DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Last of Us.
Note: Completely different plot and AU. Enjoy!
In the Darkness
Light the Fire
Gray clouds hung low across the sky, stretching for miles and miles around and dampening the sunlight into a shadowy gloom.
He eyed the clouds for a moment, watching as they moved swiftly across the vast sky. The wind seemed to be blowing stronger with each passing minute, as if trying to bring the storm in from the sea faster. As time passed, the clouds grew darker, more menacing. A fitting day to begin the journey towards his ultimate vision.
His gaze drifted downward, taking in the sight of the bustling city before him from the fantastic viewpoint of his top-floor office, several hundred feet off the ground. Off in the distance he could see the famous London Eye, a giant Ferris wheel situated next to the Thames River. Close to the Eye stood Big Ben, the famed clock tower of London as it continued it's timekeeping vigil over the city. He could see parts of the Thames River itself as it snaked its way through the city, it's waters dark and mysterious.
Gaze going even lower, he watched the traffic driving by and the people walking along, living out their lives, oblivious to the tall man in a finely tailored suit observing them from above. He wondered how many of them would survive what was to come.
The sound of his office door opening echoed across the largely silent office, the ensuing footsteps on the marble floors loud and unapologetic.
"Everything is in place, sir. We're ready to begin and only await your orders," said the voice of his second-in-command from behind him.
Those words caused his heart to pump a little faster, excitement filling him. He breathed in slowly, a deep breath that filled his lungs, and then he exhaled just as slowly in an attempt to calm himself. He turned away from the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, one of three that made up three out of the four walls of his cavernous office. He placed his left hand on top of the genuine leather office chair situated behind a heavy, ebony wood desk with various carvings on it, the most prominent of which was a giant bird - a phoenix - that was carved into the forward-facing portion of the desk.
His second stood a few paces in front of the desk, a dark-haired man with an eye-patch over his left eye and a long scar running across the side of his face and over the eye up to a little past his eyebrow. According to him, it was a battle wound during some long ago conflict in whatever eastern European country he was originally from. Black facial hair, about an inch thick, encircled his mouth and a well-kept beard ran along his jawline. He stood straight, as much a testimony to his military past as his scars and his well-built physique.
His steady gaze was returned by his second, not a shadow of emotion could be seen between either of them. Blue eyes met gray eye, the former seemingly testing the will of the latter through a staring contest. Eventually he replied, though his gaze did not leave the eye of his second.
"Good work. And the helicopter?" His voice was strong and cultured, the sound of a man of privilege.
His second responded in his rough voice, "Fueled and waiting, sir."
"Excellent."
A bottle of fine scotch sat, waiting to be used, next to some glasses on a side table and he walked towards it. Filling up a glass, he took a sip, letting the alcohol run down his throat. He nodded in approval and then turned back towards the windows, glass still in hand.
"Do you believe in our cause, Viktor?" he asked, glancing at the dark-haired man and noting the slightest hint of surprise in his features.
"Of course I believe, sir."
"Of course you believe," he repeated as soon as Viktor had spoken, "But can you tell me why?" His eyes watched the dark-haired man with interest.
Viktor shifted a little, belying his discomfort at being asked that. "I... uh.." he struggled to respond, unsure of what answer his leader was looking for. The line of questioning itself had come as a surprise, and he wondered if he was being tested. He had joined the cause and believed in it more because he believed in its leader than he believed in the actual cause itself. To him, as long as his boss was in charge he would trust him to do what was right.
Sensing his uncertainty, the man in the suit gave a small smile. "It's okay, Viktor. I know you are loyal, this is not a test. But please, indulge me... you may answer freely."
Nodding, Viktor finally gave him a proper answer. "I believe in the cause, sir, because I believe in you."
"I guess I should say that's a good answer." A light chuckle and a smile followed that statement from the man in the suit. "Now, do you know why I believe in our cause?"
Viktor shook his head, failing to see where this was going.
"I believe in our cause, Viktor, because I see the future that mankind is running towards and it is a dark one. Rampant corruption and struggles for power plague our governments. Our people are oppressed and afraid, many struggling to live in a world that has lost its way. The planet that we live on is beginning to fail as we consume more than it can sustain. In short, this path that humanity now walks on... it leads to our destruction, Viktor.
But we have the opportunity to change that. I have the opportunity to bring about a better world. A chance to wipe the slate clean and start over." He paused, drinking in the rest of the scotch and setting the empty glass back on the side table. "While the coming chapter in humanity's history will be dark as the world we know burns to the ground, once the world is cleansed and reborn our Phoenix Corps will lead humanity to the righteous path. A path towards a better future."
He added with conviction, "I believe in our cause, Viktor, because in order for the glorious phoenix to rise anew, it must first burn to ashes. To build a better world, the old one must be cleared away."
Viktor was swept up in his words, as he usually was, and gave a firm nod to indicate that he understood, and that he would help him accomplish his vision.
A broad smile, baring perfect white teeth, stretched across the leader's face. "Tell them to begin, Viktor. It is time to light the fire that will cleanse this world."
-xxxVxxx-
One week later...
Two files were thrown on the table, the folders slapping onto the smooth metal. Other than the area immediately around the table, the rest of the room was dimly lit.
"His name is Cato Fenix, a British billionaire who built his fortune on pharmaceuticals and agriculture, though mostly pharma. Our spy within the Phoenix Corps says that he is the true leader of the terrorist group, though of course there is very little actual evidence that points to that, particularly since the official leader on paper is an eastern European named Viktor," explained the briefing officer, a petite young brunette woman.
Standing next to her and opposite each other around the table were two men, the older of the two in a suit and tie while the younger was in a loose-fitting dark gray shirt, black pants, and black combat boots. He had a gruffness and confidence about him that signaled this was a man who had seen much of the roughness of the world and survived.
"Do we have pictures?" asked the young man who looked to be in his late twenties, dark brown hair and a hint of a stubble on his face. Amber eyes looked out at the world with an intensity that made the woman subconsciously squirm.
"No one really sees much of either of them, although the lieutenants of each cell report to Viktor on occasion," she continued, "The reason we're briefing you on this is because there's been a lot of activity lately and they seem to be gearing up for a major operation. We've been working hard on this, utilizing every asset we have, and we barely know anything. Which is why this has become a top priority case, because if something big is coming and we don't know what..." she trailed off before resuming again.
"Only a few hours ago, we received the best information we've gotten from our efforts to date. Your objective on this mission is to infiltrate one of their cells and retrieve a special package that's being kept there. It is apparently of vital importance to their upcoming operation. We don't exactly know what it is or what it even does, but if we can take it from them that will surely put a big wrench in their plans while also giving us an opportunity to figure out what they are up to."
The other man, a graying wrinkly figure with a thick grayish-white mustache, spoke in a serious tone, "This is our biggest break yet, Joel. Our spy claims that the upcoming operation is happening on a global scale, but he doesn't know what it is yet. You must retrieve the package and deliver it to us intact so we can figure out what they're up to. If you can find any additional information from that cell, go ahead and take that too, but that is secondary to your main objective of securing the package. Is that clear?"
Joel nodded, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I understand, sir. Package is primary, all else secondary."
The briefing officer added, "You'll be dropped off by chopper ten miles from the target to avoid detection. There'll be a ground vehicle at the LZ. Extraction will be at the same spot. We don't have much intel on security, but expect it to be heavily guarded considering how valuable the package seems to be. We'll have fireteams at the ready in case things get too hot, but try and keep a low profile for as long as possible. We'd rather not give them a heads up that we're onto them."
"Got it."
"You're one of the best operatives we've had in years, Joel. But still, don't fuck this up," said the older gentleman, giving him a stern look. "We've only got one shot at this."
Joel half-glared back at him, a little offended that there was even a shred of doubt in his superior's mind about his abilities. "I'll get it done, chief. Like I always do."
"Very well. Your flight to London leaves in an hour. Good luck, Joel," said the older gentleman dismissively.
Getting the hint, Joel left the briefing room deep in the bowels of the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia and made his way to the surface. Getting into the car that would take him to the CIA private airfield, he took out his cellphone. He had a few calls to make before he left.
-xxxVxxx-
Her dad had woken her up a little after sunrise and told her to pack for a short stay at her uncle Tommy's place, much to her confusion and surprise. She asked him what the occasion was but he didn't answer and he didn't seem to be in a talkative mood all the way to the airport. Once there he checked her in for her flight and handed her over to the airline representative who would take care of her since she was an unaccompanied minor. He quickly left after that, promising to call when he could.
Sarah knew that her dad worked for some government contractor or something or other, but beyond that she didn't know what he actually did on the job.
She imagined him as some kind of super spy, especially since he did travel a lot, but whenever she asked him he would always reply that he was only a desk worker. She didn't believe him, but neither did she press him for an honest answer. He was on trips far too often for a desk worker, and he more often than not came back from those trips with all manner of bruises, cuts, and scrapes. Furthermore, he was a government contractor desk worker who happened to make a decent amount of money, enough to buy them a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood in the suburbs of Washington D.C. It was definitely an upgrade from the house they had in Texas, although she missed the countryside and found the suburban life to be strange and different.
The airport wasn't too crowded so early in the morning and there were a handful of people around waiting at her gate. Sarah was sitting close to the gate half-asleep when she received the call from her dad.
"Daddy?"
"Hey Sarah. You at the gate yet?" asked the voice of her father through the phone.
"Yeah, I'm here," she said, yawning, "Kinda hungry."
"I gave you spending money, so go buy yourself some breakfast. You have some time to eat before your flight."
"Yeah, yeah, dad, I know. I'm twelve. I can take care of myself," she replied.
Her father snorted, "Ok. That's why you're traveling with a flight attendant helping you because you're an unaccompanied minor, right?"
"Hey! It's not my fault they have that policy. And I'm pretty sure that's a law too." She tucked her legs up against her chest, heels resting on the edge of the seat. "Are you going to tell me what this whole deal is?" Impromptu trips rarely happened like this, because even though he traveled a lot there was usually advanced warning and he could arrange a babysitter or for her to stay at her uncle's in Texas.
"Just a last-minute business trip, honey. I should be back in a few days, and when I do I'll go straight to meet you at uncle Tommy's."
"Where are you going then?"
There was a pause and then, "Europe," came the unspecific reply. He clearly did not want her to know exactly where, not that it bothered her. She was used to him keeping secrets about his work like that. All the more reason she thought he must be some kind of spy.
"Sounds fancy."
He laughed. "Yeah, they've got me in first class."
"I wish I was in first class," she mumbled, a little jealous.
"Maybe next time," said her father with a hint of amusement.
She then quietly put a hand to her face, shaking her head for being so stupid. "Oh gosh! I almost forgot! Happy birthday!" In the sudden and groggy rush of the morning, she had forgotten that it was her father's birthday. The birthday card that she had made for him was still on her dresser too.
"Thank you. I'd forgotten it was my birthday," he said truthfully. "Anyway, I gotta go kiddo. You behave yourself, okay? Say hi to uncle Tommy for me."
"Okay, dad. Have a safe trip!"
"You too. Love you, baby girl," he said and then hung up.
Rubbing her eyes and yawning once again, she stood up and gathered her backpack and her gym bag full of clothes. Stomach growling, she set off to get some breakfast at one of the airport eateries.
-xxxVxxx-
"Thanks again for doing this, Tommy, and sorry for the short notice," Joel said on the phone as his vehicle rolled into the private airstrip, passing through the heavily guarded gate. One of the M4 carbine-wielding guards saluted as they drove on.
"Anytime, big brother. And don't worry about it, you and Sarah are always welcome to drop by. You know that."
"Right. By the way, I'd prefer it if you kept her away from your construction sites... and power tools," said the older brother. Tommy had a new contracting and construction business, although it was a small operation, so far he was pretty busy having secured several projects.
A short laugh sounded over the phone. "Don't worry about it. You know I'll take good care of my niece. Besides, she's tougher than she looks. It would be nice to have a little helper around."
"Tommy..." growled Joel.
"I'm just messin' with ya, big brother."
Joel responded as the black sedan he was riding in entered the hangar of the private jet that he would be taking to London, "Okay then. I'm getting on my flight already. Send me a text when you've picked her up, okay? My number should still work even though I'm overseas. I got that roamin' thing."
"Got it. You have a safe flight now, ya hear?" said his brother and they ended the call.
He opened the door, got out of the car, and walked the twenty or so feet to the plane, getting on board. He nodded in greeting to the handful of other agents on board before sitting down and securing his seat belt. He then closed his eyes to get some sleep as he felt the plane lurch backwards, getting ready to taxi for takeoff.
Five hours later and he was woken up by the shuddering of the plane from touching down and the roar of the engines as they reversed themselves to help slow the forward movement of the plane. After a brief taxi, the plane came to a rest inside another nondescript hangar on a private airfield owned by the Agency, not too far from London.
Checking his phone, Joel noted that Tommy had texted him and he opened the short message.
Got Sarah.
Stepping off the plane last after the other agents who had flown along, there was one person there waiting for him.
"Good evening, agent Graves. Welcome to London," greeted a uniformed agent at the bottom of the plane's steps, his British accent crisp. He was young, maybe a few years out of college, and his light blue eyes were full of excitement and interest as they stared at him.
Joel grunted, stretching to relieve the stiffness from sitting down for too long. "Where's my gear?" he said loudly over the whine of the engines. Thankfully, they began to shut down and the noise level decreased considerably.
"If you'll follow me, please." The agent led him out a side door and in between a few other hangars before going into a brick building. A few more hallways and one staircase up later, and he was brought to a room full of equipment and weapons. "You are to have whatever you think you need. I'll be right outside. Let me know when you're ready and I'll take you to your transport."
With that said, Joel was left alone in what could only be described as a small armory. He went around once to see what was available and was happy with the selections, though he would of course not be able to bring all of them. His gaze drifted over to some of the heavy-duty equipment and he wished he could bring some along, but it was too bulky and too noisy for a mostly stealth operation.
He always had his concealed carry King Cobra .357 revolver with him hanging on his side off of a shoulder holster. For close quarters he had a combat knife hidden horizontally across his lower back that he could unsheathe easily by simply reaching back behind him to grab the handle.
He grabbed a second pistol holster that he attached on his right hip, taking a 9mm pistol with a silencer and several magazines for it. In case he needed it, he strapped a smaller secondary knife to his lower right calf.
Spotting a Kevlar vest he donned that, making sure it was snug against his body; it didn't hurt to bring a little armor along. Finally, he grabbed a special forces favorite: the MP-5 Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun equipped with a silencer. Compact and with decent ammo capacity, it fired 9mm rounds accurately and at a healthy rate. For extra firepower if shit hit the fan, he slung a pump-action 12 gauge across his back, loading it up with the maximum six shells and taking along an extra twelve, and he took few grenades of the explosive and smoke variety.
Satisfied, he looked around one more time before stepping out into the hallway.
"I'm all set," he told the agent who was waiting for him outside.
"Follow me then, sir."
The pitch black helicopter started up as soon as the pilots saw them approaching, the engine whining to life as the massive rotor blades rotated faster with each passing second. Two men decked out in combat gear and assault rifles stood by the open door as the agent took him to them.
"Agent Graves, these are corporals Rooney and Hunter. They'll be accompanying you to the target," informed the agent, causing Joel to frown.
"I work best solo," he said matter-of-factly, not hiding his annoyance. They would only slow him down, he thought.
"Agency orders, sir," the agent shrugged.
Sighing, Joel nodded in understanding before looking to the two men who were going with him. He hoped they would be competent enough to not get in his way while also being helpful.
"Alright, let's move out," he said loud enough for them to hear and they both nodded, letting him get on first before following. Joel waved in thanks to the agent who gave him a thumbs up before quickly moving away to a safer distance.
Leaning forward towards the cockpit, Joel tapped the pilot's right shoulder to indicate that they were ready to go. A moment later and the helicopter was off the ground and flying low into the night.
-xxxVxxx-
"Listen! Did you hear that?" hissed one of the men on patrol along the long fence that encircled the warehouses by a wide river.
The second man listened but heard nothing so he said with annoyance, "You're hearing things. Shut up and let's get this patrol over with so we can get some dinner. I'm starving."
Both of them held AK-47's loosely in their hands, though the one that had heard something tightened his grip and raised his gun a little, peering out into the darkness beyond the fence. They continued on for a little while before reaching the far corner of the high fence, barbed war running along the entire length of the top of it. They didn't get a chance to turn around and continue their patrol as two figures grabbed them from behind, slashing their throats quickly and leaving them on the ground to die.
Joel nodded to the other man who had helped him out. He thought his name was Hunter. They were politely quiet and thankfully skilled, respecting his lead and obeying his orders with minimal discussion. And even then it was only to clarify.
Rooney had a sniper rifle and was off somewhere finding a suitable perch from where he could cover them. Sure enough, a whisper came from their earpiece radios. "In position. I see you."
Hunter raised a hand and gave a thumbs up to the hidden Rooney.
Motioning forward, Joel and Hunter crept along the shadows, hiding behind crates, dumpsters, and sticking close to the walls of the nearest warehouse. Intel had no idea which of the three warehouses the package was in, but he imagined that it would be easy enough to tell which one once they searched through all of them.
Another man on patrol walked close by to where they were hiding, humming softly to himself as he rested a double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder. He went down quickly from Hunter's knife and was dragged behind some crates. Joel moved towards a back corner of the warehouse where there was an open window that they could climb through into the warehouse office.
Peering over the window sill, Joel noted that the office was empty and he signaled Hunter that it was all clear before quietly jumping through it, his boots landing with a slight thud on the hard cement floor. He still had his knife out, preferring to use as many silent take downs as he could before resorting to firing his guns. Even though they had silencers, they were still loud enough to attract attention when fired, particularly in an enclosed space like this where the sound would undoubtedly echo.
As they reached the door to the office, it suddenly opened and Joel quickly grabbed the figure who was walking through, throwing him to the ground as the man let out a surprised yelp and then a grunt of pain as his back and head hit the cement floor. The man looked up at him with fearful eyes as the knife was pressed against his throat.
"You scream, and I cut your throat," Joel growled and the man nodded slowly, eyes wide.
Hunter quickly shut the door and stayed off to the side, assault rifle at the ready and pointed at the door.
"Where's the package?" asked Joel.
"W-what package?"
Joel pressed the knife harder against the man's throat, drawing blood and making his eyes go even wider, the man taking in a sharp intake of breath as the cut began to sting.
"I d-don't know what package y-your talking about," he stammered fearfully, and Joel believed him.
"There's something very valuable to your coming operation that you're guarding here. I want to know what it is and where it is."
A look of recognition crossed into the man's eyes and he nodded slowly. "I think... I-I don't actually k-know what it is, but w-warehouse three had the g-guard doubled last night. This p-package must be there!"
"Which one is warehouse three?" he asked, pressed the knife harder still.
The man began to shake, taking quick and shallow breaths. "It's the last one at the end. The farthest one! Please, that's all I know! Please don't kill me."
Joel slashed his throat, blood spewing out immediately as the man began to choke and gargle on his own blood. There was a time when he would have let the man live, but that was before the last time he did so it bit him in the ass as the man reported in and caused a shit storm to erupt during his mission. He had made it out, but several Agency operatives went down in the process. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.
Hunter seemed to give him a strange look but the man remained silent.
Joel whispered into their comm radio, "Package is in the farthest warehouse. Make sure your vantage lets you cover us that far."
"Copy that. Moving now," replied Rooney after a few seconds.
"Alright Hunter, let's go get that package." He jumped back out of the window, boots crunching asphalt as he moved to the edge of the corner and snuck a peek. Another two man patrol was heading this way and he communicated as much to Hunter via hand signals.
They walked by at a relaxed pace without noticing the two figures crouched low against the warehouse, who immediately crept up behind them and took them out as well. While the bodycount was rising and there was more chances of them being discovered if someone happened to see the bodies, the way Joel saw it was that taking them out would also lessen the number of enemies they'd have to fight should the alarm be raised.
Staying low to the ground in the shadow of the second warehouse, Joel observed the third warehouse. It was a little farther from the first two, with a wide open space in between it and the second warehouse. That made it difficult to approach without being spotted since that was a lot of ground to cover. Two soldiers stood on a catwalk that hugged around the top edge of the third warehouse, rifles in their hands.
Four more guarded the giant warehouse door with two more by the smaller side door. They all had sub-machine guns and it looked like they weren't moving for a while.
Joel cursed as there was no other way to sneak through without being seen, which meant stealth was out of the window now. They would have to go in, guns blazing, and hopefully retrieve the package before reinforcements came. If the package was important enough, that at least meant they wouldn't use any explosives or heavy weapons so as not to damage it, and that gave Joel a little comfort.
He turned to Hunter and whispered, "We're going in hot from here on out. Make your shots count, we'll be wide open running across."
Hunter nodded affirmatively, "I've got your back, sir."
"Rooney. You have eyes on the last warehouse?" he asked through the radio. Hopefully the sniper could make getting into the warehouse easier.
The response was immediate. "Sir, I've only got eyes on the rooftop guys and one of the men on the ground by the warehouse. Can't get a much better vantage point than this."
"Good enough for me. On my mark, take out the rooftop guards." He pointed to the two guards by the side door. "Hunter, you take those guys out first. I'll engage the four by the big door. Once they're down, we sprint like hell towards the side door and get inside. I'd imagine there'll be reinforcements coming towards the gunfire and we don't want to get caught out in the open like this." Joel figured that at least inside they could make a better stand, should they have no route of escape.
"Understood, sir."
Hunter raised his assault rifle, crouching tensely as Joel turned back and eyed the four guards standing in a circle in front of the big garage door. He figured he'd be able to take them all out with one clip, but he had to make sure his shots were accurate and from this distance it would be a challenge. Getting closer might be the only way to truly finish them off, but he could at least injure them from here.
"Mark," he spoke into the radio.
A single shot rang out, hitting one of the rooftop guards square in the chest and throwing him back into the railing of the catwalk. The second guard gaped in utter surprise, along with the guards down below who were staring up at the catwalk. By the time the second shot rang out and took a chunk off the second rooftop guard's head, Joel inhaled a deep breath and, holding it, aimed down the sights of the MP-5 towards the group of four men who were still looking up at the catwalk with guns raised, then pressed his finger on the trigger just as Hunter opened fire beside him on his own targets.
-xxxVxxx-
"Sir, it's starting," Viktor said while knocking on the door to the master bedroom. loud enough to be heard through it.
"Give me a moment," replied the muffled voice of Cato Fenix from behind the heavy wooden door.
Viktor leaned against the wall beside the door and waited.
A few minutes later and the door opened, Cato stepping out wearing another one of his expensive suits. He flashed a smile at Viktor, eyes alight with excitement and anticipation. "Lead the way."
They traveled through the interior of the compound, passing by several men outfitted in black uniforms and carrying assault rifles, and entered into a large room with a few computer terminals and several couches and chairs placed in front of a wall full of widescreen TV's, each one tuned to a different news channel from around the world. A few of them were covering an outbreak of some mysterious illness that had already afflicted several dozens of thousands people, with that number climbing every minute.
Some men who were in the room stood up as they saw their leaders enter, and a wave from Cato made them return to their seats, the man's eyes fixated on the screens. Cato took a seat in the middle one of three couches, Viktor preferring to stand behind him and clasping his hands together behind his back as he stood in parade rest.
"Where are the first reports coming from?" he asked the room, though in truth nobody but Viktor dared to speak to him unless directly spoken to, so Viktor was the one who responded.
"Brazil, Mexico, India, and China were the first to report a growing mysterious disease problem. There's already mounting unrest in those areas as the military forces of those countries are being mobilized. Russia and much of northern Africa are just beginning to report on it now. It's only a matter of time before the U.S. and every other country is afflicted, sir."
Cato leaned back and relaxed, admiring the screens with what looked to be joy. "Well, it appears to be time then. Send out the lock down order and commence our own."
Viktor moved around to one of the men manning a computer station and repeated the order, the man's fingers flying across the keyboard as he sent the message out to the rest of their global organization. Directing one of the other men to start the compound lock down, the sounds of heavy machinery and gears whining and grinding rumbled through the structure.
"And get some wine while you're at it. Let us celebrate while we watch this tainted world burn."
Author's notes: GAME OF THE YEAR 2013? I love this game. Hands down one of my all-time favorites. Very gripping, emotional, and thought-provoking. I hope to do it some justice here with a hopefully interesting AU story that is influenced by some of what happens in the game.