New Mexico: Dave groggily sat up in his sleeping bag and yawned loudly as he got up and made for the nearest tree. After finishing his business there and washing up, he went over to the fire pit and got it going again and soon Sheila was awake as well
"What's cookin' good lookin'?" she asked lightly at the pot he was now boiling.
"Ramen!" said the hippie with a smile as he lifted his wooden ladle with noodles dripping off of it.
"Blech!" said the teenager sticking out her tongue. "It's too early in the morning for that stuff. Got anything else on the menu?"
The hippie reached into his nearby sack and produced a can that he tossed to her. "Well you could have watered down soup…"
"No thanks," she said, setting the can down. Some more rummaging produced a potato that he also tossed to her.
"No thanks, 'spud'," she stated while looking at the potato and Dave. "C'mon, where's the good stuff?"
"Well…," said Dave reluctantly as a half-hearted smile appeared on his face. Sheila perked up at that.
"What've you got big brother?" she said, her mouth drooling in anticipation. The hippie's grin broke out even wider as he retrieved a small silver package from his jacket pocket and held it up in tantalizingly in front of the teenager.
"It can't be," she said in hushed awe. The hippie vigorously nodded his head in the affirmative.
"One strawberry toaster pastry, still in mint condition," he said laughing hard as Sheila's jaw dropped at the sight of her favorite breakfast snack in the whole world.
"Where did you find one of those, I haven't seen one in at least a year!" she exclaimed. Dave nodded.
"I was just in the right place at the right time and knowing you, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it," he said, leaving the details a mystery. "Course, I was planning on saving it for a special occasion…"
Sheila's single mindedness about needing the pastry softened as she turned reflective at Dave's comments.
"I tell you what," she decided. "I've got some plastic wrap in my car, enough to wrap those two pastries. I'll take one, you take the other, and we toast when this is all over."
"Deal," said Dave, happy with that arrangement as he reached for the ladle. "Now for some delicious ramen…"
Sacramento: Out of the bottom parking garage of one of the hotels, a Manta and Palamino raced out and down the road headed for the interstate. As they passed by the civilians on the side of the road, most paid them no mind, save for glancing at the exterior weaponry, but no more than that. But one older gentleman sitting at a table outside of a café watched them leave with interest before grinning slightly and tipping his glass at them before standing up and walking across the street and into the office building that secretly housed the OMAR servers. The older man walked strode right through the lobby and into the elevator and up to the top floor. Once there, the individual headed straight down the hallway and towards a room at the very end, but before he could knock on the door, the old man was instantly surrounded by armed guards out of all the doors he had just passed.
"Good morning gentlemen," said the older man, obligingly holding up his arms as a big grin spread across his face. "I'm here to see Seven and Eight, they should be expecting me."
The older man was subsequently prodded at gunpoint into the room beyond as the door closed shut behind him.
Anasazi Sandworx Co.: Slick Clyde and John Torque were currently sitting on a bench in the giant pit of the sand works and intently focused on their game of chess. The scientist had been left a little bit at a loss when the fashion model had suggested it, but to his surprise, Slick was an avid player of the game. They had already had two heated games, with each winning one, and were now on their third. Next to them a portable radio was blaring out the news from around the country along with speculation on the rest of the world.
"So what do you make of all of this talk about OMAR in Mexico being knocked off and now the Arizona Base that Sheila and Dave just defended now also getting hit?" asked John as he moved his rook and took one of Slick's pawns.
"Information," responded the playboy truthfully. "Someone needs to amass a lot of information really quickly and that's what they're doing. And apparently they're looking for quite some picture if they're also going after USAF installations."
"You think it's the same individuals?" asked John curiously. Slick nodded his head as he moved one of his pieces.
"OMAR and USAF installations getting attacked isn't a commonplace occurrence," the playboy pointed out. "The time it takes to get from Mexico City to Arizona averaging eighty miles an hour would place those two attacks perfectly."
"Yes, I had a similar thought," the scientist agreed as he briefly waved his hand in front of his face to shoo away a bee. "But do you think this new party is friend or foe?"
"I don't know," Slick confessed as the bee now buzzed him. "But it hardly matters right now."
"And why's that?" asked John, who was then briefly startled as Slick slammed his hand against the wooden table, crushing the bee.
"Because it's game time," he responded, holding up his hand and revealing tiny metal shards and other pieces of a mechanical bee that began briefly throwing off sparks. John Torque nodded his head in agreement and put the board and the pieces away.
"We'll just have to continue this game later," he concluded. Slick nodded with his normal grin as he donned his cowboy hat and slid on his sunglasses.
"I look forward to it, partner," he said in a southern drawl as the two bolted for their vehicles as Beezwax's Stag Pickup and Boogie's Leprechaun poured over the rim of the crater, all weapons firing.
Sacramento: The older man was now handcuffed to a chair as he sat and looked at the darkened images of Seven and Eight.
"YOU PICKED THE WRONG COMPANY TO MESS WITH!" shouted Eight angrily at the man who had a broad smile across his face as he shook his head lightly in bemusement.
"You find this amusing?" asked Seven perplexed. "Because this is no laughing matter. You invaded our Mexico headquarters and killed one of our colleagues and declared war on the most powerful conglomerate this world has ever known."
The older man sighed and shook his head once more, this time in shame.
"You two never could perform a proper interrogation," he lamented. "Three was always better at it than you two."
"And yet you killed him," said Seven coldly. "Why?"
The man shrugged. "Because he had to go for my vision to succeed and I wanted…no, I needed to kill him first for all the trouble he caused me over the years."
The man's smile turned from light hearted to malicious as he stared at the two OMAR Executives without fear.
"Your reign of destruction ends now," Eight repeated confidently. The older man sighed in disgust.
"You may not get it, Eight, but perhaps you should consult with Seven," the man declared icily. "I've already won. You lost the second I showed up."
"I'm not the one handcuffed to a chair and about to be shot," Eight shot back smugly. But although unseen, Seven's complexion began rapidly paling with each comment the stranger made.
"Eight?" asked the man, extremely annoyed at the other's ignorance. "Just stop talking. Your only usefulness is pulling a trigger at a visible target and nothing else. I am just going to talk to Seven from here on out and if you speak again, I will kill you."
Eight was too flabbergasted to mount a response at being talked down to from someone he swore he'd never met before and yet talked to him like they'd known each other for a long time. And so a small part of his smug persona began to experience something he'd not felt in a long time, fear.
"And what do you want from me?" asked Seven in a hushed tone.
"I want you to let me go," said the older man, now more laid back. "And report back to your superiors that my time here is now to go unimpeded by OMAR. I am about to put some very important plans into motion and I don't need your interference."
Seven just sat there helplessly as Eight began visibly fuming over the stranger's statements before turning to Seven, wanting to see what his response would be.
"…I'm sorry but I can't do that," said Seven softly as he stared at his trembling hands. The older man leaned back in his chair and stared at him patiently.
"And why not?" he asked. Seven looked up at him with a grim smile.
"It's like you said, you already won. And in order for you to be here now, that means certain things had to have happened. I may not be able to prevent those things, but I can do my best to make up for them here and now with you," Seven revealed. The older man nodded as Eight was left bewildered at that statement.
"I always did respect you, Seven, even if you did occasionally miss an important detail or two," the man responded with a light smile. Seven looked at him suspiciously.
"Am I missing one now?" he asked. The man nodded his head.
"Yes," came the answer. "I can only presume that you know that I was the one behind the Mexico attack and in order to do that, you'd have to have some photo of my presence there."
"Yes," said Seven agreeably. "I have the photo right here."
The blurry image of the older man, the younger woman, and the other individual wearing the cowboy hat appeared.
"But am I really the person in that photo?" asked the man, a question that chilled Seven to the bone.
"Of course you are," said Eight butting in. "You look the same enough to me."
The older man turned to face the OMAR Executive. "But you're missing one important detail."
Seven began rapidly scrutinizing the photo once more as Eight began loading bullets into his handgun…and then Seven saw the difference.
"No…," he responded terrified as the older man's eyes glowed red/orange and his appearance began to become blurry.
"Where's my cane?" the individual responded in a dark voice that become more mechanical with each word. Eight then leapt up and shot the individual repeatedly who began laughing darkly as they snapped their hands forward with rapid motion and snapped the chains on the handcuffs and stood up. The guards promptly opened fire as the individual stood up and the image of the man blurred completely and a new individual appeared in its place with glowing red-orange eyes.
"Holy Sh-!" began Numbers Seven and Eight as the individual began grabbing guards left and right and throwing them across the room as more and more bullets were fired at it. After a few moments of that, every guard was either incapacitated or worse and Seven and Eight were the only ones left standing, their mouths wide open in shock.
"B-but if you were not who we thought you were, then why this charade?" asked Seven, completely helpless. Eight's expression turned into a scowl as he glared at the person across the room.
"It was all a diversion," he realized. "It was a delaying tactic to prevent us from realizing their real goal, the plundering of our data servers."
"Very good, Eight, I knew you weren't completely beyond hope," said a familiar voice from the doorway. Seven and Eight abruptly jerked their heads towards the voice as the older man whom they thought had been in the chair, this time with his crystal topped cane, stood leaning against the frame. The man then walked and stood next to his companion as a woman in a blue jumpsuit and katana at the ready stood on the other side.
"So you're the mastermind behind all this," commented Eight darkly. The older man nodded as he produced a cowboy hat and gave it to his companion who put it on.
"Yes, I am, and may I say that I have looked forward to seeing you two again for a long time," the man said with a broad grin. "I just wish I could stay longer and chat, but I have things to accomplish."
Eight pulled out his gun and aimed it at the older man who looked at the weapon and laughed.
"Goodbye Eight, don't do anything stupid until we meet again. And Seven, please don't kill yourself over this," said the man as he snapped his fingers.
CRASSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!
A blinding flash and an invisible shockwave abruptly tore through the room as glass, wood, furniture, and windows exploded raining pieces everywhere and Seven and Eight covered their faces for protection. Once the shower had ended, a strange noise greeted their ears and both looked up to see an Excelsior Stretch Limousine facing them with its weaponry as nearby sat a Palamino-like vehicle and another strangle motorcycle-contraption. The three individuals made for their vehicles and were about to step in when Seven spoke once more.
"Why are you here?" he had to know. The older man smiled again as if putting on the face of a family uncle, before he began glaring daggers at them. And then he said why he was there and Seven and Eight turned white as sheet. And then just as abruptly as they appeared, the vehicles disappeared in a blinding flash, but left in their wake was a single Roadkill Mine, and the two OMAR Executives ran as fast as they could as the room exploded into a fireball.
Hexagon Oil Facilities, New Mexico: "Oil, oil, everywhere, but not a drop to guzzle," commented Sheila off-hand. The two were in a desert full of cacti and other assorted plans as in the distance, smoke and flames could be seen rising from numerous smokestacks at the facility. Dave didn't respond; he was busy working on his sensor equipment where a blurry image confronted him.
"Dave, are you still working on that?" asked the teenager frustrated, as she was sitting on the ground and leaning on the van's rear bumper. She then craned her head back so she was looking at his upside down image.
"I have to know what was up there above that USAF facility," he responded. The flying saucer had snapped an image amongst the firefight, but part of its electronics had gotten shorted out and so Dave was trying to clean up the picture as best he could, pixel by pixel.
"Well if it wasn't a bird or a plane then it must've been…," Sheila said dryly. Dave sighed heavily at that but didn't rise to the bait.
"Look if it's that important to you then at least tell me why," the teenager asked desperately. Dave shook his head.
"Not until I know for sure," he swore. "And I can't say anything more than that, for both our sakes."
"Dave, I'm telling you, whatever's out there, we can confront it together!" Sheila reprimanded. "You and me, we can do anything!"
"Yes, but can we fight the future?" Dave snapped.
"WHAT?" shouted Sheila bewildered. Dave waved it off.
"Never mind, I've said too much already," and then he shooed her away and slammed the doors shut on his van leaving the teenager fuming.
"Fine, be that way," she declared angrily and headed for her vehicle.
Kuwait: The OMAR Executives were now down to ten and looking all the more worse for wear, regardless of their disguised visages. On the screen above Number One flashed images of the destroyed conference room in the Sacramento Building.
"So in summation, nearest as we can tell they downloaded the contents of all the servers in an incredibly short period of time," Nine was reporting. "As for Seven and Eight, they're now in stable condition, but it was touch and go there for a little while."
"That's odd, why would they leave two OMAR Executives alive?" Four wondered aloud.
"Nearest as I can tell, their objective wasn't to destroy our facility in Sacramento, it was just to scare us," Nine figured. "After all, the servers are still intact and the conference room can be easily repaired and the local authorities paid off to not investigate further into what's in those rooms. Seven and Eight's condition was just a message, nothing more."
"Saying what?" asked Eleven. Nine shrugged.
"Based on Seven's delirious testimony, that they can get us whenever or wherever they want, but for right now they just want to be left alone," was the only response Nine could give.
"But that's not an option!" shouted Two. "They've beaten us twice already and I'm not going to see us defeated for a third."
"Nor do any of us, but I don't know what other choices we have at the moment," said Nine at a loss. One finally had had enough.
"What we do is analyze every square millimeter of that room and compile all the data we have from Sacramento and Mexico and we do not rest until we have some way of tracking those who are doing this to us!" One barked and then their image went dark. The other looked around at each other uncertainly before their images too winked off one by one as each tried to use their own avenues to discover what had happened to Seven and Eight.
Sacramento: OMAR repair crews were already at work fixing the top level of the building. But across the way, at a nearby parking garage, a man in a suit was busy going through readings and other pieces of evidence that he had confiscated from the building before the crews had had time to arrive. As he went through each item on the hood of his car, he summarily sealed all of it in different plastic bags.
"I wonder why he was using a contemporary roadkill mine," the agent wondered as he sealed up the remains of mine. "A regular one could have leveled the entire building."
The agent was so wrapped up in his work that he failed to hear the sounds of footsteps approaching him until the last second. As soon as he did, the agent pulled out a gun and aimed it at the individual, only to be taken aback by the appearance of a short green and gray alien who was holding a laser rifle at him. After a few tense moments of that, each slowly lowered their weapons until they stood facing each other.
"You shouldn't be here," the alien commented darkly.
"I know. And secretly, I was wondering if our little jaunts here would attract outside attention. I'm guessing that'd be you," admitted the agent resignedly. The alien made no motion to agree or disagree, but it did pointedly look at the evidence he had collected.
"If it means anything to you, I'm trying to stop them, but it hasn't been easy. Their actions make no sense whatsoever," the agent responded despondently as they leaned over the evidence as the alien walked up one of the wheel wells and now stood on the hood. It soon began sorting through the evidence as the agent stood, content to watch.
"The mess I'm into now is that despite all the chaos he's causing, he hasn't technically made a move for control yet. Until he does that, my hands are tied," said the agent as he held out his hands helplessly. The look of anger the alien's eyes as they shifted to stare at the agent caused him to involuntarily back up a step.
"If you don't stop them, then I'll stop you and then I'll stop them," the alien swore. It took one last look over the evidence and then took one bag in particular and promptly hopped off the vehicle and silently retreated to the shadows. The agent watched it go, briefly wondering if he should have asked the creature for help, but decided that its mind was already made up. Returning to the evidence, the agent began dictating more observations into his recorder when the sound of footsteps returning was heard.
"So what brings you-," began the agent turning around, expecting the alien.
SWISH
The agent suddenly found a katana blade pressed to his throat from a blue-suited woman as the older man who had raided the OMAR facilities stepped into the light from behind her as behind him, the individual with the orange-red eyes and cowboy hat stood solemnly farther back, both hands on the guns resting in their hip holsters.
"Hello agent, lovely day isn't it?" the man observed. The agent looked down at the blade hesitantly before a grin broke out across his face.
"Yeah, I'd say it is," he agreed cheerfully. "From what I heard, she isn't known to make footsteps when pursuing her target."
The older man laughed at that.
"She doesn't," he promised as a maniacal grin broke out across his face. "I made those footsteps for your sake."
The agent nodded as best he could with the blade pressed against it as the older man reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved his badge ID.
"Then why am I still alive?" the agent had to ask. The larger individual with the cowboy hat now approached the man as the blade seemed to lessen its push against his throat.
"Because Agent Chase," the older man explained, looking at the badge and then at him. "We have so much to talk about."
The cowboy grabbed the agent by the hands and forced them behind his back as the woman put her katana away as the trio then escorted the man from his vehicle and into the nearby Excelsior Stretch Limousine.
San Juan Valley: The sun was shining brightly over the acres and acres of fruit-bearing trees as birds sang happily to the entire farm. The farmhands went out to go work and began picking the fruits off the branches as others went about servicing the farm equipment and the wind turbines that helped power the place and thus reduce their need for fossil fuels. On a nearby dirt road leading to the farm, Sid Burn sat on the hood of his vehicle eating an apple as he watched the workers through the trees.
"You ready," he asked of Houston who had adopted a more human gesture of leaning to the side with her arms crossed since she had rebooted.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked curiously in a very human voice. Sid just shook his head, not sure what to make of her anymore, but was just glad that she was still willing to do the job they were assigned to do.
"Let's go," he ordered as he chucked the apple away and got into his vehicle and soon the two raced towards the farm and opened fire with their mosquito guns as across the farm, Convoy's Moth Truck and Chassey's Rattler also began firing on their opponents.