Chapter 7- Setting Out Again?

Before the votes began pouring in, the French Ambassador stood up. "I move for a ten minuite recess." He said.

"I will second." Said the Middle Eastern man.

"Would any like a recess?" said the Secretary-General. There was a deafening "yea." "Very well, this meeting will resume in ten minutes." He stepped down and sat on the ground, looking exhausted. The grey-haired general stepped toward Drake and the others.

"I would like to speak with you." He said. Brooklyn nodded.

"Can't you do that here?" He asked.

"Yes, but I would prefer it somewhere else." The man said. "Follow me." He lead them up the stairs to their left, past all the long tables that stretched across the room, passed the bartering politicians, and into a room in the back of the main chamber. "This will do."

"Who are you?" Drake asked. "How do you know Matt?"

The man smiled. "I thought I was the one who wanted to ask the questions, but it seems you want some answers. My name is Dwight D. MacArthur, I'm the General of the UN peacekeeping force. As for my connection to Matt… well, I already explained that. I had him when I was only a lieutenant in the US army. Like I said, best man I ever had. Incredible combat medic. We all called him "invincible" because he could run clear across a battle field without getting shot, particularly when he was running to medic someone. We also called him that because no matter what, no one could kill him. He was shot several times, all over the place, got caught on barbed wire, once he stepped near a land mine and got blown back about fifty feet, but he never died. Never found out how he managed that…

"But enough reminiscing for me. Tell me, what exactly is going on? I gleaned a few things from this guy's speech, but I can't begin to guess at the whole story. Something tells me there's more to it than just a few monsters attacking the world."

"Well, you're right there." Keith said.

"It happened last year, too." Flynn said.

"Hmm? I don't remember anything about these things being in the news last year."

"That's because it was Duel Academy local." Brooklyn said. "They never got off the island. And, despite the report Matt sent in concerning it, nothing was ever published, nor was it ever investigated."

"I see." MacArthur said. "So, tell me. What happened last year?"

Keith began the story, as he had the best memory of any of them, but had to drop off at one point. He laughed a little and said, "That's right, I don't remember anymore from there. I was dead to the world from that point until you guys unlocked the vault."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, at that point I got caught and got my soul torn out." Keith winced, as if remembering the sensation. "That wasn't pleasant."

"I wouldn't doubt that." Drake said. "I wasn't there to watch, so I wouldn't know." Drake explained why he hadn't been there, along with the incident with Matt's "spirit."

"Now that's something I've never heard of him doing." MacArthur said.

"He didn't gain the ability to do that until after he killed all those people." Brooklyn said.

"Are you saying he actually did murder that entire town?"

"Yes, but he did it unintentionally. You remember the key we mentioned? Well, he touched it. We haven't explained the effects yet, have we?" Brooklyn looked at Keith. Keith shook his head. "Let's just say that it drives a normal man mad. And as invincible as he was, it affected him the same way it affects most men. Drove him to the edge of despair, and it was so bad he killed everything in sight. Next thing I know, I'm walking through a ghost town with blood and bodies and body parts everywhere and he's trying to make these two items out of the souls of the slain."

"That's… disturbing."

"Yeah, I thought so too. And I saw it all. But getting back to where we left off…" Brooklyn looked to Flynn. Flynn nodded and continued from where Keith had left off, up until when Brooklyn had joined them.

"You know, what made you come find us?" Flynn asked.

"Matt hadn't answered some of my calls, and I feared for his life, obviously. And I feared for yours, too."

"Ah." Flynn continued on and wrapped everything up.

"Well…" MacArthur looked pensive. "That's quite the tale, but I can tell you're telling the truth. What had happened on more recent terms?"

"Where should I start?" Keith asked.

"Is there really a question there?" Drake asked.

"I think there is." Keith frowned a little. "I don't like what I'm seeing."

"Tell us, O great and wise one, what do you see?" Helen said. Flynn slipped one hand over her mouth and one under her chin and held her mouth shut.

"I would like to move to ditch Helen here so we can spare ourselves this annoyance." Flynn said.

"Nah, we need her. We're short on manpower as it is, and as annoying as she has been lately, she contributes." Brooklyn said.

"Yes." Keith said. "Anyway, I've made some connections I don't like. I never thought about it before. You realize that the night the fiends attacked was the night that William was released from custody in the Flynn-William issue."

"So…?" Drake said. "Go on."

"Don't you think that's a little too coincidental? And only a few days before the attack, one of the key members of the original team that took down the fiends was put almost out of action."

"That's it?"

"No. It's not." Keith looked somewhat troubled. "For several weeks after the first attack, I noticed William was sneaking in and out of the Chancellor's room with a large bag that looked like it had books in it. You remember what Bentz told us about that."

"No." Flynn admitted. Helen opened her mouth and bit down on Flynn's hand. Flynn didn't move. "That's not nice." He curled up the hand under her jaw into a fist, lowered it a little, and gave Helen a good thwack on the bottom of her jaw. She shut her eyes from the pain. "So you think William may be connected to the attacks?"

"I don't think he's connected to them; I think he's heading them, much like Jacobs did last year."

"Any other proof of that?"

"Not off the top of my head." A buzzer went off in the room.

"Your presence is required in the main chamber." Came a voice through a grate on the wall.

"Thank you for answering my questions." MacArthur said.

"It wasn't a problem." Keith said. MacArthur nodded and left the room. The others stood there for a moment.

"Do you think they care for us to be in there?" Drake asked. The voice came back.

"Didn't I tell you to get into the main chamber?" it said.

"I guess that means yes." Flynn said while getting elbowed in the stomach by Helen. He apparently didn't feel it. "Now, can you hold your nasty tongue in check and be a good girl?" Helen glared at him as much as she could with him restraining her from behind. He let go, raised his foot, and kicked Helen in the small of the back. She fell forward and rolled up against the wall. "Let's go." Flynn said. They all followed him out.

"You run a brutal command, Flynn." Yugi commented.

"She needs to be put in her place." Flynn said.

"There are kinder ways to do it."

"Not in her case." Flynn stared out across the UN chamber. "What is it now?" He shouted down to the Secretary-General. The S-G sighed.

"The UN council has voted to commission your little group to find the source of this attack and end it." He said. "We will supply you with some munitions and supplies, but we are quite short-handed right now. You may take any personnel from here that you believe will be necessary to the success of your mission."

"Good." Flynn said. "I would like to take General MacArthur with me, if you don't mind."

"You have him. Anyone else?"

"No. I'm good." Flynn said.

"MacArthur?" Drake asked. "You sure about this?"

"He is a military man and has proven himself trustworthy, despite the short time we have known him." Yugi said. "I believe that he will make a fine addition to this squad." MacArthur stepped out from behind the US ambassador and joined them at the top of stairs.

"Do you need any supplies?" asked the S-G.

"Just the basics. Food and munitions."

"You will have them." The S-G directed them toward a side room, where a worker gave them a sack of nonperishables and some munitions.

"These won't rot, but it's not terribly varied. Hope this doesn't take you too long." Said the worker. "If it possible, I'd suggest that you go somewhere and get fresh foods instead of wasting that. Save it for when there's not other way to get food."

"Right." Flynn handed the bag to Helen, who glared at him but took it anyway. "Let's go." He led them to the exit. "We're going to have to fight back to the plane, so get ready." He locked in a new clip to his own rifle. MacArthur pulled out his own rifle, a monstrous rifle with all sorts of nasty gear on the sides.

"What the heck is that?" Drake asked.

"It's fairly new. Full auto, 60 rounds to a clip, 1000 rounds a minute. It also has a laser sight attached to the front that runs on stored solar power, a bipod, and an effective range of about a mile."

"That's ridiculous." Flynn said. "But we'll take it." He reached for the handle of the door. "Ready?" He threw the door open. "Go!" He clubbed a fiend who just happened to be too close to the door and shot through a few more fiends. Drake shot the fiend and ran after him.

Getting out was just as hard as getting out, but thanks to having a new man in the cell, they accomplished it without too much trouble. Drake's dad had the plane running as soon as he saw them coming. Drake realized something.

"Will we have enough room for MacArthur?" He shouted to Keith as he cut down a small group of fiends.

"Yeah! He can just strap in over the bomb bay." Keith said, flipping out a switchblade and stabbing a fiend in the neck, then cutting down some more by firing his rifle with his other hand.

"Where'd you get that?" Drake asked, backing up to the B-17.

"I've had it for a while. It's easier to carry discreetly than a pistol or rifle." Keith swung up into the plane. "Come on!" Drake swung up into the door and into his little ball turret, closing the door behind him.

"Everyone in?" Mr. Stizen shouted.

"Yeah!" MacArthur shouted. "Go, CCMS!" The plane roared down the street, slicing some fiends into pieces with its deadly propellers. They had no trouble getting into the air.

"Why does he call you that?" Drake asked, sticking his head out of the turret.

"That's my airforce rank. Command Chief Master Sergeant. That's General D. D. MacArthur back there, is it?" Drake's dad asked.

"Aye, it is." Flynn said. "Why?"

"I knew him back then. Had to drop into more than a few places. We knew each other pretty well."

"Small world…" Flynn said.