Rio Grande, Sigma Octanus IV
October 2, 2558
Director Sheen's smile faded as soon as the last person he wanted to be in a room with, walked straight into his office.
Alec Verdoorn had not discovered his lust for cold-blood murdering until war had erupted against the Covenant. Prior to his joining of the UNSC Marines, he had been a construction worker and a heavyweight cage fighter.
He and his Marine unit had spent glorious days killing grunts, jackals and elites by the hundreds. Most notably, he had numerous tattoos on his body, most notably four maroon energy sword images, the proof that he had once killed four sangheili zealots, all with his bare hands. By the time the UNSC had halted their war, he heard rumors of courts attempting to try those who had acted barbaric in their course of the fight. Of course, this would be highly controversial, as humanity would do whatever it took to survive and people were concerned about ethics, most of them not even participants in the conflict. This was something that humanity shouldn't have thought too much on. Who would care about ethics when a species is trying to fight for survival? This controversy was oppositely headed by the younger generations, far too young to witness the war's most horrific acts.
Determined to slaughter those responsible, he and others in his unit had gone rogue, mass murderers of this movement, young men and women. Countless numbers were tortured, beaten and killed in brutal ways that opposed their rightful beliefs just to instill fear in future opposition. It lasted for three glorious years until 2556. Verdoorn had been born with a different name had fled to South America and eventually Sigma Octanus IV because he surely knew that he would be one to top the list.
He had changed his name due to his Dutch heritage. Standing six feet and nine inches tall, he had the build of a wrestler and it wasn't just his size that made it hard for him to find his place in the underworld as an enforcer. Before, his street cunning and ruthlessness were rewarded time and time again and he cemented his reputation on the deaths on an entire group of Venezian weapon dealers trying to come in on the missile trade.
His first few years in Sigma Octanus were uneventful until one March day he had been detained by the police in a suspected murder about a month back. Verdoorn escaped, badly beating the officer and fled inside a community center.
Desmond Odgers happened to be present at the center, giving a lecture about the Societea's movement when Verdoorn had stumbled in, offering up his services in order to escape the police's vigilant eyes. Thus he merely decided to listen in to what the future Societea founder had to say.
Of course, during the lecture, Odgers did not single out any particular group of people when he joined the session, but his point was that humanity's expansion would result in a weaker society, which had to be stemmed and erased back so the healthy could thrive without incident. Of course, it wasn't encouraging violence, but Verdoorn's arrogant perspective believed that the issue was the inferior individuals he had slaughtered for years. The real meaning of the Societea didn't matter to him. Odgers knew that they were making enemies and he needed predators to go after them. They would need him to protect the group as well as make their enemies feel the wrath. Verdoorn wanted to be part of that.
He would continue his career, although now he was an enforcer for the Societea instead of drug lords and contraband dealers.
Sheen's smile faded as soon as he walked inside. Being able to contact Desmond Odgers was for the greater good. He had a fantastic penthouse atop one of Europa's most scenic areas and any number of willing women for his bed. His fraud business made him perfect. Sure he didn't agree with most of the Societea's beliefs and he never even would have looked into the Hidden Mantle, but his feigning was better than the most devout zealot and it was enough to convince just about anyone. The smiles and pleasantries he used with most others was lost when Verdoorn had arrived. The giant Dutch man was simply a psychopathic killer, although Sheen didn't know the background, he did know about his multiple run-ins with the moral aspects of the opposition to the Covenant war.
The rescue attempt to get Chase Rayson back had ended up in disaster, but Sheen thought that he could handle the fallout without the deranged lapdog of Odgers watching his every move. He admitted that he should have anticipated his office being under eavesdropping but he had said nothing really sensitive.
Verdoorn put a finger to his thin lips, effectively silencing any comment Sheen was going to make. He reached over, turning off the electronic jammer before taking a padlike device the size of a cell phone. He systematically swept the room, moving in an erratic pattern as if he had found what he was looking for. When he felt satisfied, he put it back in his pocket, pushing aside the silenced civilian pistol that had previously been the cutting edge handgun for choice for SOCOM forces about sixty years ago.
"No-"
The intensity of Verdoorn's icy soulless blue eyes were enough to once again quiet anything Sheen had to say. He reached inside the writing utensil cup and peeled the bug out. He wasn't familiar with the particular brand and model, but he recognized that it was just no ordinary recording device. The size meant that somewhere more than a mile out was a listening transmitter which moved the signal to wherever it was going to intelligence agencies, that meant searching for it would be fruitless.
He held the microphone up to his lips doing the best to mask the accent, "Transmission terminated." Then he squeezed it in his fist crushing it into powder. He relaxed, letting the crushed parts fall out onto the spotless floor, ignoring Sheen's disgusted stare. "Now you are free to speak."
"Did they only plant one?"
"I will have to sweep everywhere from the intruder's entrance to when they had arrived. They could have dropped eavesdropping devices all along their path."
"Oh. I didn't understand."
Verdoorn smirked, slightly. Of course, the naïve self-centered douchebag didn't. "Anything pertaining to the upcoming mission?"
"All of that is in my safe. Nothing with that is on the computer. It was the first thing I checked to see if it was intact after I spoke with Desmond."
Sheen didn't look like he was in much of a compliant mood, but Verdoorn just waited, tapping on the pistol, "Show me all of that material. I'm going to make sure it was not tampered."
The director went over to a frame of Kendra Floris in a blue bikini on the wall and pulled it aside after a brief second of admiring the actress' body. He shifted it aside and it revealed a large space with a plastasteel seal around. "The seal remained intact when I left and returned. Same with this picture, hadn't been moved.
Verdoorn sighed, not wanting to say that a professional team like the one that had raided would have remembered every spot and duplicated the seal if given enough time. However, he wasn't particularly concerned about the safe and its contents anyway. The team had kidnapped a Chase Rayson using a hired gun team and they probably had a deprogrammer. Verdoorn gritted his teeth when he suspected that the Hope psychiatrist was behind all of it.
"Here we are." Sheen handed him a manila folder after he keyed a four digit code following the seal's break. The log said it hadn't been opened in two days, which was when I had gotten updated from Desmond."
Once again, the Dutchman held back another sigh, even an amateur hacker would have easily erased the current log.
"Shut the safe."
"Okay." Sheen closed it and slid the picture back over, "I'll seal it later."
Alec was not amused at all. He had that ability to stand there and use merely intimidation for others to comply with what he intended without even having to speak.
"Okay, fine." A few minutes later, the picture was now over the sealed safe, hidden by the beautiful woman in the frame.
"What has Chase Rayson seen of our grand ambitions?"
Verdoorn was getting overly suspicious, making the room seem to drop a few degrees. Sheen decided that as soon as he left, he was appointing his assistant director and hopping to Cravate in New Corsica, where his emergency bank account was kept. Then he'd buy himself a quiet mansion, a few women and have no connections with the Societist movement. The colony had politely asked the group to not spread its activities there as it would discourage tourism. "Nothing so far. I do not let anyone except the staff go on Waypoint and holo viewing."
"Well Mister Odgers doesn't seem to trust you much." It was the first time Sheen had seen his icy demeanor seem to vanish.
"I beg to differ." Sheen protested, almost boldly standing up to the head enforcer, "He put me in charge of this retreat, so he trusts me as much as he does with you."
"In that case, I have already made my decision in what I shall do concerning this matter. Desmond and I agree that you are not fit to continue leading the retreat here. We can't tolerate a failure like this again."
The director stuttered, "What?"
"Before I dismiss you, I'll tell you something. Not two days ago, I participated in an operation on Uniform Alpha aboard the Sub-Aqua resort. I have seen people die there in the most glorious ways in my career. They even exceeded the elite zealots I had killed with my bare hands." Verdoorn lifted the sleeve on his bicep to the four maroon tattoos of energy swords. "I later sent explosive drones to scuttle the evidence so nobody would find it for a long time. It didn't matter, men, women, children, elderly. All dead."
"This can't be right."
"Oh but it is." Verdoorn unclipped the pistol from his belt, "We are now taking what our founder has laid out for us and put them into action."
Suddenly he looked over to the door leading to the back of the director's house. "Oh it seems that we have a visitor."
Sheen turned, a big mistake.
Verdoorn slammed the back of the pistol into the director's temple, careful not to knock him unconscious. Sheen fell back, crumpled against the wall. He raised his arm in defense, but it was suppressed by a muted cough and he let out a pained cry as the bullet went straight through his shoulder. Blood seeped out, in quantities that Sheen didn't believe was possible.
He leveled the pistol at the groaning man. "I hereby relieve you of your duties."
The next bullet tore straight through the forehead, ripping into the brain and eventually burying itself on the side of the wall. Blood sprayed all over the wall and the room was insulated to make sure it wasn't audible beyond the boundaries.
He made sure that Sheen's corpse held the sidearm before taking off the silencer. The fact was to convince police that he had simply committed suicide. A flask of cheap whiskey was put in his other hand and some of it dribbled on his face.
Verdoorn had a sharp memory and that was what counted. He ripped down Floris' photograph and broke the seal once more. It took less than a second to type in the four numbers that he memorized from watching the director eariler and the door swung open.
Inside the safe, aside from wads of cash were the files of every single member inside this Societea retreat. He shuffled through the R section until he found the Rayson Chase T. file, a manila folder that was a little thinner than its neighbors since it was new.
He sat himself at the desk, busied with the file's contents. He had a lot of research to do.
It was nearing dusk when he left, but to add the final touch, he slid the office's status to: Do Not Disturb.
I guess you could say of the movement that Desmond Odgers is the brains, Karin Odgers is the face and Verdoorn...the muscle. He's scary! To think that he killed four elite zealots with his bare hands, that's something you normally see a Spartan doing. Thanks to a friend for letting me use his character, I hope ya like it!
Thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.