Ch.36

Sly

I wasn't sure what to say. I never knew Murray had thought this out so well and so thoroughly. It was almost as thought he knew he wasn't going to make it. It just didn't sound like his normal self. It didn't have his cocky pride and bravado of 'The Murray'. This was a legitimate goodbye statement. Surely he couldn't have known he would go out like he did but still, I just wasn't prepared for what was said. I put the piece of paper back into the file folder and put it on the table in front of me where it slid midway across until it stopped in the middle. Bentley picked it up and read it silently with Penelope while I picked up and opened Sierras file. To my surprise it was almost empty. All that there was was a flashdrive. I picked it out of a plastic bag tucked into a pocket built into the file wall and weighed it in my hand.

"Bentley, can the bunker play something on a flashdrive?" I asked from across the table. I kept examining the flashdrive. 'No Tomorrow' was engraved into one side of the metallic device.

I could see Bentley look up from Murrays will from the corner of my eye.

"Yes, of course," He closed the file and stood up as I handed him the flashdrive, "Want to do this now?"

I nodded.

We all gathered ourselves and walked out to the bunker. The big door still had a huge charred spot on it from when the Fangs attacked and tried to blow it open. It barely showed any signs of damage as it slowly creeped open as though nothing had happened. Upon walking inside Bentley immediately went over to a console and plugged it in. The giant screen at the end of the bunker hall turned on and a loading bar appeared on it as we all stood in front of the couches. The page filled rather quickly with lines and lines of code and a password prompt appeared in its place. Did Sierra really anticipate her will being stolen enough to put a password lock on it? It must be important then to feel like you needed to protect something even after death.

"The password is hardwired into the flashdrive so I can't hack it," Bentley said from behind the bar counter off to the side. He peeked over the side and put an arm on the countertop, "I think we definitely need that Scrapbook now."

Carmelita

So we searched again and again we found nothing throughout the entire house. But then I remembered something. Bentley's father pointed at Sierras scrapbook as an incredibly important item and the fact that it's hers means that she would probably have it nearby at all times. But that was the problem. Of all people besides John, I spent the most time with her. I got to know her the most out of everyone here and if there was anything I learned is that she hated her past. In fact she rarely even spoke of it. So why have a scrapbook? Or maybe it wasn't just a scrapbook to her…

I called everyone together in the living room after about an hour of searching.

"Did you find something?" Bentley immediately asked upon coming into sight from the staircase.

"No, but what if that's the point?" I started when we had all gathered, "We've looked all throughout the house and we didn't find anything. But what if it's not in the house?"

"But where else would it be?" asked Sly.

"I think I know," I answered, "I knew Sierra fairly close. We talked a lot and I got to know her and the one thing I learned about her is she would rather leave the past behind to live her life as it is now. So why would she have a book containing all the memories of a past life she only wanted to forget in the house she wanted to start a new one in?" I let it sink in, "what we need to ask ourselves is where are the things she wants to forget?"

Again, there was a silence as the words sunk in. I pondered them myself, but in all honesty, even I didn't know where else to look. The bunker could take forever to look through as we didn't even know how deep into the ground it went. So where else could it be? Could it be buried beneath the house somewhere? Or maybe it's hidden out in the woods in a concealed location that they never showed us. The thought of searching the entire property came to mind and the idea of searching for months on end surfaced. We didn't have that much time to lose on a wild goose chase. There had to be another way.

Finally Bentley broke the silence, "Well, if she wanted to forget something, she wouldn't go there. She would put everything that reminded her of her past life in a place she would never need to go to again. The only place that I can think of that she would really never have a reason to go is the hangar. The only time anyone ever goes in there is when we need to prepare for a mission. If there's no mission, then there's no reason to go there. And if there's no reason to go there, it makes for a good place to forget about things," he looked around at us, "so are we going to stand around and talk about it some more or are you all convinced enough to get off your asses and take a walk?"

So we took a walk through the cool midnight air to the hangar. We opened a door on the side of the big main door and filed in. Still, the AC-130 was in shambles. I honestly couldn't say whether it was totalled or just in need of a simple fix but a fair assumption would say that it was unsafe to fly. Everywhere else had machine parts scattered around. In preparation for our missions, I had personally never actually been in here. Mostly because I never had to. But the first thing I noticed besides the gunship was the big concrete structure built into the back of the hangar. It had a big steel door that creaked when Sly carefully opened it. Inside was as dark as could be at first but when I flicked on a nearby wall switch, fluorescent ceiling light fixtures flooded the room with a brilliant white light. Before us was a very strange arsenal with unusually large weapons that were too big for a normal person to hold. There were display cases that lined the walls and inside each of them were Knight armors. I counted 9 cases with suits of varying sizes and types. A few had what looked like a jet engine strapped to its back and exhaust vents coming out of the extremities. Some were actually smaller than the others. Only two came close to resembling the suits John and I wore in Denmark. But there were others missing. In fact, of the 9, there were only 5 suits present. We all took a moment to admire them but I went around and looked at the names above the cases on plaques of those who's suits were missing. Slowly walking by I read the names in my mind; 'John, no surprise there. Sierra, again, not too surprised, Steven Algof? I bet it was the one Sly used to save me in. It's a nice look. Ivan Burkov…' Something caught my eye as I stopped in front of the empty armor case. Behind the clear glass, a message was jaggedly etched into the steel backing and a knife was stuck firmly below it. Of all things to say, the inscription read, 'Never needed it.' Why would someone say they didn't need something like the Knight Armor? Maybe they we're just stubborn. Or maybe, judging by how the knife was stuck through the steel and concrete that made up the walls, maybe he was just that strong…

I had to take my mind off of it before I delved too deep into the subject. We were looking for the scrapbook afterall, not the meaning behind an aggressive carving. Keeping a steady pace walking along the wall, my eyes wandered to a floor-to-ceiling cabinet with steel grate doors at the end of the room. It sat alone on its own wall. Through the metal grate, I could clearly see 6 swords hanging on the wall behind it. Walking closer to them, I could see that they were also labeled with names. Now I was starting to think that they were the old Warfighters John told us about. He never told us who they were or what their names were, but he did say was that once there were more.

I scanned each and every single one and each one was identical. The same 5 foot sword with the same bandguard and the same strange symbol etched into the blade near the handguard. It didn't do anything but for one reason or another, just looking at it sent chills up my spine. I couldn't explain how it felt, but all I knew was it was unnatural. Then my gaze fell to the floor and at the base of the case just below the last sword was a thick book with a polaroid picture on the front. I kneeled at the base of the cabinet and upon closer inspection the picture was of her in full army gear while holding an M4, smiling as she stood on a grassy hill that sloped down to a field that eventually touched the ocean. This was it. I had to be it.

I stood back up and found the handle to open the grate. Upon turning it, the symbol etched into the swords started to faintly emitt a ghostly red hue, not as intense as the glow of Johns but still equally unsettling. I reeled backward in surprise, letting one of the doors swing open and clang against the metal frome as it opened to its full extent. I stayed for a moment, mesmerized by the glow. I wasn't sure whether I was intrigued by the red mark or terrified in how I felt like they would somehow come to life and attack me. Either way, it was unsettling as hell. I carefully bent down and snatched the book up from the floor of the cabinet and closed the door again to the cabinet. The glow of the swords intensified once again but faded once more as I backed away. Soon, they were as dormant and lifeless as they were before.

"Are you ok?" asked Sly.

I whipped around to see him with a very concerned look on his face. But this wasn't a cute, playful kind of concern. He looked almost scared in the way he examined me for whatever reason.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it," I said, holding up the book and waving it, "I found the book. Let's get out of here." Just then I saw Bentley and Penelope behind Sly examining two of the armors. "What're they looking at?"

Sly traced my vision and I followed him over to Bentley.

"Did you find something?" He asked.

"I found two somethings," he pointed to the overhead nameplates above two of the suits and what they said shocked me. One of them I saw coming to some extent as it was labeled Oscar. But the other I wasn't expecting at all. It was labeled Connor Cooper. Sly's dad was a Warfighter?

Sly

I just stared at the armor through the glass case. I can't believe he never told me anything about this. On one hand it was awsome. My dad was even more of a badass that I had originally thought. He was both a master thief and a Warfighter. But on another I felt betrayed. How could he have kept something like this from me? Did he not want me to know? And most importantly, why? I wish I could go back to that dream to ask him more questions. But just then I wondered, was it the Warfighters fault that he died? Was it his fault that Clockwerk found us all that time ago and killed him and my mom? Or was it the Warfighters? Did the Warfighters have a part in the deaths of my parents? My mind was flooding with thoughts and possibilities but I couldn't make sense of any of them. So I did the next best thing.

"Let's get out of here," I said as I pushed past everyone. I left the concrete structure and walked ahead to the Bunker.

It wasn't too long of a walk but I still felt the need to be alone. Upon turning the corner to enter the bunker I let myself fall against the wall and slide down to the concrete floor. I put my elbows on my knees and my hands on my head. All this time I had been trying to keep a level head. Trying to keep my cool. But now I could feel it all breaking down. Was this how John felt? Is this how he feels now? I let my head drop between my knees and I closed my eyes for a few precious seconds in an effort to try and regulate my breathing.

While I was on the ground, I felt a soft hand on my shoulder.

"Sly?" I heard Carmelitas voice and I took my hands off my head and peeked my head back up to see her kneeling in front of me, "Oh god, are you ok?"

I noticed then that I was crying. What the hell was I doing? I didn't even know anymore. Feeling as though all the strength had been sapped from my body, I leaned forward and pulled her in close. For just a moment I felt a little better and for today at least, I had had enough.

Bentley

By the time we had arrived back at the bunker, both Sly and Carmelita were gone. I could see the upstairs lights had recently come on so I assumed they had gone up for bed. That left me and Penelope to read over the book. Fair enough, they wouldn't have been able to do much anyways. So without any delay, she and I went into the back room and got to work.

The minutes turned into hours as we sifted through the book, not because of the size, granted it was rather thick, but it was more impressive in the meaningfulness of the pictures. I counted at least two hundred pages and on each one was a handful of photos that pertained to their own separate mission. Turning page after page, I could make out different environments, from hilly plains to dense forests. From elegant city high-rises to what I made out to be a battleship in the middle of the ocean. And she was never alone in any of the pictures. She always shared the frame with at least one other person, whom I could easily assume to be other Warfighters. There was John in most of them whereas a certain Racoon was nowhere to be found. I then started to think that maybe the three never knew each other. Given what had happened to Connor, I wouldn't be surprised. And on the inside of the back cover there was a landscape photo with all of the Warfighters in casual clothes with the exception of Connor who was again nowhere to be seen. Sierra had her arms around John while they stood in the middle of the picture. Looking at them all reminded me us our gang before Murray died. They seemed like a family.

After glancing over all the photos the first time, we had come across nothing of use. No cleverly hidden numbers, no words hidden in the background of the photos, not even the call sign of a plane or helicopter. So we read it over again, and again, and again. We scanned each and every image into Hectors computer and even digitally altered the contrast levels of the photos. Still nothing of use. At 5 in the morning we finally gave up. It was a lot less about needing rest and more about just being frustrated. After all this time and all the puzzles i've solved, I was being felled by a simple hidden code. I was out of patience and out of mental energy. In all honesty, I just wanted to look at something else. Of all things, maybe a good movie. I've recently heard of a new movie that came out about dreams and delving into one's mind. While movies weren't really my thing, I was intrigued by this one. I stood up and turned to Penelope.

"I think I'm about done for tonight," I said, making her jump slightly as though in a daze, "Wanna come with me to watch a movie?"

"No it's ok, you go," she responded, placing her arms on the desk and turning back to the book, "I just want to get some progress on this code."

"If you say so," I replied reluctantly, "just don't stay up too late."

Just then I saw her head fall hitting the table. A moment later I could make out a light snore.

"Told ya so," I quietly teased as I tried to lay her back in her chair. But after seeing how laughably uncomfortable she looked, I thought about it again and made a decision. I leaned over and pulled her arm around my neck to stabilize and picked her up in my arms. Rather romantic really, like when we had first met and she saved my in Blood Bath Bay. It felt warm and fuzzy. Whatever it is, I liked it.

I carried her into the house and to her room where I laid her down in her bed, caringly pulling the covers over her. But then something unexpected happened. As I pulled away, her arm fell against my leg. And I felt it! I hadn't felt anything below the pelvis in years, since I had been paralyzed when we took down Neyla. I didn't understand how or why I could feel it, but her touch on my skin was electrifying. But still, I just couldn't understand how it was possible. So I did the next best thing. Nothing. I walked out of her room and softly closed the door behind me. Walking back to my room I contemplated to myself what I had just felt. Was it really possible that I could have full sensation in my legs again? Maybe I could even use them again. For the first time, I felt hope for myself. And maybe, I could truly be my own man. I continued to think as I slowly walked to my room, listening to the near silent whir of the motors that powered the legs. Secretly wondering if there could be a day where I might not need them anymore.