Due to the writing efforts of some very eager Black Ops: Cold War fans, I have no choice but to remove from my profile the distinction this story has as the longest one that takes place within the Black Ops campaign continuity! I guess the 5-year head start I had was not enough for someone as slow as me, lol.
Side by side, on separate tables, laid the bodies of Sarah Hall and Aart De Klerk – or at least, someone who looked an awful lot like Aart De Klerk.
Quite the dichotomy.
One had three gaping bullet wounds, dried blood trailing a few inches out of each one. One was unblemished, pristine, almost a wax figure.
One was dead and one was alive.
Kane was joined in her staring contest with these bodies by Mills. They seemed to recognize some level of either solemnity or deduction happening in Kane's head, and as such stayed mostly silent.
Mostly.
"So…" they posed.
"So?" Kane responded.
Mills sighed. "You're going to have to explain this to Alessandra."
"You mean Outrider?" she replied, still not turning her head to face them.
"Yeah…"
"Well," Kane started, "the prerequisite for explaining something is having an explanation to begin with. I don't."
"Does Occam's Razor come to mind? I ran the DNA test myself. Twice actually."
Kane shook her head. "There isn't a simple answer. Why don't you go ask Outrider if her friend going nuts like he just did makes any goddamn sense?"
"Jessica is trying to calm her down. She's the closest thing to a mother figure in her life…" Mills said matter-of-factly.
"If she's the mother, what does that make you? A sibling? Cousin?…different kind of relation?" Kane sneered.
"Jesus fucking Christ," muttered Mills. "What is going on with you?"
Kane wiped her face with her hand. "I didn't mean it. I'm just…"
"Tired? You look…bad, Kane. I'm trying not to sound like a dick here, but…" Mills trailed off.
"Point taken," Kane interrupted. "Paszek is…gone. I'm still holding on to the idea that he's alive, but…" she stopped herself.
Mills exhaled. "Trust me, I know what it's like to be, erm…emotionally compromised."
Kane turned away from them. "The only person in this building that I fully trust is unconscious on the table. Wes had a perfect score for a few days…" she stumbled. "Whatever brought Aart here and made him act the way he did, well…it makes things far worse and much more confusing than I thought they could be."
"To the best of my knowledge, I am neither a clone nor a doppelgänger," Mills said, deadpan.
Kane didn't react.
"It's in all of our best interests to find Paszek and revive Hall, okay?" Mills posed. "Maybe Jessica has other ideas, but I have no plans of staying a fugitive from the state for my entire life. The press never fully understood the Coalescence leaks, and our bosses were never going to bend to internal pressure."
"And what is your solution, exactly?" Kane asked.
"We make their bosses do something about it," they answered. "The directors have been able to convince the White House that Project Prometheus is ancient history. But the new Congressional committees on transhumanism and foreign affairs-"
"Aren't going to do shit, regardless of how progressive they sound," Kane fired.
"You think they wouldn't hear out the people that handed them the Pentagon bomber on a silver platter?"
"Right now, they probably think that I'm that person. Even assuming I can bring in Savior alive…" Kane protested.
"That is a terrible idea," Mills declared.
"If you actually want a pardon, it's your only idea, frankly," Kane responded.
"I know that the phrase 'one step at a time' doesn't exactly resonate with you, but maybe you should consider how you're going to confront Savior and live before getting caught in the weeds of what happens after."
Kane let out a frustrated scoff. "Isn't that what this entire conversation is about?"
Mills frowned. "I'm…going to see if Alessandra is doing any better."
"You mean Outrider?"
"Yeah," they breathed. "Yeah…"
Fierro didn't say a word as he slowly pulled his hand back from Paszek's face. Halfway through the motion, he quickly put his opposite hand up to his own face.
Bare skin. The mask was on the floor, figuratively lying next to the façade of Savior itself. It was all out in the open now.
And despite being tied to a chair, Paszek somehow felt just a little bit on top in this situation. Not that it would last. He stared Fierro straight in the eyes, daring him to speak first.
Suddenly the thought sprang in Paszek's head that the EMP wave was inactive. He tensed his arms up in an effort to snap the restraints, but only a human level of power went behind his movements. He was just too exhausted. Well, at least he wasn't brain dead.
"And…" Fierro huffed, voice modulator evidently on the floor as well. "So, it continues…"
Paszek took this opportunity to spit out the blood that had been pooling in his mouth. It landed squarely on Fierro's chest, with some splattering up to onto his neck.
"You've earned that much, I suppose," Fierro muttered, seemingly unconvinced of himself. He started to leave the room, but turned around halfway.
"There will be more, Captain," he spoke, confidence regained. "More to see, more to understand."
"Sure," Paszek responded halfheartedly. "Keep trying. Eventually, someone will find me here."
Fierro nodded. "They will."
"But they won't be prepared for what they find next to your corpse."
"You didn't trust the blood cultures I ran?" asked Wes.
"It's not personal," Kane responded bluntly.
She was telling the truth, mostly. De Klerk apparently turning rouge was more than enough for Kane to compartmentalize any reasons she had to trust, well…anyone. Her own sense of reality was crumbling as it stood already – sentient AIs, consciousnesses stored inside DNIs…hell, she still couldn't really wrap her head around Hall's survival. Whatever the case, a simple manic episode wasn't a complete explanation for De Klerk's actions. It went deeper than this. It had to.
"Forgive me for feeling like it is…" Wes pouted. "Rachel, I'm here because I trust you. I'd appreciate some reciprocity here."
"Wes, I'm concerned about someone trying to kill the both of us. I'm leaving professional courtesy on the backburner for now."
"Fair enough," said Wes, moving out of the way so Kane could grab the blood vials she'd drawn from De Klerk, with some of her own used as a control group.
"Besides…" Kane started, "I need you focused on Hall. You've taken inventory of everything that De Klerk brought?"
"Yeah," Wes breathed. "To the best of my knowledge, it's all what I asked for. There's some propranolol, too. Those are-"
"Beta blockers," Kane interrupted.
"Uh, yeah…" Wes said awkwardly. "I didn't see any hypertension or anything like that in Hall's medical file. Think it was a mistake?"
Kane had almost forgotten that Winslow had been able to snag the medical records (despite them being well above her clearance level) and wire them over.
"Those could have been Aart's," Kane posed.
"I would have thought so, too, but…" Wes turned to pull over De Klerk's backpack, rummaging through it with one hand. "His meds were in this…this looks like his personal bag. The propranolol pills were stored in the same compartment as the other supplies, hidden in the suitcase lining."
Kane didn't have another lie prepared.
"Eh, it's not much to get so caught up on. Sorry," Wes added, unknowingly saving Kane's ass once again. "Have you tried these coffee rolls that O.R brought?" he beamed. "They're fantastic. Honestly, it's a lost art, everyone's all about fritters these days, and-"
"Wes…" Kane butted lightly.
"I know, sorry," he replied. "Just, uh, making sure you were paying attention."
She certainly noticed that Wes already had a nickname for Outrider.
"Do you have everything you need?" Kane asked, changing the topic.
"Almost," Wes replied. "Information that I gathered from the Coalescence leaks tells us that her DNI automatically monitors and regulates some key body functions – heart rate, blood pressure, et cetera. My hypothesis is that the Pentagon doctors somehow tricked her DNI into thinking that she should be asleep, in some kind of hyper-stasis mode."
"What makes you say that?"
"In a natural coma, you'd be seeing involuntary muscle flexes, bodily fluids occasionally leaking, stuff like that. She doesn't show any of those signs. However, her blood oxygenation levels are incredibly low…so low that you'd think she had sickle cell anemia. They'd never let someone with sickle cell enlist…."
"Why hasn't the oxygen we've been feeding her done anything?" Kane queried.
"That's just the thing," Wes started. "Hall's body is taking in the oxygen, but it's wasting most of that oxygen before it actually does anything. That's…a difficult thing to do. Until we can switch off this 'stasis mode' or whatever it is, that's going to keep happening."
"We need to force her body into thinking it's awake," said Kane, now starting to get it.
"And to that end…I'll need some blood. Some O positive blood that's incredibly rich in oxygen," Wes stated.
Kane cocked her head, finally placing the blood vials into the sequencing machine. "I'm O negative."
"I'm afraid that's not good enough," Wes shook his head. "Not because of your blood type. We're not even 140 feet above sea level."
"Got it…" said Kane. She'd had an epiphany. "I'm ordering two tires and some regulation-standard O positive, direct from Denver."
"Blood doping…" Wes murmured. "I suppose the tires are to keep any red flags from popping up?"
Kane nodded as she pressed the final button to start the analysis process. "You're getting better at this. Fake name, too, of course. But once you have the blood, what's your plan, exactly?"
"Full body system shock," he said. "O2 cranked directly into the bloodstream, Zolpidem and high-potency chili powder by mouth. Hands in hot water and feet in ice water. If that fails, I could resort to electroshock, but I'd rather not."
"That sounds…awfully un-scientific," she swallowed. "But if that's what you think is best, we'll do it. The blood should be here in a day. Two at most."
The machine's whirring stopped. The screen displayed the results. Her blood was hers, and Aart's was…well, Aart's.
"Mills ran them, I ran them…same results that you just got," said Wes. "I'm sorry, but De Klerk is dead."
"You didn't even look at the cultures!" Kane snapped. "Aart didn't forget to take his meds – he's pumped full of olanzapine; his bottle is half-empty. His levels would be spiked if he forgot to take them for a few days and then binged!"
"People that take daily anti-psychotics aren't consistent, Rachel," shot Wes. "How often did he travel overseas? That could have set him off."
"I've talked to him dozens of times. I…Paszek and I both knew him. He wasn't unstable," she stated, more frustrated by the second.
Wes exhaled, choosing not to say anything.
"And look!" Kane exclaimed, pointing at the screen again. "He has ten times the fluoride in his system that I do! How the hell did that even get there?!"
"Plenty of water treatment centers use fluoride."
"Not in Switzerland and not in the U.S," Kane explained. "And even if they did, these levels are…this cannot be incidental!"
"Rachel…" Wes palmed his forehead. "Fluoride prevents tooth decay, osteoporosis…in high doses it can weaken the spinal column over time. It does not brainwash people or make them go manic!"
"I don't care what it does!" she shouted. "I care about how it got into his body! I care about the fact that someone probably figured out that he's working for me…and drugged him, and…" Kane trailed off, needing to catch her breath.
"I don't know how much time we have left," she eked out.
"I get it, okay?" said Wes, clearly trying to remain calm. "You're paranoid. You have every right to be. But you're multitasking as it is."
"I need Paszek and Hall to be safe…" she muttered. "Neither of those goals are dispensable. And if we're on the clock, then-"
"Sarah will be awake within 48 hours," Wes interrupted. "You have my word."
Kane gave Wes a wry smile and dismissed him to further inspect De Klerk's belongings with Jessica. Wes meant well. Kane felt almost certain of that. But still, she could not discard her latent feelings that no one – not Wes, Mills, the cybers, Winslow, or anyone else – quite understood the constant focus that her current life required and the constant flow of wasted, byproduct anguish that came from it.
Having covertly pocketed three beta blockers, she downed them dry.
Alone again.
Again.
It was a relief, given the circumstances, but Paszek would have appreciated a friendly face to talk to. Among other things.
He would have really appreciated for that damn humming noise to turn off. It seemed quieter than before. Maybe he had just gotten more used to it.
Or maybe there was something about him that was different than it was twenty minutes ago.
No.
What had he done, really? Had he overcome something? He couldn't give himself that much credit. Sure, he had gotten Fierro to take off his mask, and bought himself enough time for Corvus to take control, but he wasn't exactly the underdog in the fight.
He had near-infinite power within his own neuroscape, and he spent most of it paralyzed by memories formed decades ago.
There was no closure. No new perspective gained on the things that haunted him. Not that he was expecting it. He never did quite understand the concept of how people "got over" these things, "moved past" trauma – how the breathing exercises and hourly notifications of positive affirmation would get him, get anyone over the line to…whatever.
Whatever, indeed. Paszek could ponder over the merits of therapy after he stopped being a captive of an international terrorist.
How many days had it been? It was almost impossible to tell. His internal clock had been rendered useless by the combination of blacked-out windows and the EMP pulse. He could have guessed maybe seven or eight? Or five? Or fifteen?
The food he'd been given about an hour ago was shockingly substantive. Rice, some nuts, some fruit. Fierro was probably just making sure that he didn't die of kidney failure or a blood clot instead of whatever sick shit he had planned for him.
At the very least, there was a clock ticking now. Figuratively, of course. Fierro was quick to admit that the odds of their location being discovered were rapidly increasing. By association, this meant that Paszek himself was also on a timer. If Fierro were to lose his nerve or try and cut his losses, Paszek was dead meat.
And what was it, exactly, that the authorities would find next to his body?
A signed video confession to the many grisly crimes committed by Savior? Another body, one of a person much more famous than himself? A thumb drive containing the entity known as Corvus? Paszek suspected that Fierro, in his new arrogant persona, would be more than willing to show him just what it was. And perhaps it would be far simpler than he ever would have thought. Or perhaps it would be yet another thing that broke his current understanding of reality. Or something just south of that, maybe.
But Paszek didn't really feel like asking. Because that just might speed up the countdown.
"So, it's my turn?" Jessica spoke, not even turning around to look at Kane entering the room.
"Pardon?" Kane chirped, closing the distance and sitting down across from the cyber-soldier. It came off a little colder than she wanted it to.
Jessica cleared her throat. "It's my turn to get snarked at by you while I try to give you some advice?"
Kane rolled her eyes.
"Mills and Mr. Myers got that treatment. Figured the wheel would land on me next, seeing you weren't planning on chatting with Alessandra anytime soon."
"I guess I wasn't," Kane responded, now very intentionally cold.
Jessica tugged at the fabric of her collar. Kane noticed that her face twitched every so often – usually around the eyes and sometimes through her cheek muscles. It was the kind of thing that would have been caught, would have been exploited if anyone in the forces had seen her face.
But no one had, so Kane supposed that it hardly mattered in the first place.
The name game was getting more complex. Wes and Dara got last names exclusively, it seemed. The one person who specifically requested a codename, though, was on a first-name basis, as far as Jessica was concerned.
Kane wasn't going to let that go unmentioned.
"She seemed pretty adamant about people not using her real name," Kane said nonchalantly. "Do you get a pass?"
Jessica exhaled. "She's recently suffered a series of terrible personal losses. And without any time to even breathe, she's been thrust on the run, and is defaulting to her professional state to avoid confronting any of it."
"Wait, I'm sorry…" she added sarcastically. "Who were we talking about again?"
"Please don't pretend to understand," Kane shot back, actively trying to not raise her voice. "Like you said, I've been through this conversation a couple times already."
"Sure, sure…" Jessica retreated. "Mills is young and idealistic…and your resident neuroscientist is a little lacking in emotional intelligence. They don't understand the sorts of things we do."
"We?" Kane scoffed. "I'm not assuming anything about your life. I don't suppose I can ask for the same courtesy?"
Jessica shook her head. "Not assumptions - inferences. I've read plenty about you."
Kane tried her best not to grimace. She must have seen it all. The recruitment documents, the mission reports…oh God, her own personal communications, too? What wasn't on the table?
"Look, no judgements from me about who you killed, who you didn't kill, and which WA special forces members you did or did not fall for," said Jessica. "But former-asset-to-former-asset, Kane, I've got to advise you…don't bring your work home."
"If you had any idea…" Kane huffed.
"How much you care about Ignacio? How much it hurt to lead operations hunting down John Taylor – because not only did you still feel pity for him, but you also outright agreed that Coalescence should be burnt to the ground for what they did!" Jessica interrupted, not relenting even as Kane's face grew more and more red.
"Fuck you!" Kane howled. "I'm trying to save my friends!"
"Sarah Hall is your friend?" Jessica asked rhetorically. "You're the one who ordered Paszek – your other…friend, I guess I'll say – to interface with her. She's only alive because things didn't go according to your own plan."
That bitch. Kane was hyperventilating. "I just needed to-" she stopped herself, directly her gaze from her own shoes back to Jessica.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, taking slow breaths in and out of her nose to keep herself from getting more flustered.
"I want you to slow the fuck down, okay?" Jessica responded. "Consider your options. Think about what is and isn't worth it. Do it as an officer, or do it as a person. But not both."
"That is awfully fucking rich coming from you, Spectre."
"If I had done everything perfectly, my face wouldn't be this fucked up and I wouldn't be in the position that I'm in right now," shot back Jessica. "I'm telling you this because I did things wrong."
Kane wiped her face. "It doesn't matter what angle I look at it from, okay? Paszek is my priority."
"And I don't think that's a bad decision," Jessica said plainly. "But your first step should probably be determining whether or not he's alive."
Kane huffed.
"Officer Kane considers Captain Paszek an unlosable asset. A VIP, nuclear football in the wind, whatever. Meanwhile, Rachel can't possibly brook the idea that her beloved Ignacio is gone," Jessica spoke, tilting her head downwards to adjust her glare towards Kane. "That…is a fatal combination."
Kane bit her tongue. She had half a mind to lash out with some words of her own, but she also knew that there was likely nothing she could say to really piss Jessica off - not without being transparently insincere, at least.
Clearly Jessica was gearing up for some flavor of "greater good" spiel. And that was all fair and well, but there was no appealing to that side of Kane. Not right now. Not when things were the way they were.
Her personal debts came first. The ones she owed to Paszek and Hall. Once those were clear…sure, paint a target on her face and send her back to Washington. But until then, a death in pursuit of Paszek would be nobler than a death spent doing even the most altruistic, most selfless of things.
In Kane's eyes, those words were truth. Truth as much as any anything could be, right now.
"If I were on the outside looking in, I'd say the same thing," Kane replied, now mostly sober. "But I'm not changing my mind."
Jessica nodded slowly. "Yeah…I figured you'd say something along the lines of that."
"So…" Kane started, now mentally readying herself for just about anything. "…where does that leave us?"
"Well, obviously, I'm going to go do your job for you," Jessica responded, now crossing her legs and leaning back. "Let me get Winslow on the line…"
"You spoke to her without me?" Kane asked. Not that she was surprised.
"We've all got secrets here," Jessica said, half-jokingly and half-defensively. "And, uh, keep in mind that your still-employed friend doesn't know who I really am. She'll just be able to hear Spectre's voice."
Jessica tapped a few buttons near her wrist. And let there be static.
"Talk to me," Jessica spoke, projecting her voice.
Winslow's first syllable was cut off rather abruptly by Kane. "Winslow, care to explain?"
"Ma'am?!" Winslow gasped. "Look, Spectre contacted me first, I just didn't want to-"
"It's fine," Kane relented. "Just be a bit more transparent from now on."
"Yes, yeah…of course…" Winslow stammered. "Now, uh, where was I…oh!" she exclaimed, clacking her keyboard. "Check this out…a little map I made."
Kane quickly took out her tablet and splayed it out on the table, tapping around until she found the image Winslow had sent it, displaying it for both her and Jessica to see.
It was a 2D map of Chicago, with the O'Hare airport placed directly in the center. Lines of all differing colors shot out from the airport, most terminating not far from the middle, but a few extending further.
"These are…people arriving at the airport?" Kane posed.
"Correct," said Winslow. "The green lines are ones that took public transport. The pink lines took a car, and the orange ones took a smaller vehicle. The lines link from the airport to wherever their last known location beforehand is."
"Any anomalies?" said Kane.
"On this map, no, actually. I can track every person or group of people on this list, back to workplaces, apartment buildings, and hotel stays. It's clean."
"However…" Jessica started. "We reverse-engineered the situation and found ourselves a smaller search radius. Two-wheeler parking. Now, Kane, before you can ask why, I'll tell you."
"Chicago police department activity transcript: January 20th, 2071: Airport district," Winslow began. "1:35 PM: distressed man accosts officer posted in two-wheel vehicle parking, badge number 7657, claiming that he is being followed and is in immediate danger; medical services are requested, but suspect flees the area after making a phone call."
"Ring a bell?" Jessica asked rhetorically.
Kane knew that the time stamps matched up. De Klerk had called her at 3:37 local time.
"I took our tracking another step," Winslow jumped in. "With a reasonable degree of accuracy, I can determine how long these people have been in the city."
"Follow this line," said Jessica, highlighting an orange beam on the map. "This person takes a two-wheeler to the airport straight from a rental place in downtown. They arrived at the rental place from a hotel a few blocks away, one night stay. And before that? They were dropped off by a car a that drove straight to and from Winnipeg, with no stops."
Kane was flummoxed. "Hired car?"
"Nope," Winslow answered. "I was able to zero in on the car because of how remote some of that route is. It's not a hired vehicle, rental, or registered to any individual."
"That's improbable, for sure," said Kane. "But we still don't know anything about the person."
Jessica pointed to the map again. "Except that they didn't take a flight, train or their two-wheeler out of the airport."
Kane could hear Winslow jump in her chair as some kind of notification beeped on her end of the call.
"Winslow?" Kane asked, concerned.
"Oh, God…oh, no…what?!" she responded, clearly to herself as much as anyone else. "I…you'll need to hear this, guys."
"Just give us the news, Winslow" said Kane, more urgently now.
"I'm reading this verbatim, ma'am. This comes from the Associated Press – Aart De Klerk, a member of the Zurich Security Forces, was found dead in Chicago, Illinois on Monday evening. His reason for being in the United States is unknown at this time. This is a developing story."
"I'll call you when I need you," Jessica remarked coldly, disconnecting before Winslow could protest. "Well…this complicates things."
"I knew that couldn't be Aart!" Kane exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.
"Don't be so sure," Jessica shot back. "We know one of these bodies isn't him. Who's to say it's not the one in Chicago?"
Kane chuckled in disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense. How would that even work? De Klerk faking his own death would only attract more attention to himself."
It had all clicked for Kane. Aart wasn't using her official title on the phone – he was trying to explain his impossible situation to a street cop. One way or another, he was dead – either dumped in the trash by a doppelgänger or drugged and manipulated into betrayal by some third party. What was worse? Was she prepared to properly deal with either of those scenarios?
"Do you need me to stay here?" Jessica asked, evidently noticing that Kane had spaced out.
"I'm sorry?" Kane responded, taken a bit aback by her sudden shift in tone.
"Dara and I were going to head to Winnipeg to follow the trail, but…well, this puts a hamper in everything. I'm asking…do you need us to stay?"
How uncharacteristically considerate of her.
"No," Kane said confidently. "The longer we all sit here, the longer Paszek is suffering. If I don't send a message every 6 hours, that means the morgue is compromised and we're all dead."
Jessica nodded. "Alessandra will stay behind in case you need a Cyber-Soldier backing you up before we return."
Kane knew damn well that wasn't why she was staying, but whatever.
"And…" Kane started. "The second you know for certain…you tell me." She wasn't asking. She was demanding it.
"Of course, Kane. Of course."
The room had changed while Paszek slept.
Most obvious was the clear plexiglass enclosure that stood square in front of him – a few feet wide and about 9 feet tall, barely missing the ceiling.
There was a man inside of it.
Not conscious, and not anyone that Paszek could recognize immediately. Maybe the face sat somewhere deep in his brain, but with his DNI still out of commission, he wouldn't know for sure. At least he had the comfort of knowing that Hall and Corvus could survive the deactivation.
Surely the details of who this person was and why they were here would be revealed soon. Paszek scanned the now slightly-more-illuminated room for any information he could gain.
The EMP dampeners sat in against either wall, maybe a foot or so beyond the edge of the glass box. Thick wires stuck out from the sides of them both, but the light didn't extend far enough for Paszek to see where they were connected to.
But that was the threshold. That was what stood between captivity and freedom.
It was useful knowledge to have. Given that his forward progress was probably only a few inches, if that, in the last week or so, it was clear that another plan would need to develop. Not to mention that his atypical sleep pattern – or rather, the fact that he slept at all – condemned him to the possibility of waking up in a completely different position than he was in before.
He wasn't going to inch his way forward. He would need to leap.
Once again, Paszek went back to Fierro's concession that wherever they were was not secure, or at least not foolproof. At this point, he could reason that there were probably two different parties looking for him – Kane and the CIA proper. Which of those entities got here first was certainly important, but he'd take either one. Either way, he'd be fighting. It was just a matter of how many people.
Still, he was holding onto his confidence in Kane's abilities, especially given that she probably had a leg up from the extra information. He hoped as well that Hall's body and mind, in whatever combination they existed, would provide some answers for her.
Kane…
He hadn't seen her in quite a while now. Not just in the flesh. There was a small part of him that believed that maybe, just maybe, inside of his own head, he'd be able to see her, at least see her face, hear her voice…something! But Paszek shouldn't have thought himself so lucky.
No. No, he would not continue to have these conversations with himself about what he deserved and what he didn't. At least, not while his real concerns were far more…tangible.
Fierro stepped back into the light. It seemed dimmer all of a sudden.
"You were a…philosopher, yes?" Fierro asked. "In your schooling?"
Paszek's sullen expression stayed still. "And you were a decent man, yeah?" he paused. "Before you turned into…this?"
Fierro frowned. "I suppose I can skip the long introduction, then. Do you know what this is?" he asked, producing a small, silver, pressurized canister from his pocket.
Paszek didn't answer. Was he supposed to recognize it?
"I thought not. Your old friends at Coalescence were awfully obsessed with this stuff. Krueger, the old fool…it seems to me that he misinterpreted just about everything he read in those documents about the Soviet's fascination with sleeper agents in the '60s…"
Paszek got the message. "Nova Six is hardly the most potent neurotoxin out there. Looks like you might be the one obsessed." He was all in on his strategy – no questions, just prompts for further information. Intentional misunderstandings.
"Right you are, Captain," Fierro said, smirking. "This, however…" he trailed, holding the canister higher and examining it half-heartedly. "…this is not the Nova Six that you're familiar with, I'm afraid."
Paszek narrowed his eyes as Fierro took a step towards the glass box, giving it a harsh pound with his fist. The occupant awoke almost immediately, slipping as he tried to scamper to his feet.
"My Lord!" the man cried. "You must understand, I had to-"
"Quiet!" Fierro shouted, angrier than any words he'd uttered since Paszek's capture. "This is no trial; your fate is sealed."
This seemed to shut the man up. Paszek could only assume that Fierro held a greater kind of power over him. "Lord" being a pretty fucking strong title to adorn on anyone, let alone the person who presumably was about to execute you.
"Perhaps you've seen things like this before, Captain, but…" Fierro stopped, exhaling sharply. "I trust this will illuminate my point further."
He directed his attention back to his other detainee. "You did serve me well, once. And you will do so, again. Take solace in this."
The man, still squirming in fear, nodded slowly.
Fierro ripped open the top of the canister, revealing a press-to-ignite fuse. The top of the glass box opened. The fuse was lit.
The canister was dropped in, and the sight that sat before Paszek shook him in ways he wished were not possible.
"Ready?" Wes asked.
No, she was not ready.
She was terrified. Eager to move ahead. Eager to leave behind. Yet, at the same time, petrified. Trapped in the fears of what was to come, rationalized entirely from intrusive thoughts of the past.
Well, not entirely. Some of the things she feared came from the uncertain, the future, the powers that be or may not be. The unknown! The unknown force or logical gap or wormhole from which some genetic freak clone of Aart De Klerk crawled out from.
It was like thinking in a new language. A new, terrifying, terrifying language from a new world where virtually anything was possible, and all of those things could kill her. They wanted to kill her. They existed to kill her. This new world existed, came into existence, to destroy her and everything she cared for.
And patient one of this brave new world stared Kane in the face. Patient zero was, well…not important, anymore.
Her thumb was pressed tightly against the closed end of the IV, preventing the oxygen-rich blood from flowing into Hall's arm.
All she had to do was let go, and dive deeper into this brave new world.
The man, in spite of whatever loyalty or respect he held for Fierro, immediately pressed himself up against the far side of the glass, desperate to distance himself from the greenish yellow gas that had now started to dissipate from the fractured container.
It would be without practical results, though, as the gas first reach his legs, the man wincing loudly as it burned him. Within seconds the fumes had left empty patches in his clothes, now making its way up to his face, where it scarred him. Gasping for nothing as it entered his lungs, the man collapsed to the floor, dry-heaving and clawing at the glass.
Like Rachel had. Right in front of Paszek's eyes. Kaleidoscope dream eyes, maybe. But it looked, sounded, smelled, and felt as real as every day of his life.
He could hear her screams of agony now. What generated such a noise? What simulated AI algorithm warbled the voice clips to create such real, gut-wrenching, soul-sucking screams?
Paszek lost sense of his surroundings entirely. The man was gone. It was Rachel. Rachel was in the box again, crying for help, any content in her sacrifice lost in an instant as the pain overtook her every sense. Her eyes were blood red, unable to produce the smallest tear for her own life and for Paszek's grief. She was dead again, lost again in the abyss that would take Paszek soon, as well.
"Listen only to the sound of my voice…"
Corvus was trying to reach him. Trying to calm him, maybe. But it wasn't having the intended effect. The memories were too blended, too tied to one another to separate with the mantra. It only heightened the hallucination.
Paszek tried to bring his own arms to bang on the glass, but still found them restrained. His voice, too, was restrained, incapable of the slightest resonance.
Corvus' voice echoed once more, this time too muffled to properly parse. It wasn't the mantra – Paszek could tell that much. Corvus was…rambling? Spilling his guts?
Corvus was…praying?
And an instant later, Paszek would know why.
"Ready?" Wes asked.
"Ready," Kane lied.
If there was any trace of Fierro, the now-probably-dead captive, and the room left in Paszek's perception, it was certainly gone now.
Rachel's voice still bellowed in the background, but it grew softer, more distant, as Paszek's vision slowly transitioned from some half-correct version of the Coalescence HQ to the Frozen Forest, where a sullen Corvus sat on a tree stump.
Above the sounds of the wind, Paszek heard the very mechanical shutting of a door, or a gate, or shelter of some kind. It was bizarre. Out of place, even given what he'd experienced in the past few minutes.
"Paszek…" Corvus started, not averting his gaze from the snow beneath him. "Do…do you feel it?"
"Did you bring me here, Corvus?" he asked, ignoring the question for now. "You brought me here to take me out of that memory, right?"
Corvus looked at Paszek, and despite not possessing much in the way of facial expression, Paszek could sense that he was fighting to get any words out.
"She…" he said, voice crackling. "She…no! No, oh, oh…"
Unable to continue, Corvus brought his hands up to his face and wept, with the unbridled emotion of a hundred thousand men.
"Out!" Wes ordered, hands pressed tightly against Hall's shoulders, which, much like the rest of her body, were spasming as she violently seized up and out. "Get the IVs out!"
Kane reached over the table awkwardly, keeping a substantial part of her body weight on Hall to stabilize her as she followed Wes' instructions; the line into Hall's left arm (the Zolpidem) came out first, with Wes mimicking Kane's half-supine position to bandage the puncture wound with one hand. They repeated the process for Hall's right arm, into which the high-altitude blood flowed.
"Still seizing!" Wes hollered. "Agh…get the oxygen mask back on!"
Kane obliged, but a few moments later there was still no positive response from Hall.
The heart monitor was beeping faster and faster.
Wes froze, shaking his head and muttering soft enough to be incomprehensible.
"Wes!" Kane shouted. It barely registered with him. "Wes! Electro?"
He shook his head faster, gritting his teeth, still without a response.
"Fuck!" she exclaimed, to herself more than Wes. Her head swerved to the shock wands that laid on the rubber mat.
No. She couldn't. She couldn't risk hurting Hall further.
Kane dipped a finger in the hot water that Hall's hands now rested in. Well, it wasn't hot anymore. Tepid, at best.
She tested the water at her feet. Still ice cold.
She knew what to do.
Racing to the counter, Kane quickly filled an errant beaker with boiling-hot water, standing at the ready in an archaic kettle. Removing Hall's feet from the cold-water buckets, she brought the woman's feet together by collecting them in one hand, using her free appendage to haphazardly pour the hot water onto her feet.
Grunting as some of the hot water splashed onto her own bare skin, Kane then lifted the surprisingly heavy bucket of cold water and dumped the entire thing over Hall's torso, soaking through her clothes and spilling over onto the table and floor.
Kane's own breathing came to a halt as she noticed Wes' expression shift to a bug-eyed stare of awe.
Because the body…no, because Sarah Hall coughed violently, clawed at her oxygen mask, and sat up, gasping for air.
"Corvus, this is a good thing, you understand that, right?"
Paszek's gentle phrasing seemed to pass right through the pixelated figure. His wailing had ceased a minute ago, so there was progress, at least.
"The loss of Sarah…of her presence, it's…profoundly saddening to me, Paszek. In all likelihood she is safe now, but…I don't think I can properly articulate what this feels like."
Paszek didn't need more words to relate.
"It is as if one of the walls in my home was removed, and I have to continue living in a house with just three walls. Though I suppose I've never lived in a house, have I?"
"You will soon, Corvus," Paszek replied, moving over to sit on the temperature-neutral snow next to him.
"Am I to take it that you've made up your mind? That you will help me find a more, er…tangible form to exist in?"
Paszek nodded subtly. "Both Sarah and I are still alive today because of you. I…" he trailed off, considering his next words seriously. "I owe you the same chance."
Truthfully, he believed that he owed the AI far, far more than that. Far more than he was really capable of ever giving.
"I felt like I was…asleep for quite some time when Fierro started the interface. So foreign to me," said Corvus, lightly chuckling as he finished the thought. "But…Paszek, I saw things. Moments from your life. I did not…I didn't mean to, they…they played in front of my eyes."
Paszek averted his own eyes away from the figure.
"I am sorry for what you went through. And I am especially sorry that for the unneeded trauma I've brought to you in the past. The road ahead for both of us is long…perhaps very arduous as well, but…but we must walk it. There is no other choice."
For probably the first time, Paszek chose to be patient enough to fully absorb the sincerity and profundity of Corvus' words. There was a lack of ulterior motive, a lack of any selfish interest in the figure's speech, words that might have sounded pretentious coming out of someone else's mouth sounded entirely unfeigned.
The forest was degrading. Rachel's voice was now gone entirely. His time here was running short.
Paszek had hoped that he could stay a little longer, rest a little longer, but his body was regaining consciousness and would soon pull him back into reality.
And as Corvus nodded at him, seemingly aware of the situation as well, reality returned.
Paszek flinched as he awoke, the shock from his neck falling down and off to the side jolting him back up.
Fierro had left. Clearly enough time had passed that he either got bored or found himself occupied elsewhere. That was fine by Paszek, as he'd had more than his fair share of Fierro's grandstanding for one day.
Holy fucking shit.
The man…the man in the box…
He was…standing? Alive?
His clothes were torn, skin underneath flayed. Paszek could faintly hear a sort of low humming coming from him…grunting?
The man yowled as he lunged towards the close side of the glass, his entire form now fully illuminated for Paszek to see.
It was revolting…more so than that, confusing.
Because this man was not dead. But he didn't look alive, either.
Now sitting up straight, Hall took in a deep breath.
"I have…several questions."