked towards the sinks and stood in front of the last one at the right end, he just stood there, not moving a finger, staring at his reflection in the dirty mirror, humming a spy tune, and whispering words here and there. A statue to his own thoughts, in his never changing pose he began to analyze the room, with out moving his sight from his reflection, his senses of sight, hearing and smell highly trained to detect any anomaly in the perfect peace that surrounded that nasty place. All of a sudden like the thunder after the lightning a cell phone began ringing, its tune annoying to the mans ears but persuasive enough to make him pull out his right hand from his pocket which was holding the phone, which vibrated and flashed along with the tune. It was started to become annoying to his ears, so he answered the call, and on the other end of the phone we could only hear the breath of a man. It remained exactly like that for a couple of seconds, no sound what so ever in the room, not from the man in the grey sweat shirt and neither from the man on the other end of the phone, that was until he whispered the following words “Yea tough I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me..” These words triggered something in the man’s brain and his eyes opened as though he had been violently awakened from a dream, he opened his mouth but words didn’t come out, and so he listened to the instructions given to him by the man on the other end of the phone.
-What I am about to tell you is restricted information that only you may posses. Recently the CIA has contacted former SFD agent Jonathan Colt, now as you may already know this brings certain problems to the SFD itself, and with this comes the objective of you mission. You will track down and kill Jonathan Colt by any means necessary. We cannot afford any information to be leaked. The SFD is counting on you…Jackal-
There was no longer a man at the other end of the phone instead there was a dial tone which rhythmically played in the man’s ear. He turned off his phone and placed it back in his pocket, he looked as though he had never received the call. He continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror, what was he, man or machine?
He pulled out his left hand this time, which was holding a small metal case, its contents rattled as he placed them on top of the sink counter. He opened the small metal case and inside where grey and blue pills, narcotics of some sort. He took one of them and slipped into his mouth, where he swallowed it without any water; he gagged as it went down his esophagus. His sleepy eyes suddenly changed, they looked as though he where high, sweat started to pour from his forehead but he did not mind.
He closed the metal case and placed it back in his pocket along with his hand. He turned around and exited the room. This man had just become another player in the game, but what team was he on. What team did “The jackal” belong to? The answer would come sooner or later.
The sun shined into Jack’s eyes he had been walking for a very long time and notice that he was no longer in Russia, somehow they had brought him to America, but he couldn’t remember. He was getting sick of not knowing all the answers. He replayed his “meeting” with Michael in his head, and then it hit him. He had been told that in his coat pocket he would find a card with a phone number printed on it, so he looked inside his pocket, and indeed there it was. He rushed down the streets in order to find a payphone, it seemed kind of strange the way he couldn’t find one, or he did but it was being used. He did find one and rushed towards it so no one else could use it before him. He dialed the numbers and waited for someone to pick up.
He waited for over ten minutes, when a voice came from the other end of the phone. It told him that he was talking on a clean phone line and that his phone conversation had no time limit. –I have some questions- Jack said; the man on the other end of the phone didn’t reply to this, he just kept giving out instructions for Jack to carry out, numbers to dial, and the works. That was until someone else went on the phone.
-Good evening Jack, I am special agent DuPont. - stated the man on the other end of the phone, he had a French like name but no accent came from his voice as he pronounced the words in a smooth and cool way.
-Where is Michael?-
-Michael is unavailable at the moment; you will do exactly as I say…
-I didn’t come here to talk to some French wannabe, bye-
-I expect you don’t want to talk to the five snipers that are waiting for you outside either-
Jack was taken by surprise, he was cornered like an animal, and now there was no escape. DuPont could have been bluffing but just in case Jack slightly turned his head and stared at one of the buildings facing him. Nothing happened for a few seconds, until Jack noticed a blink of light reflecting from what seemed to be the glass of the scope.
-Shit! - He yelled to himself
-I told you. Once you’ve entered a mission there is no way out. Now if you take a look to your right you will find a coffee shop, after we are done talking go there, order a banana frappuchino and a black coffee, and sit down at one of the tables.
-Why don’t we get down to business? - Jack said in an annoyed tone, he was sick of listening to DuPont’s babbling which seemed to go nowhere. Jack had only one thing in mind and that was figuring out why he was in this situation, and ordering a man’s coffee didn’t seem promising enough.
-Well, I can’t talk seriously to man if I don’t look at him straight into the eye, now go on and get what I order, or would you prefer a bullet hole in the middle of your forehead? –
Jack sighed and hanged up the phone, he walked towards the coffee shop and as soon as he was in front of the door he noticed that the logo was similar to that to the one located in the cup of coffee he made a man drop at the subway station. Was this all related, or was it mere coincidence? A mayor headache began invading Jack’s mind, his eyes closed in pain and he placed his hand over his head, a single voice flooded his mind which whispered the following “Don’t you dare say you don’t love me” the voice was that of a young woman, but Jack couldn’t remember her, and nor did he care to.
The nearly blinding light shined in of Jack’s eyes. All he could make out was the pale green walls holding him prisoner inside a tiny room. The cold metal of the handcuffs holding him still in the chairs’ steel arm rests, and the tightness of the silver duct tape holding his legs together gave him the impression of being constrained by a boa constrictor squeezing itself against his already weakened body. He couldn’t move, and since he had just awakened from a deep sleep he was too stupid to talk, for the moment at least. The room’s door opened with a click and the footsteps echoed within every inch of the walls. The steady rhythm of feet stepping against the floor pounded in his head, the very monotony of it beating in his brain. It was clear it was only one man, but judging by the way he stepped he was rather tall. The steps could be heard approaching closer and closer until it stopped. The man pulled out a chair and sat in front of Jack.
Jack couldn’t see him clearly due to the high voltage light in front of Jack shoving its light through his pupils, making it nigh impossible to see the man before him, yet Jack knew one thing--before him was a man he could not possibly like. –This must feel rather uncomfortable to you- the man said, his voice commanding yet calm. Jack hated that in a man, he hated people who were too proud to see their own mistakes. Despite this, he somehow recalled that voice from somewhere deep in his memory. -Perhaps if we looked at each other eye to eye- continued the man, -It would be much easier if your light bulb wasn’t burning my skull asshole- Jack said with the most sarcastic voice he could make out, even though he was still stupefied by the long sleep. The man reached his hand out to turn off the light. Jack’s eyes felt relieved to be rid of the intense light, but the immediate change made them hurt a little, everything went from blurry to extremely sharp for Jack, he could see it all, even the man sitting right in front of his face, and he knew who he was, how could he ever forget the man that gave him… gave him his what? Jack knew who he was but he couldn’t remember from where or from what; it was all blank, and he wanted shout out who?, What?, When? -You have been taken against your will, now I will ask you to cooperate with me to your fullest and if you restrain yourself from asking any questions then this talk we are about to have will go along more smoothly- said the man sitting in front of him, at last Jack managed to remember his name, and even his job, but why?
The man, who was sitting in front of him, was CIA agent Michael Kenneth, about 47 years old with brown hair giving way to gray, eyes of a hazel color which had a kind of piercing quality as if he was able looking deep into your soul. His skin was starting to lose its tone due to his old age and bags where forming below his eyes. He had a large yet thin nose, and he was dressed in a black Armani suit. His hands where both holding a sealed folder which had the words confidential stamped on it in bright red ink, Jack knew whenever that word appeared on a file, it would never bring anything good, not to him at least. Since the last time he opened a file like that he ended up…he couldn’t remember what happened the last time he opened a file labeled confidential yet it wasn’t so long ago. Michael set the folder on top of a metal table which was located to their left; and pulled out a bunch of papers, straightened them a bit and then slammed them into the table again so the information would be understandable for Jack. In the top paper was some sort of ID with a photograph included, it was a spy’s bio, and stamped in big bold letter it read MIA.
–Recognize him? - Said Michael, his eyes looking into Jack’s
–No, I don’t- said Jack; he was starting to feel better. –Maybe this will refresh your memory- Michael said as he pulled out a tape recorder from his suit’s interior jacket and pushed play. The sound of static filled the small confines of his prison, and then there it was a voice so familiar it rang every bell in jack’s mind as he heard it, it was the voice of the recently mentioned spy. In that familiarly stoic voice, it said, “I have acquired the information from the Russians; my message will be brief since I do not know who is listening to my words as I speak. The Russians are planning to… Who is that? Oh Jack it’s only you. What the hell are you doing, put your weapon down! Oh my god….” there was a faint gunshot followed by static, and that was the end of the message.–You killed him Jack, you betrayed your partner, endangered the mission, went missing, and now you think you can walk into the American embassy in Moscow and not be brought directly to me, how stupid do you think I am? - Michael yelled, his white skin nearly turned red, his hair slightly messed and a few sweat drops pouring down his face.
–On a scale from 1 to 10, I think you’re a 9.5 but that’s just me. – Jack tried to shake the tape off his legs but it was sealed tight and he had no chance of escaping. Still, he tried to concentrate a little bit and studied the door located behind Michael’s and predicted that it would be guarded by two guards with an order to shoot to kill if he managed to leap out of there, and they would also come in here and finish the job if he didn’t cooperate with the agency. This prediction surprised him, since he had never been able to analyze a situation in such a short time. It only took him a few seconds to find out that if he wanted out of this claustrophobic room he had to agree to everything that Michael said. He had no idea why he was strapped to a chair against his will, all he knew is that he had information as to why he had killed this so-called spy, but he couldn’t quite remember yet. –I see you finally figured out the problem- said Michael as though he had read every single one of Jack’s thoughts; he moved his arm upwards and moved his hand downward his fingers feeling his brown hair and fixing it a little, he pulled out of his jacket pocket a very thin syringe which contained about two and a half milliliters of a neon green substance. Somehow Jack recognized this mystery substance and his eyes widened in fear, his jaw tightened as he struggled to set himself free, but every time he tried to, it proved useless, he was trapped. Trapped as though he was living a nightmare, a nightmare that he would feel within every inch of his body, once that syringe poured its neon green fluid inside of his veins he would not be able to think or act he would be a slave, a slave to the drug.
Michael removed the plastic cap from the syringes needle and moved his arm downward in a fast strike towards Jack’s eyes. It pierced him below his lower eyelid and Michael pushed the plunger with his thumb and as it slowly went down so did the neon green fluid, it entered Jack’s system and caused his whole body to go numb, his sight was starting to blur and everything began to loose its shape to him. He witnessed as the last drop of fluid went into his body and he saw how Michaels face began to blur more and more until it looked like a smudged painting, he couldn’t make out the colors anymore and it all became a dull gray. Michael got up from his chair, walked towards the iron table, picked up the files he had taken out, placed them back into their folder and walked back to face Jack. He began to talk in a slow voice so Jack could understand him. Even though Jack could not speak, see or move he was able to listen clearly, and so he did, he was screwed either way.
-You’ve been injected with a substance called Pecrophil, once injected into the optical nerve it travels through your blood stream, affecting every inch of your body, causing your muscles to stiffen so they cannot move and tuning down all of your senses with the exception of your hearing, and this way you will be forced to listen to every word I say.
Once you exit this room you will not ask any questions to the people you find along your way to the exit of this building. If you attempt to return to this location in order to find us your time will be wasted, for this location has been selected by a computer and it shall never be used twice. Inside your coat pocket you will find a card, the card will have phone number written on it, do not attempt to trace the number for we know you are capable of doing so. If you decide to call the number you will receive a set of instructions, you must follow these instructions in order to contact us. We expect your fullest cooperation, and I am glad to welcome you back to the agency, agent Colt.-
Indeed Jack knew Michael, since he never really told him his last name so they must have met in a previous occasion, but no maybe they didn’t, maybe the people Michael was working for had pulled out all of his biographical data, and showed it to Michael, either way he would have known his last name just by reading his birth certificate. He tried hard to remember the least he could, but all his attempts failed, then the side effects of the Pecrophil began to kick. Jack was starting to feel drowsy, his eyelids started to feel heavier and heavier and he could no longer keep them open, they closed shut and his mind suddenly stopped thinking. He was falling asleep, and he knew that even with the least amount of sleep he would dream about moments which felt so real to him, like if he was experiencing some sort of Déjà Vu, but didn’t even remember if he had lived said dreams or were they truly memories. He hated falling asleep for that is when he proved to most vulnerable to the unknown ghosts of his past.
The images danced in Jack’s mind to a silent tune, like several clips of film played randomly with no plot at all. That was until his mind finally figured out a part of the puzzle. He saw this memory as though he where viewing a film, in which he was the protagonist.
He was sitting on a metal chair which was a combination of the color gray and rust, he wasn’t strapped to it so it meant he had been there by his own will, the image was silent for a second and a few seconds later a voice was heard mixed with the shuffling of papers, whoever it was he was out of the picture and the only thing demonstrating his presence there was his voice. The man’s voice was deep and he spoke in a language which at first was all noises and clicks to jack but then it turned into clean Russian. The man spoke these words –Your collaboration has been very helpful to us, now I will present to you my end of the bargain, tell god, he has nothing to worry about- Jack got violently up from his chair and rushed towards the man, but a gunshot was heard before he could reach him and a loud thump came after it, Jack stood still as the dead body of the man lay in front of him with a puddle of blood forming from the blood which was leaking out of the bullet hole in his head. After that it all started to blur and fade into the darkness, and again the dancing images began their never ending show.
Jack’s eyes opened violently as he awakened from his deep sleep, he was still sitting in the chair which his strapped into when Michael interrogated him but this time he felt free instead of constricted. He lowered his sight to find out that the silver duck tape which held his arms still was no longer there and that his arms where no longer cuffed to the arm rests. He looked at his left wrist and noticed the brand new digital watch strapped into it, the time it marked was 2:30 in the afternoon. He walked cautiously towards the door which was located right in front of him, his steps where as quite as a mouse, as to not raise any suspicion that he had awakened. Since he still remembered the two guards which were waiting outside the door, he had no weapons so he would just have to use his fists, if things got worse once he stepped outside of the cell like room.
He grasped the door handle and twisted it slowly; all he could hear were the barely silent clicks of the bolts rearranging to unlock the door. He noticed no sign of moment from the other side of the door, and came to a fast conclusion, no one was there. He walked into the wide hallway and he indeed saw that no one was there. He was the only soul standing in the hallway, and to his surprise there was a light at the very end of. The light at the end of the tunnel, but he wasn’t dead. He walked towards it, accompanied by the echoes of his footsteps which bounce off the pale green walls which resembled those of the previous room. As he got closer to the light he could hear the sounds of civilization emerging from it, growing louder and louder every time he walked closer to it. As he finally reached the light he was blinded but soon his eyes adapted, and he could see the steps to freedom.
He was in the middle of what seemed to look like a subway station, preferably Times Square, but it wasn’t Times Square, heck he didn’t know where the hell he was. He scanned the area rapidly and he didn’t make out anything suspicious over the vast crowd of business men, stoned teenagers, romantic couples or the common loners. He looked down to see his feet and noticed his black shoes, he didn’t remember whether he had bought them or received them as a gift, and he didn’t care. He walked towards the revolving door which worked as both the entrance and the exit to the metro station. As he approached it a man bumped into him, spilling his frozen coffee all over Jack’s black sweater, he did not mind this though. He helped the man by picking up his backpack and once he handed it to him, the man said something that caught Jack’s attention “May God go with you”. God all of a sudden that word had another meaning to Jack but what the hell was it, why couldn’t he remember. Why couldn’t he be sitting on his couch in front of his widescreen TV and be watching a baseball game like any other American. Instead he had to be taken against his will while he was still sleeping and then forced to accept a mission he didn’t even know all the details about. –What fucking absurd world we live in- said Jack out loud, no one listened to him except a couple of people, one of them even yelled out amen, to this statement. Jack walked towards the revolving door and leaned against it; he moved along with it and exited towards the crowded city which would somehow reveal all the answers to him when the time came.
Until then he had to obey and follow a set of rules which not even he could understand, like an elementary schoolboy given mathematical equations during his first day at school.
-What a fucked up world we are living in indeed- he said to himself again.
The lights dimmed in the messy bathroom, walls decorated with spit and graffiti from the various gangs which cam there, your common street restaurant bathroom. The tiles where broken or cracked, the pipes were being consumed by the rust that gathered around them, and water was leaking from the tine holes in their structure. The sink mirror was smashed in the top right corner and had “Bite me” written on it with permanent ink, it seemed as it had been written there a long time ago but nobody cleaned it. The toilets where dirty or out of order, and the air was filled with a combination of piss and alcohol, it was the most disgusting place you could ever find. The door which served as an entrance to the bathroom opened with a creak, and in walked a tall man. His brown hair was thick and messy, his eyes nearly open as though he had just awakened from a deep sleep. He was wearing a gray hooded sweat shirt which was about twice his size, his hands where hiding in its pockets. He wore black baggy pants, and was about 26 or 27 years old.
He walked towards the sinks and stood in front of the last one at the right end, he just stood there, not moving a finger, staring at his reflection in the dirty mirror, humming a spy tune, and whispering words here and there. A statue to his own thoughts, in his never changing pose he began to analyze the room, with out moving his sight from his reflection, his senses of sight, hearing and smell highly trained to detect any anomaly in the perfect peace that surrounded that nasty place. All of a sudden like the thunder after the lightning a cell phone began ringing, its tune annoying to the mans ears but persuasive enough to make him pull out his right hand from his pocket which was holding the phone, which vibrated and flashed along with the tune. It was started to become annoying to his ears, so he answered the call, and on the other end of the phone we could only hear the breath of a man. It remained exactly like that for a couple of seconds, no sound what so ever in the room, not from the man in the grey sweat shirt and neither from the man on the other end of the phone, that was until he whispered the following words “Yea tough I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me..” These words triggered something in the man’s brain and his eyes opened as though he had been violently awakened from a dream, he opened his mouth but words didn’t come out, and so he listened to the instructions given to him by the man on the other end of the phone.
-What I am about to tell you is restricted information that only you may posses. Recently the CIA has contacted former SFD agent Jonathan Colt, now as you may already know this brings certain problems to the SFD itself, and with this comes the objective of you mission. You will track down and kill Jonathan Colt by any means necessary. We cannot afford any information to be leaked. The SFD is counting on you…Jackal-
There was no longer a man at the other end of the phone instead there was a dial tone which rhythmically played in the man’s ear. He turned off his phone and placed it back in his pocket, he looked as though he had never received the call. He continued to stare at his reflection in the mirror, what was he, man or machine?
He pulled out his left hand this time, which was holding a small metal case, its contents rattled as he placed them on top of the sink counter. He opened the small metal case and inside where grey and blue pills, narcotics of some sort. He took one of them and slipped into his mouth, where he swallowed it without any water; he gagged as it went down his esophagus. His sleepy eyes suddenly changed, they looked as though he where high, sweat started to pour from his forehead but he did not mind.
He closed the metal case and placed it back in his pocket along with his hand. He turned around and exited the room. This man had just become another player in the game, but what team was he on. What team did “The jackal” belong to? The answer would come sooner or later.
The sun shined into Jack’s eyes he had been walking for a very long time and notice that he was no longer in Russia, somehow they had brought him to America, but he couldn’t remember. He was getting sick of not knowing all the answers. He replayed his “meeting” with Michael in his head, and then it hit him. He had been told that in his coat pocket he would find a card with a phone number printed on it, so he looked inside his pocket, and indeed there it was. He rushed down the streets in order to find a payphone, it seemed kind of strange the way he couldn’t find one, or he did but it was being used. He did find one and rushed towards it so no one else could use it before him. He dialed the numbers and waited for someone to pick up.
He waited for over ten minutes, when a voice came from the other end of the phone. It told him that he was talking on a clean phone line and that his phone conversation had no time limit. –I have some questions- Jack said; the man on the other end of the phone didn’t reply to this, he just kept giving out instructions for Jack to carry out, numbers to dial, and the works. That was until someone else went on the phone.
-Good evening Jack, I am special agent DuPont. - stated the man on the other end of the phone, he had a French like name but no accent came from his voice as he pronounced the words in a smooth and cool way.
-Where is Michael?-
-Michael is unavailable at the moment; you will do exactly as I say…
-I didn’t come here to talk to some French wannabe, bye-
-I expect you don’t want to talk to the five snipers that are waiting for you outside either-
Jack was taken by surprise, he was cornered like an animal, and now there was no escape. DuPont could have been bluffing but just in case Jack slightly turned his head and stared at one of the buildings facing him. Nothing happened for a few seconds, until Jack noticed a blink of light reflecting from what seemed to be the glass of the scope.
-Shit! - He yelled to himself
-I told you. Once you’ve entered a mission there is no way out. Now if you take a look to your right you will find a coffee shop, after we are done talking go there, order a banana frappuchino and a black coffee, and sit down at one of the tables.
-Why don’t we get down to business? - Jack said in an annoyed tone, he was sick of listening to DuPont’s babbling which seemed to go nowhere. Jack had only one thing in mind and that was figuring out why he was in this situation, and ordering a man’s coffee didn’t seem promising enough.
-Well, I can’t talk seriously to man if I don’t look at him straight into the eye, now go on and get what I order, or would you prefer a bullet hole in the middle of your forehead? –
Jack sighed and hanged up the phone, he walked towards the coffee shop and as soon as he was in front of the door he noticed that the logo was similar to that to the one located in the cup of coffee he made a man drop at the subway station. Was this all related, or was it mere coincidence? A mayor headache began invading Jack’s mind, his eyes closed in pain and he placed his hand over his head, a single voice flooded his mind which whispered the following “Don’t you dare say you don’t love me” the voice was that of a young woman, but Jack couldn’t remember her, and nor did he care to.