The Committee for National Security

Chapter 3 - Twisted Nerve

6 Months after expulsion / June 5th, 1980

After Midnight, June 5, 1980

"Hello? Goodbye."

O-06-20, "Nothing There"

Chesed [The Library - Patron Librarian of Social Sciences] — ?, ? ? — Dated ? ?, ?

Chesed awoke with a bitter expression on his face as he recovered from the gunshot and bullet wound that instantly staggered him. While trying to enter the house for Mathers, he was ambushed and staggered by what seemed to be a hidden assailant. As he nursed where he was shot and staggered, something told him that he wasn't exactly in the best of conditions right now.

He looked at himself one more time to make sure- Oh come on, Chesed mused. There were metal fragments inside his body- Yeesh. Where was he, even? Chesed's eyes darted around the room in an attempt to figure out just exactly where the hell was- It was only when he tried to move his hands did he realize he wasn't-

Yeah. He was tied. But they probably thought he was dead? Why the need for tying him up in the first place- Chesed frowned as he wiggled his arms around. His legs were untied, so that meant that he could roll himself over-

He smirked as he felt a metal pipe behind him. Something told him that the rope tying his hands was made with nothing more than a regular mundane rope. Nothing flashy or special like The City's imprisonment devices.

"Come on now~" He frowned and smirked, pressing the rope against the pipe. "At least get something more reliable~"

He started furiously rubbing the rope against the metal pipe, with the intent of burning the rope out- He felt radiant heat from the rope as he kept rubbing it again and again, hoping that the friction would burn through it-

"Oh?" He muttered as he finally felt the rope getting looser. "This is why you buy from the Head~"

He breathed a sigh of relief as the rope finally snapped from being rubbed harshly against a metal pipe and causing it to burn and snap through sheer fiction. Chesed, regaining his ability to use hands, rolled over and pushed himself up,

"That was an interesting turn of events~" He muttered as he walked over to a nearby table. Oh? Curious, he glanced over one part of the table that had a lamplight on it. A part of him was wondering just why something like that would-

His eyes widened as he saw a handgun alongside two other magazines. Color him surprised. He thought that guns would be extremely rare outside of organized syndicates, like the fingers- Could they perhaps be subsidiaries?

No, Chesed mused. They might have been something else rather than subsidiaries of something like the gun-wielding syndicates.

"Not that it matters," Chesed closed his eyes and smiled as he picked up the handgun, pulling on the slide. Roland had taught him how to handle a handgun after he occasionally used the Full-Stop Office identities when fighting. This was familiar to him. He inserted the magazine into the gun, and then pulled back the slide. "A gun is a gun anyhow~"

So, if Chesed got this right. What happened was that he was shot and staggered, falling to the floor in a half-dead state, then the assailants opted to transport his body somewhere that was convenient. Presumably deeper inside the compound. A part of his brain thought- Yeah. They were probably going to hide his body somewhere. Of course, that didn't account for him not actually being dead at all. He smirked as he looked at the pistol he stole.

"Hang on," He muttered as he took off the magazine. "How many bullets is in this thing?" He stopped to push all the individual bullets out of the magazine, disarming the gun first. Then, the counting began.. One… Two… Three… Six… Nine… Twelve. Twelve bullets. He put the bullets back into the gun and racked the slide again.

Twelve bullets. He put his second hand on the grip of the handgun. Better make it count.

As he focused attention on the table he found the gun on, he noticed that it had a map bolted to the nearby wall. Eye trailing up, he noticed that there were pictures nailed to the wall, with strings connecting them. On top of that, the pictures had writing on them that he was not familiar with. He knew it was from one of the districts, but was wracking his head on what district.

"Was it… Was it the one with the tax collector who got murdered…?" He tried looking through his mind, thinking of a story Roland told him once. About how the murder of one tax collector brought terrifying wrath upon that area's inhabitants. He always winced hearing that story especially, so seeing the language from that area right here was... Surprising. Then again, he wasn't so surprised to find himself easily communicating with the security forces. "I… I think this is the language of that district, yes," He finished, taking one of the photos off the string board and looking at it.

The photo was of the place he went to a while ago, with two red circles on the vehicles of the security personnel and arrows pointing at them. There was a word he couldn't understand, so he put it down. He frowned. So that was how they managed to…

His fist balled as he made a frown. Realizing that this was more than a simple syndicate... something, and that he had been caught in something that he probably should not have found himself in. A deeply annoyed sigh escaped him. "Oh come on…" He had to get himself involved in this… That was life. He sighed, closing his eyes and putting his other hand back on the pistol's grip. "Oh well," He sighed. "Life is like a brew~ There's always imperfections in it~" He said, grinning and closing his eyes.

He turned around and walked across a doorway. His hand almost opened the door without a second thought, but Chesed stopped himself. He had to think this very carefully. He furrowed his brows as he pressed himself against the door, one hand on the pistol but the other on the door. He twisted the doorknob and slowly pushed it, aiming a gun as he did so-

His first target was an armed man standing guard in front of a box with his back turned to Chesed, sitting unaware of his current predicament. Chesed quickly stopped slowly opening the door and put his second hand on the pistol, closing one eye and holding his breath.

A single trigger squeeze, and a gunshot rang throughout the house, the armed man dropping dead with a bullet in his head. Seeing the situation clear, Chesed opened the door all the way through. He had to get movi-

Gunfire met him as soon as he tried stepping out of the doorway, forcing him to take cover behind a wall nearby. Nondescript shouting before a second burst of gunfire was all that he could hear, as the bullets narrowly missed him and- Hit everything else.

Chesed frowned and returned fire with the pistol, not bothering to aim as he simply placed his pistol next to the open with the wall as cover and repeatedly pulled the trigger thrice, not bothering to aim. He pulled back the gun and awaited return fire.

But it never came.

No shouting. No return gunfire. No nothing.

He waited another minute, simply thinking that whoever did that was recuperating from their effort to shoot Chesed. But, yet again, nothing came. Which was... incredibly suspicious, so he took a deep breath. Would he follow his intrigue or not?

Intrigued, Chesed poked his head out. Did he-?

"Oh," Chesed muttered as he discovered his assailant dead, having slumped to the wall, blood splattered behind him on the head area. "Lucky shot~" He mused to himself as he walked over to the corpse, hoping to get something usable.

"Sorry~ You won't be needing this anymore~" He cheerfully added as he snatched the gun of the man who shot back at him. Looking at it, it was an odd design. Chesed mused as he looked at it. All-steel, with a curved stick that… He supposed was the magazine. And- He was surprised to find out that the stock was able to fold in on itself.

"I think I'm starting to get used to these weird designs here." Chesed mused, pulling the charging handle of the gun. "Thank you, Roland." He muttered as he moved on to the next doorway. He had a lot to owe the man, in hindsight. But he also owed a lot to Chesed, so it was even, he mused.

The moment he saw a window, he peeked outside it- Only to find himself cursing internally when he was able to get a good look at the front where he came from, only to find it abandoned. The men he was with must have retreated to call reinforcements. Disappointing, but a sensible decision.

He didn't see his groceries or thermos left abandoned, so that made his day better. Glad to see that they didn't leave behind the things he wanted to buy. Even if that was something he didn't- Okay, he might have prioritized that, he sighed as he turned away from the window. But at least they were able to retrieve it!

Turning right, he saw another set of stairs. Carefully, he tiptoed his way up as the gun was faced upwards to the stai-

Shouting met him and he found himself turning left, firing the gun at the direction of the stairs-

In return, something was tossed at his direction- And panicking, he immediately dove out of the stairs, yelping as he impacted the wood surface. "Ouch-" He shouted, before two bullets hit him in the legs, causing him to cut off and wince in intense pain. "Fuck!" Chesed shouted, trying to crawl away-

Whoever it was that attempted to kill him then spoke up. "You again?!" He shouted, almost surprised at the fact of his livelihood. "I thought- You died! You're supposed to be dead!" He shouted, accent very indeed similar to the district with the all-too-frequent dead tax collectors. Frowning, Chesed turned himself around, finally facing the surprised man on the stairway as he held a gun to Chesed.

"I'm still alive~" He said before grabbing the gun he dropped and firing it at the man, who could do nothing but jerk with each bullet that hit him-

A shot from his gun seemed to unfortunately get too lucky, however, and it hit Chesed straight in the chest.

"My heart-!" Chesed groaned as he felt himself near the brink of death, clutching his chest as he dropped his gun. No visible bleeding, but the damage to his physical Light form was- Chesed sighed. He would have to return to the Library if his physical form fully deteriorated. He couldn't feel any organ damage, but the pain from being shot...

Chesed forced himself up, body feeling entirely like garbage as he did so. He chuckled as he looked at the corpse. "Oh, how I wish I could..." He was trailing off as he furrowed his brows. Wait a second, he thought. Couldn't he... Borrow E.G.O. pages from the Library?

His main concern were two things; 1. Could he even do it; and 2. Why would he use it in public. Of course, Chesed mused, option 2 was out of the window since he was in a quite quaint location. That being, he coughed, the backstreets of this city. Somehow more livable than the actual backstreets, funny enough.

Thinking for a moment, he smirked as he realized something. These assailants seemed to be very... Secretive types. And he ruled out simple syndicate members, as they would not dare to cross security forces—not typically anyways—and as such...

"Ah, but to be someone in search of wisdom~" He chuckled as he used his remaining Light to take an E.G.O. page, relishing in the potential it could do to advance his pursuit of knowledge. He grinned as the page began to take effect, giving him a third layer of vision as he closed his eyes.

An all-encompassing orange view was what met his closed eyes. And, most importantly, the things he desired.

Glowing. Pulsating. Alluring. Chesed licked his lips as he saw twelve of these alluring and oh-so-tasty vessels of knowledge and gave a dark grin.

"I must seek what they know~ I hope they do not mind my form~"

Lieutenant Andrew Mathers [Washington Army National Guard - 161st Infantry Regiment] — The Projects Crack-house, Outskirts of Seattle — June 5, 1980

Mathers raised his fist in the 'Halt' signal as he moved around the bushes. Turning to Smith, he waved his hand toward a wooden fence. "Smith," Mathers began. "Take position by the fence over there," He ordered. "The rest of you, follow me."

It had been ten minutes since the grenade that nearly killed him had detonated. He was lucky enough to dive into cover by jumping off the door balcony and into the grass. He wasn't so sure about the civie who he got killed though... Mathers bit his tongue as he kept Daniel's thermos and grocery bag strapped to him via the LCE. Mostly as a memo in the case of the thermos, and snacks in the case of his grocery bag.

No poor kid deserved to die like that.

Now, the thing is. Three minutes ago, Mathers heard multiple bursts of gunfire from the crack-house that he had left. This was... Odd. Which is why he gathered his team back once more to breach the house and find out what was causing staccato after staccato of gunshots. Turning to Smith, he asked a question. "FMJ loaded?"

Smith nodded as he closed the top of his M60, taking one more moment to look at the belt before turning back to Mathers and nodding. "Yeah."

"Good," Mathers responded as he pointed at the house, before making the hand signal for suppressive fire. "I want you to suppress the house before we move in. Stop when you see smoke in the doorway," He turned to the rest of his team as Smith nodded in response. "Wellstone. I'll need you to launch a smoke grenade into the hallway. The rest of you, divide yourselves into teams of two and spread across each floor." He ordered the rest of the platoon, who acknowledged.

"Copy that, sir."

"Hoo-ah. Roger."

"Wil-co."

"Order received."

Smith racked the charging handle of the M60 machine gun as Mathers moved into position, leaving the doorway open for Wellstone to deal with as he loaded a smoke grenade. The moment Wellstone finished loading the smoke round and aiming through the grenade sights, Smith had pulled the trigger and fired his machine gun wildly into the house.

"Wellstone! Boro, Boro, Boro!" He shouted as Wellstone fired the grenade launcher's smoke round into the doorway. As soon as the plume started taking shape and Smith stopped firing his machine gun, Mathers stood up and charged into the doorway, the others in the platoon finding their own ways of entry—two teams in particular ended up smashing the two windows up front to provide a clear entry point. The rest simply followed Mathers' charge into the doorway.

"Hallway, clear!" Mathers shouted as he swept his gun around, finger on the trigger while he- Wait a minute. He crouched down. Wasn't this the stairway where Daniel was killed? Fuck, Mathers silently swore as he bit his lip, cringing with his eyes closed. They must have moved Daniel's body somewhere else.

"Team 1 reports kitchen clear!" The team that had taken the left window up front reported. Glancing in their direction, Mathers got visual confirmation as the two riflemen lowered their guns and moved in position to take the room in front of the kitchen, going into a breaching position as one took the doorknob and the other provided covering fire.

"Team 2 reports living room clear." A cool voice from the team that took the rightward window responded. Mathers got visual confirmation once again as he turned to see two riflemen doing the same as the team that had breached from the leftward window. And by that, he meant moving into the next room. Though this one had no door, so they just moved in and covered each other.

"Team 3 reporting. Bathroom's clear."

"Team 4 reporting- Yeesh. Storage room's clear... Kind of. Found a dead cop, though. Body looks a week old."

"Team 5... Uh. We're live. Area is empty, but... Shit," Team 5's leader gagged. "This place gives me the creeps."

"First floor clear, I presume?" Mathers asked on the radio as he got various confirmation responses from the rest of the teams. Nodding, Mathers made a hand-signal of regrouping. "Teams, fall behind me," He said, pointing his gun upward as he walked the same stairway where Daniel was killed. "Breaching second floor."

"Second floor, copy." Was what he got as a response as he turned left and started moving up the stairs, gun trained on anything that could possibly ambush him. His rifle had not been fired after he almost died to a grenade, so he accounted for... At least twenty-four bullets left on his gun, he mused.

The moment he got out of the stairwell and shifted left, his teams began to move and splinter off from the main line going atop the stairs. Wellstone, meanwhile, regrouped back with Mathers. "I don't like this," Wellstone confessed as he shifted uncomfortably next to Mathers. His glasses were visibly shaking with his body, and his gun seemed to be almost- Jittery was the right word, yes. "Just three minutes ago... We heard gunfire. Now..."

"Wellstone," One of the team leaders opened up as a door broke down in the background of his speech. "Y'think they got pussyfooted and got scared off?"

"Iunno about that, Corporal," Wellstone responded, sighing. "I mean- No way you could move an entire team out of a crack-house in three minutes. Of course, this is- Assuming it's a whole house for a single, uh, gang or something."

"And if it's just some dude?" One of the soldiers asked. "I mean, what if we're just looking at one really well-prepared crackhead?"

"See, that'd make sense," Wellstone noted. "But we heard multiple gunshots. Couldn't been have one guy, because all the shots were spread out and- Like, different. There were singular shots, and then there were- Bursts, yeah. Bursts of gunfire. More than one guy."

"I never knew you had a keen ear for that," Another soldier in the platoon mused. "Y'think he's got a goon squad with him?"

"Oh definitely," Wellstone nodded. "But my main concern is... Where the hell are those goons-"

"Oh my god! El-tee!" One of the team leaders shouted, a second terrified scream echoing in the background of his radio, presumably his partner also reacting. Mathers' eyes widened and contorted into a surprised expression. What the hell did they see

"Jesus fuck- El-tee. Go meet up with them in the bathroom, just, uh, go left of the stairway- then straight, and take a left turn-" One of the other soldiers responded as Mathers nodded, taking a brisk walk left of the stairway, then heading straight before taking another left turn -

What greeted him was the horrible putrid stench of rotting and dead bodies mixed in with soiled garments, and the buzzing of flies in the bathroom. Mathers winced heavily, cringing as the stench didn't seem to go away- Fuck! He opened his eyes to see what it was-

His eyes almost budged out of their sockets as he finally opened his eyes to what was in front of him. Bodies lay stacked on top of each other- Most of them sporting terrified expressions. His jaw started to open more as he looked at each of the bodies. Each of them had the following: Wide, almost-budging eyes. A terrified open mouth- Almost permanently locked in terrorized screaming. And most of all...

The top of their heads had a large, gaping hole at the direct top of the scalp, spilled blood on the outside telling something that- Mathers stopped as he realized what the combination of the expressions and the gaping hole meant. Oh dear God. Their brains were being- Jesus fuck. No. No. Nononononono- Their brains were being drilled into while they were alive. Mathers immediately closed his eyes and put one hand over his mouth in disgust.

What- What the fuck would do such- What sadist- Fuck, fuck, fuck! Mathers looked at the other two soldiers who led him to this discovery- They had shared the same expression as him. Wide-eyed, disgusted, and terrified. One of them set their gun aside to gag and cough without risking an accidental trigger pull via reflex.

"El-tee..." Squealed one of them weakly as he poked his rifle barrel at one of the corpses- Whose head weakly turned to its left, still permanently locked in the terrified expression. It would forever haunt them, Mathers thought. "What... What the fuck is this?"

"This-" He almost gagged, opting to place his gun somewhere safe so that it didn't go off in his face. "No. There's useful-" He grunted as the stench hit him again. "-Useful information to be found on the bodies- Christ," He turned away and took a very deep breath, pausing his order to steel himself. "Search the bodies for anything useful."

"Copy." The two soldiers responded as they took one of the bodies out of the bathroom and into the main hallway- Where they were greeted by the terrified and curious stares of the rest of the national guardsmen, who were at the moment weapons cold. Their wide eyes, intrigued expression, and slack-jawed looks all synchronized into an orchestra of speaking.

"Jesus- Their head's drilled! That's a fucking hole in their head!"

"It doesn't get better- Look at that guy's expression. It's like he just stared Satan in his last moments."

"Fuck. You think that they felt- Y'know, their death... Slowly? Like that?"

"...May God give their souls rest. I... I cannot bear seeing this. I'm sorry."

"Holy fuck. What barbarian- No. Don't answer my question."

"...Think this is a Commie thing...?"

All of these statements eventually degenerated into chaotic and grating background chatter that Mathers tuned out as he crouched to allow the team time to rummage through the bodies for anything useful. Positioning the bodies along the stair rail, he watched as the two of them put their hands through the bodies' pockets-

"Wait," One of the scavenging soldiers said. "I've got something," He said, pulling his hand out of the breastpocket of the shirt on one of the bodies. Yanking it, he saw that it was a wallet of some sort- Quickly, he opened it.

"Is that-" One of them muttered. "Is that a goddamn ID card?" He glanced at the other soldier, then back at Mathers. The one holding the wallet stood up and handed it to Mathers. "What's it say, El-tee?" He asked as Mathers pulled out the ID Card.

Mathers' eyes widened in surprise once more. Checking to confirm, he flipped the ID card back, hoping for it to disprove his theory. Only, it ended up reinforcing his initial theory. He bit his lip and sighed as he analyzed the card.

In the front was the symbol of the Soviet Union. Hammer and Sickle, emblazoned in the background of it all. In front was a photo of the guy it was looted from- Looking all serious and ready, in contrast to the terrified corpse in reality. Mathers gripped the ID Card tightly. If a hard agent like this man was could end up dying terrified... Then what the hell did he face?

It was official, Mathers mused as he put the ID card back into the wallet. They stumbled in... Hell, a KGB outpost in bum-fuck all, Seattle. See, the problem with cases like this is that they would have been handled by something like the Central Intelligence Agency, with maybe some arrests by the National Guard. This might've been on the news, too.

But, Mathers grit his teeth. That was not the case. Whatever this KGB outpost had stumbled upon in their escapades was far, far worse than anything that Mathers could have thought of. No CIA operation was in existence to drill into peoples' heads and- Yeah. He would've heard it being declassified at least a decade ago. Or half. That was with the CIA Reform Act of 1967, signed by Senators Michael Dugan and George Bush, both of Texas. And as far as he could tell, its last amendment was in 1976, when Bush began his third term as CIA Director.

The problem with the CIA was that whatever shady shit they'd pull, it was always limited by legislation. Under President James W. Fulbright, the CIA was disarmed. Its 'torture department' was shut down. And under President Nelson Rockefeller, it was disarmed further. It required declassification of all pre-Rockefeller 'extrajudicial' operations in cooperation with one Senator Frank Church.

So whatever this was, it could not have been CIA. CIA were, at the very least, if Mathers recalled correctly, only limited to finagling with infiltrating groups like the Black Panthers, the Ku Klux Klan, or some shit like the Scientologists back in Cali. He turned to look at the other soldiers in his platoon, shaking his head.

"I am afraid to say, platoon," He addressed. "We may or may not have stumbled across something that... Bluntly put, we should not have seen with our own two eyes," He sighed. "It's two layers. First, this is a KGB outpost-"

"Yeah. Soviet guns, Soviet ammo, hell- Soviet writing. This crack-house was being used as a goddamn commie listening post over here," One of the soldiers mused as he pocketed what he thought was a Soviet pistol. Makarov, it was called. "Normally shit like this would be either Langley's affair, or maybe ours..."

"Now that's where the second layer of 'we fucked up' comes in, soldier," Mathers shifted, looking at his platoon. "Whatever's in here with is- I'm for sure that whatever did this to the commies is not human. What we're dealing with might be- Fuck, Iunno," He flailed his arms up. "Far as we can tell though, what's in here? With us? Might as well be a fucking alien."

"So, El-Tee," Wellstone opened up. "What the hell do we do about an enemy that can literally suck up our brains while we can still comprehend the word existence?"

"Excellent question, Wellstone," Mathers shouted. "We find it, and we pray to whatever God that didn't create this monstrosity that we can take it down before it catches any of us too."

"I like the sound of that."

"M-hm," Mathers nodded as he turned his back on the rest of the platoon. "I'll see if I can call reinfor-"

A loud, terrified scream cut him off almost immediately. Panicking and eyes wide open, Mathers swiveled his head around, looking for anyone that might be missing- Someone must've deviated- No. That wasn't right. Nobody had deviated from the platoon except for Smith... But Smith was outside, so what-

"All accounted for?!" Mathers shouted as he grabbed his rifle.

"Team 1 reporting all hands."

"Team 2 reporting, uh, we're all here."

"Team 3... We're live. Both of us."

"Team 4... Shit. I'm still alive. Same with my partner."

"Damnit- Team 5 here. We're still up! Both of us!"

"Wellstone 'ere-" Wellstone replied. "Still kicking!"

Panicking, I turned on my radio to contact Smith, the autorifleman of the platoon. If he was still outside- Mathers shunted out all other thoughts as he fumbled with the radio before getting the volume right, yelling almost immediately as soon as he pressed the talk button on the radio. "Smith! Are you alright?!"

"Hmm? 'Sup, El-tee?"

"You're okay. Good. Stay put, alright?"

"W-Okay, but why-"

"Just stay put, Smith," Mathers grunted harshly into the radio as the screaming started once again. "We have some affairs to deal with. If someone from the team doesn't radio back in ten minutes or so, consider us dead and call for reinforcements."

"Uh… Roger that, El-tee. Good luck."

"Thank you," Mathers responded. "Out. The rest of you, move it!" He shouted, getting responses from the platoon as three teams merged back into the platoon proper while two teams remained the vanguard of the platoon entering the house.

"Team 1 reports storage room clear!"

"Team 2 reports dressing room, clear!"

"Roger that, keep moving," Mathers said as the platoon shifted their speed, carefully navigating around the house's second floor. They were not about to provoke the wrath of the inhuman monster that completely sucked out the brains of the KGB spies. Almost immediately, the teams stopped moving.

"Team 1. This is the final left-side room. Nothing here, sir."

"Team 2. Final right-side room. Jackshit's been found."

"Copy that. We still have the main corridor to deal with," Mathers responded. "Teams. Regroup on me," He smirked as he got affirmative responses from the four men in each two teams. "Let's get this over with."

A third loud and terrified scream also drew their attention one last time. And it was from the very end of the corridor that the platoon had been scurrying through. Mathers looked at the rest of his platoon, giving a silent question to all of them that could be roughly translated as 'Do we go in?'

To his surprise, everyone nodded, combined with the sound of multiple charging handles being pulled almost simultaneously. Mathers turned back, a furrowed frown and a steeled expression on his face. If he was going to face the brain-destroying… creature, then he better do it with the rest of his platoon.

Raising his hand, he made a hand-signal. Advance. He gave the order out and almost immediately gunned for the end of the corridor, assault rifle pointed at whatever had expected to meet him. He had many things rack up his mind on what exactly was going to meet him.

In the location he stormed, he saw that he was facing a tall… room. To his left was a curved staircase that went down, and lining up from bottom to top were guard rails for the aforementioned stairs and second floor.

And-

Mathers' eyes widened as he peeked at the bottom from the second floor- And the sight shook him to the core as he instinctively lowered his assault rifle at the sight of what was happening in the first floor. It- It made him gag as he turned away, the rest of the platoon letting curiosity get the best of them and result in them witnessing-

In what could only be described as a display of pure sadism, Mathers observed… something dressed like a scarecrow- Or a twisted fucking copy of one - Holding a KGB agent by their arms up in the air as they kicked and screamed in terror, attempting to pry the- the thing's grip on them. The frantic, panicked, and tragic pleading in Russian doing nothing as the hole in their head seemed to never go away.

On the KGB agent's head was a- hose or something, extending from the scarecrow and drilling directly into that guy's head. Whatever it was doing to him… Fuck. Mathers would've loved to stop it here and there- But that'd risk letting a KGB agent loose. A-and who knows…

At the same time… There's a goddamn monster on the loose in the middle of this- this crack-house. And he had to focus on that- He had to focus on that! He raised his rifle and made hand-signal for the rest to follow him, positioning their weapons using the guard rails as support. Silence reigned throughout the teams as they watched the KGB agent's squealing, begging, and crying wane.

The screams echoed in his head as he could do nothing but merely keep his gun trained on the abomination that had inflicted a not entirely undeserved fate on a Soviet infiltrator. They- they killed Daniel-

Time seemed to stop for Mathers as he saw a lick of blue hair underneath the hat- Oh my fucking God. "Everyone turn off your safeties!" Mathers instinctively ordered as the KGB agent's struggle ceased- With a sickening squish, the insides of their skull turned into nothing but a slurry and slushy mix of remnant brain matter, blood, and bone. The body was tossed to the right, dying an undignified and all-but-sadistic death.

Not that KGB agents didn't deserve it. Those bastards were responsible for the suffering of millions of people for the sake of Romanov's delusions- Turning a blind eye to Salvadorian socialist Sandinista peace activists while they were being raped to death by Soviet-backed 'revolutionary' death squads? Arming ethno-nationalists that just so happened to preach about 'communism' in bumfuck Rwanda? Killing Black Panther leaders just to set back the progress that Fulbright, Rockefeller, and Ford had accomplished and stir up a race war in America?

All KGB. That bastard deserved it. Mathers couldn't help but bite his lip in satisfaction as the terrified look finally entered his vision- His disdain for the dead KGB was easy to camouflage, but in a live case like this it was hard to hide.

No matter. The bigger problem was that in front of him was a monster. Yet… That blue hair color gave him second thoughts. Mathers continued raising his gun, giving a whistle to the monster that terminated another monster.

"I'd give you my thanks for terminating a KGB agent, whatever the hell you are-" He said as he aimed his gun at- No. No way this could be him. No way. He died right in front of him. There was no simple, plausible, or possible way- "I… Don't even know what you are. Or if you can even speak. Yet, you carry…" He stopped as he closed one eye to aim at the monster. "What the hell are you?"

His eyes widened and pupils dilated in shock as the scarecrow-like figure seemed to stare back at him- Revealing, underneath the hat, blue hair and an almost casual, laid-back expression. Different from the shiftiness of the gas station. Different from the initial encounter where he looked like a soggy cat. No. This was-

It was Daniel. And he had the most casual expression on his face, almost like he never- Never did any of these horrible things. Mathers' jaw seemed to slack and he released his aim from the iron sights of the M16A2. This was all wrong. Daniel was just a regular kid. A normal civilian- Someone who got abandoned by their friends.

Someone normal. Someone mundane. Someone who should be fucking dead.

"Oops~ Have I made too much noise~?" He asked, seemingly taunting. But Mathers couldn't feel any wit or snark intended in his voice. He sounded- He sounded genuinely curious. Almost as if he didn't intend to do any of this. "My apologies, Mathers!~ I was just dealing with… garbage here."

"Daniel-" One of the soldiers intoned. "Is that you? Like," He said, lowering his gun. "Really really you?"

"The 'top-tier fag' Daniel?" The Daniel-creature seemed to recite with an almost-accurate attempt at recreating the tone of… Sarcasm or something. Mathers couldn't tell as he shook while holding the assault rifle. He memorized that? No way that this wasn't Daniel then.

"...Who the fuck called you that?" One of the soldiers asked, almost terrified, a shiver shooting up his spine as the Daniel-creature then moved to stare at him directly, a smile painted on his face as if he just didn't absorb the brains of the KGB-

"Oh! That would be your platoon leader, Lieutenant Andrew Mathers of the 161st Regiment of the Washington Army National Guard!" Daniel recited with unbroken accuracy. It was there that Mathers lowered his gun in fear. "I recall that during my shopping, he called me that word!"

"Of course," He continued, "It was thanks to the wonderful vassals of knowledge in the KGB that taught me the implications of the word!" Mathers' eyes continued to stay widened. Vassals of knowledge? Did he mean- No. He didn't. Please tell him he didn't. Mathers almost hesitated as he looked at Wellstone.

"El-tee," Wellstone all but begged. "What the fuck is he talking about- vessel of knowledge? Please- please tell me he's not talking crazy!" Wellstone could only beg as Mathers blinked in surprise. As much as he wished he had something to do with this… No, Wellstone. He didn't have any idea as to what was going on.

"Worry not, Lance Corporal Joseph Wellstone~" Wellstone almost collapsed the moment his full name was addressed- How in the fuck did Daniel know about their names like that? Mathers turned to Wellstone, then back to the Daniel-creature… thing. "I am referring to the vast, unmatched, and highly intelligent brains of the agents~" He replied almost casually.

"It is thanks to them that I am able to tell you about an extensive operation in Seattle to intensify the student protests and truck protests within the city~" He never stopped smiling as Mathers and the rest of the platoon turned to look at each other, almost… terrified.

The reason they were called into Seattle in the first place was because there was a massive student uproar in conjunction with some truckers striking. Something about the whole uproar felt off anyway- It was almost… staged. Like. The opposite of grass-roots. It was… Metal-pole. Artificial. Not organic.

And this alone confirmed his suspicions.

"...For what reason?" Mathers simply asked, lowering his weapon. He turned to the rest of the platoon and intoned them to do the same. Better not provoke the Daniel-creature… Assuming it even was Daniel in the first place.

"Ah… That would be to root out a spy that had stolen nuclear secrets from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics." That one caused Mathers to almost jump, but not the rest of the platoon, who had lowered their guns in exchange for confused expressions. "Specifically, about their MIDAS nuclear arsenal~" Everyone in the platoon seemed to jump in surprise at the mention of that.

"Their what?!"

"Goddamn Romanov! I knew that bastard was trying something shifty underneath our noses-! Fucking, fuck!"

"First we've got faggot monsters and then the commies rebuilding nukes- Knew I should've stayed home."

"Hold on," Mathers asked. "What the hell are we supposed to do with this information- Actually, hold that thought, answer it later," He said as he split off from the platoon and headed downstairs, hand-signalling the platoon to hold fire. As he approached Daniel, he felt like he was staring death in the eyes itself.

Except if Death was a goddamn faggot who could suck out knowledge by literally feeding off your brain. But he didn't have that in his bingo.

He coughed as he stared back at a smirking, amused Daniel. "How do I know you're- You're really Daniel?"

"You could start by giving me my thermos and groceries back~" He closed his eyes and grinned. Hesitantly, Mathers propped his gun up against a nearby crate of something and unclipped the bag and thermos from his LCE, slowly but steadily placing it in front of Daniel. A plop sound rang in his head as he placed the bag down, almost comically so.

Daniel seemed to nod and- In a flash, he glowed and- Holy shit. He changed forms in just an instant, going from the scarecrow creature to- Back to regular Daniel. Around him, sparks of glowing, paper slip-shaped things flew around before dissipating. Daniel smiled as he opened up his grocery bag.

"Ah, splendid. You kept everything in one piece," Mathers almost shat himself then and there, realizing something. If he had been improper with the bag throughout the house raid… Oh shit. He might have died if he pissed Daniel off with that. He just nodded and went with the flow, afraid that Daniel's wrath might be provoked if he tried anything. "Thank you! My instant coffee and water are still in one piece!"

The rest of the platoon descended from the stairs as they looked at Daniel, who opened up his thermos, poured the almost half-a-litre bottle of water into, then put in the instant coffee after tearing through the packaging. He ended it all by closing his thermos, vigorously shaking it, and then drinking from it.

The reactions were generally mixed as the platoon stared back at each other.

"So this was the monster that slaughtered this outpost… Some fag who should be dead, but isn't. Some fag who shouldn't be a monster, but is. Yikes."

"...If this is what being a cocksucker does-"

"Keep calling him a fag, a queer, or a cocksucker, and we could all be the reason our families' brains have been turned into slurry."

"Shit. I'm not going to trifle with that."

Mathers just… He felt immensely lucky. If he had opened fire… Who knows what Daniel would've done? And the worst part was that he'd be almost understandable in doing what he did if Mathers had shot at him first. Good god.

This night was terrifying, and deserving of an introspect. They had just barely come out of this mission, landing a lucky hit on the bulls-eye in the "do not get massacred by a horrible creature" dartboard. Unlike the KGB agents, Daniel seemed to be almost… Calm with them. Which sent shivers down Mathers' spine, causing him to jitter a little.

One wrong move earlier…

"Thank you for not turning us into a brain slurry," Wellstone said, wheezing his words out. "I… I'm sorry for what happened."

"Oh, it's alright~ I wouldn't-"

Just then, a door behind Daniel burst open, causing the rest of the platoon bar Mathers—whose gun was propped up near somewhere—to raise their weapons at the newcomers. Daniel, meanwhile, only seemed to slowly turn around. Who the hell was it that came to greet them-?

Mathers' eyes widened, locking on to the first person he was none other than CIA Director George Bush, covered in blood and holding a handgun that seemed to just have freshly fired a bullet. The hell was he doing here in the middle of Seattle? Wasn't- No. This was good, Mathers shook his head. Really good.

Bush then stepped aside, letting two men make their way through first.

The one who took right position was a man with a green hair and a green outfit- He almost… Yeah. He looked somewhat similar in motif to Daniel. Yeesh- Oh shit. That meant more… No. He suppressed any negativity. Better keep his new accomplices happy.

The one who took left position was a man who wore a hawaiian shirt, cargo pants, and some obscuring glasses. He seemed very out-of-place for someone who was supposed to be in extremely soggy and rainy Seattle. But… Yeah. He didn't have any other comments.

Then, making way was- Mathers squinted. What entered the door at dead last was… Something. Someone. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that he could properly see it. But no. Nothing. The figure took on many shapes- A National Guard uniform flashed in front of his eyes. Next, the green man. Then, Director George Bush. His eyes widened in surprise as the figure kept shifting forms.

But these forms all had one thing in common, he noticed as the figure started moving its hand near its face.

Whatever form he took, it had no discernible face to look at. Nothing to distinguish their face. Nothing that looked out of the ordinary- It looked like a formless combination of every face that he's ever seen in his life.

Then, in a flash, the figure stopped shifting- and instead, Mathers was greeted by a middle-aged man, some similarities to George Bush. He had black, messy hair, in combination with black gloves and a black two-piece suit. The only non-black thing about him was his white undershirt. And in his hands was a black mask-

His eyes widened. That mask was what threw him off. If it was on his face- Then he wouldn't be able to tell who he was dealing with.

And next to him was CIA Director George Bush… Shit. It didn't take two mathematic geniuses to figure out what that meant. Now this must have been a CIA thing.

The formerly-masked man took off his black gloves, which- As soon as they came off and were placed in his pockets, sound mysteriously came back for the room. He didn't even notice until a pin literally dropped. He couldn't hear his own mumbling.

"Fuck- I can hear myself again!" Wellstone said, lowering his gun.

"D-Director Bush!" Mathers spoke up. "I-"

"Holy shit," The green man opened up as he looked at Daniel, before taking a swig out of his thermos. "Chesed. I didn't know you could manifest E.G.O. out of the library."

Mathers stared at Wellstone in confusion upon hearing that.

...What was this about manifesting your ego now?