He jerked awake, soaked in beads of sweat. He tossed the covers off of him, sliding his feet to the ground. He placed a gentle touch around his neck, breathing so rapidly as if he had just broken to the surface from under water. He sat there, holding his head in his hands, the images of those beasts burnt into his mind.
"It was just a dream Petrov. Just in your head." Fuze was rolled over his back facing Anthony.
"I didn't even say anything." He clamed his breathing.
"You didn't have to. After a while, the sound of a fresh nightmare becomes like a sixth sense."
"I'll be back." Anthony threw on a pair of pants and a coat, forgetting any boots. He shut the door to the bunker and sat underneath a tree. The leaves crunched as he brough his knees to his chest.
He had experienced "bad dreams" many times before. This was something of a different breed. This felt so vivid, so close. He could feel every surface, smell every putred scent. It disturbed him more than anything ever had. It wasn't the feeling of dying that had him to his breaking point. It was the feeling that this somehow had something to do with his father, the familiar prescence it had. It was terrifying.
He sat there, letting his mind drift. Listening to the sounds of leaves blowing, trees swaying. It calmed him, center him back to reality.
"Comrade." Perseus snuck up from behind him.
He jumped, his Redeemer in hand. "Sorry, I was just a bit... cautious."
"Something on your mind?" He stood beside the younger man, seeing his clothing he had an idea he rushed to get out of the bunker.
"No, no sir." His family knew him to never be a good liar. If they could wait another thirteen years or so, maybe they would say otherwise. But that was a ways away.
"You were trembeling, boy. You wear your fearful enotions on your sleeve." The older man observed.
He kept his eyes to the ground, his stomach feeling sick.
"What's got you like this?" Silence. "I can't send you into the field if your head isn't right. It will be sure to affect your actions and we cannot risk the outcome of operations, you know." He cleared his throat.
"I... I saw them as clearly as I see you now." His stare was blank.
"Saw what?"
"Those beasts."
"Sounds, interesting." Perseus raised his brow, Anthony having finished telling him everything. "I've been meaning to get you evaluated. Just for your health. I want to make sure all of my men are in their best condition."
"At this time of night?" He sounded curious.
"Doctors are always on duty, switching shifts. Their work is important. Come, it won't take long."
They walked back inside, one of the doctors sat Anthony down in a seat. Perseus stood beside him.
"And why do you need so much of my blood?" He asked the lady, sticking a needle into his arm.
"Its just procedure. Not only do we need your blood type but depending on which type you are it can greatly benefit the injured soldiers who can receive it." The lady explained.
"How soon can I know what I am?"
"Just a few days, I'll tell you if they find anything abnormal in your blood." Perseus spoke up.
"Abnormal?"
"If you have any traits for potential health risks, this could tell us."
"Of course." Anthony replied. He was always skeptical when it came to his body in a lab of some sort.
Perseus escorted him out of the medical bay after everything was finished. "Here take these, they will help ease your mind." He handed Anthony a small bottle with little capsules in it, medication.
"Thank you, sir. Truly." He took the older man's hand, patting his shoulder with his free one.
Two months had passed since the begining of his "dreams". Every time it happened he was always somewhere new. One time he even found himself in a house that looked disturbingly similar to the one he grew up in. Sometimes he survived them, sometimes he didn't. But luckily the medication he was given did help ease his anxiety. He found that without it, the simole falling of a leaf could set him off, putting him in a more unstable mindset. He was getting used to shoving aside those vivid and gruesome nightmares and bring his mind back to what was real.
A few weeks ago..
"Doctor, what do we have?" Perseus met the woman in her office. He made sure to shut off all survalence and audio recordings in the room.
"Here, have a look." She placed a blood film under the microscope.
"What am I looking at?" His eyes to the lenses, watching the cells.
"Look at the way his cells react when exposed to the the same materials from the portal that Alistair traveled through."
He watched as the small orbs coincided with the materials. "Fascinating.." he smiled, still eyeing the sample.
"Now come over here." She walked over to another microscope. "Watch what happens when the materials are exposed to the cells of any other soldiee." She slid the film underneath the scope.
"Your saying Pentrenko was right?" He watched the purple essence disentigrate the other human cells.
"I had read the files and held the samples he sent over a few weeks ago. I didn't want to beleive him, thought he was mad. So I wanted to see for myself. Pentrenko and his team knew something was off about him, about his DNA, they just couldn't figure out what."
"Well Doctor, it seems you have pinpointed it." He congradulated her.
"Sir, I tested his blood with that of the undead flesh samples that were pulled back during the second world war. The way the flesh bent to the will of his cells... sir he is dangerous to keep alive." She lowered her voice.
"Well of course he is, otherwise he wouldn't be worth anything to this country. You have done well Doctor. But nobody must ever know about this, not even the boy himself."
"I understand."
"Whatever Alistair brought back has seemed to travel with his son. Which is probably the source to his very detailed dream sequances. That is another dimension entirely that we simply don't have the time to explore into." He picked up one small tube of Anthony's blood. "Destroy the rest. All of it, samples, reports, images. Anything that can lead to this revelation."
"Of course."
December 16, 1969.
England
Perseus had breifed them, telling them of how important this op was. What mission wasn't? He had an exciting urge about this one. They were tasked with eleminating CIA operatives with vital intel involving specific locations of seperate American nukes. The agents were said to be departing the UK through the airport. Their job was to prevent that from happening at all.
They all dressed in uniforms that didn't belong to them. Emblems of a pheonix on their shoulders that didn't mean anything to them. IRA.
"We have intel suggesting our nuisance may be present in the area. Thomas Park. Responsible for some of out previous setbacks, if spotted, I want him eleminated." Persues had showed them a picture of the man on their radar before they left.
Anthony thought the man's background interesting. He was anything but a truthful soul. From the info on his file he had his family fooled into beleiving he worked as a pilot, flying people around. Everyone except his father, who only knew half the truth. Not that his father wasn't less involved with dangerous figures. He was a clever double agent for NATO, very vital to MI6. But that would soon change.
They all dressed in dark military green, long sleeves and pants. A face covering with sunglasses and a black barret camoflauged any expressions on their faces.
Stitch and his crew were to breach from the roof of the airport, shattering through the glass, while Kardivar and three other Perseus soldiers would push the targets towards the entrance of the building. In his opinion, it wasn't the smartest strategy, but Stitch was leading this, if anything this would be his failure if things went wrong.
"Any sign of them?" Stitch asked through comms, his squad on the roof with him.
"Not yet, we're early. Keep your eyes open, perhaps they might show up sooner than we anticipate." The man replied, he and the other three soldiers waiting in a vehicle by the street.
Anthony crouched, his hands holding the edge of the glass frame. Watching all the people manuver as if they were a bed of ants. "Targets spotted, they're heading your way. One brown trench coat, one brown leathee jacket, and one with a black trench coat, you can't miss their black hats." Kardivar alerted them all.
"Spotted." Stitch responded, he and the other three gathering around the large glass pannels. "Engaging." They all busted the glass, tossing ropes and smoke as they slid down. People screamed, scattering everywhere. Anthony saw their enemies immidiatly take cover, drawing their pistols.
"One down!" Fuze placed a nasty bullet through one the enemy's hearts. "I have eyes on the second!"
"We need to find their third!" Jackal tossed a flash.
Anthony turned his back to a nearby wall for cover as he reloaded. As he did so he spotted the third on the second floor, his weapon aimed at Stitch who was oblivious to the counter.
"Stitch! Watch-" the bullet had already been fired, peircing their commander's stomach. Anthony dragged him off towards a wall, providing cover. "Get your... hands off of me!" He struggled to speak through the pain, letting out a nasty cough. Pulling out a stim he stuck it in Stitch's arm. "Next time I wont be there to save you." He said coldly before rushing back into the field.
"Commander Kuzmin is injured. I've eyes on a target, second floor, 6 o-clock! Let me take care of our 12."
"And who put you in charge Petrov?" Kardivar took cover beside him.
"You don't assume the postion of a commander by simply letting it happen Kardivar. Thats why I'm making it happen!" He popped another smoke canister rushing towards their third target.
Tired of reloading he placed the weapon on his back and drew his knife. Hearing the agent's footsteps he creeped his way behind the man. Placing his hand around his neck and peirced his blade into his chest multiple times until the body became limp. "Target down." He said, the body dropping to the ground. The smoked cleared.
"Same here. But it seems we have more company to deal with." Ortega finished just as they were all surrounded by local authorites.
"Drop your weapons!" One of the officers said, at least a dozen of them surrounding the area.
"Weapon, down!" An officer near Anthony shouted.
"I'm placing it down. See." He let his ak-47u touch the ground. As it did he pulled the trigger, a flash canister shooting from the underbarrel. As the nearby offciers were tenporarily blinded, he manuvered behind one of them, using the man as his shield. Shooting offciers one by one, the others did the same. Anthony dropped the body, the corpse full of bullet holes. He looked up, scanning the crowd as they panicked in fear, scattering everywhere.
"Finish them off, I have eyes on Park." He left the others rushing after the other man who was attempting to leave. He followed the man wearing a brown leather jacket and hat, until they reached just in front of the entrance. He had a hard time getting close to Thomas. "Move faster!" He fired his weapon up in the air, impatient. Children screamed, women snatching them to saftey, men fleeing. They cleared out in a matter of moments. He watched as Thomas took cover behind a nearby counter, drawing his pistol.
Anthony opened fire from behind a wall. He saw his bullet skim the surface of the man's shoulder. He heard a small but painful scream, followed by a clicking sound.
"Come on! Your more than just a firearm arn't you!" Anthony peaked around the corner, seeing the man stand up, tossing his weapon across the floor.
"You should take better care of that revolver, it looks to be a rare edition." He observed the accessories on the weapon, tossing his own aside, stepping into the center of the room, matching up with the man.
"Your a clever one Park. I assume you must get it from your father." He toyed with him, slowly moving around each other around in a circle.
"You know nothing about him.." he narrowed his eyes, tossing a swift right hook.
"I don't need to know about him. Because I already know enough about you. So tell me Barthalomew, how is your mother?" His smile was hidden underneath the covering of his face.
The man came at him, kick after kick, punch after punch. All of them Anthony dodged and countered with a jab here and there to get tired the other man out. A great tactic that had been used to train him, something that helped with his patients.
"Only cowards hide behind a mask!" Thomas yelled.
"You know, its amazing how in their final moments people show you who they really are. Tell me Agent Park, who are you?" Anthony removed his face cover, hat, and glasses.
They fought back and forth for what seemed like ages. Thomas had landed a knee to his nose, causing blood to trickle down. Thomas hadn't gone unscathed himself, having taken the skim of a bullet and most likely a broken rib from a powerful suplex. Anthony set up a swift kick to the head when Thomas countered, catching the leg. He was spun to the ground, landing on his stomach. Feeling weight on his back he saw Thomas' feet in front of him. Anthony tried to reach for his weapon on the ground, just fingertips away. Thomas planted his boot into the man's hands several times as he placed a choking grip around Anthony's neck.
Gathering up what strength he had left he began to spread apart Thomas' grip. As he did so he began his way up, one knee the ground, his other foot stable, pushing upwards. He broke free, charging the man.
"You look tired." Thomas said, Anthony circling him around.
"And you look like a deadman." Anthony shot back, his shirt smeared with his own blood.
"When they had warned me Perseus was sending someone to kill me I was expecting someone a bit.. older." Thomad smiled.
Anthony rushed him, Thomas deflecting what he could but his enemy was too fast, a burst of energy radiating from the younger man.
Anthony laid in punch after punch. "Is that the best you got?!" Thomas yelled, taking a step back. With one thundering headbut, Thomas stumbled. Anthony kicked the back of his leg from underneath him. Seeing the man weaken and tire he crouched beside him, working his injured ribs with a few more beatings. Seeing his nearby pistol Thomas outstretched his weakened arm. Anthony watched as his fingertips barely brushed the hilt of the weapon before planting his boot on the man's hand, crushing his fingers.
He picked the pistol up, removing his boot. "Pathetic." He replaced his boot by peircing his knife through his flesh. The man cried out in pain, attempting to remove the blade but not having the strength to do so.
"Perseus will be pleased with these reults. I'll get recognition because of this moment right here." He crouched, towering over the dark brown haired man. He grabbed him by the back of his head, looking into his eyes. "This is personal. Even if it wasn't your doing, it was those who employ you who set my loved ones ablaze. I should let you burn like they did, instead I'll let your family weap like I did." He pointed the pistol to the man's temple. "And the best part.." Anthony chuckled. "they'll think it was someone else, that you just so happened to be caught in the middle of crossfire." He watched the man cough uo blood.
"But don't worry," he lowered his voice, whispering into his ear, speaking over Thomas' ragged breathing. "I'll see to it that your sister is taken care of." Anthony had the biggest grin on his face seeing the man's eyes go wide seconds before the shot was fired. He let the man's head rest, grabbing his knife and putting it back into its holster. He enjoyed the times when his assumptions were correct. His file never metioned any siblings which indicated to him that he had tried to pretend that they didn't exist when he was on duty. He knew it was Thomas trying to protect them. He happened to guess correctly, the terrified look on the man's face confirmed that.
"Target down." He tossed the pistol aside before picking up his own weapon and regrouping with the others.