“Okay, fine. Do you know anything about the people who tried to kill me?” I asked as I approached the two of them.
“We will tell you all about it when we get to the base,” Jack said.
I agreed to go with them to get answers, and I knew that if they tried to kidnap me, I would just kill them. On our way to the base, they both explained who they were to me.
“As you can see, my partner and I are STR operatives. I was a green beret before I retired and joined the STR,” Jack said.
“And I was in the JTF2 before I retired and joined the STR,” Harper said.
“Canadian military?” I asked.
“Yes. The American STR branch shares with Canada,” she said.
Chapter Eight
We reached the STR headquarters and parked in the lot outside.
“So, this is where you work?” I asked.
“Yep. It was established at the end of the Cold War,” Harper replied.
We entered the base. The building was the size of a standard high rise. We reached an elevator and pressed B1. When the doors opened, we entered a large room. It was dimly lit, and there were people at computers throughout the room with a giant screen in the front of everything. You could hear people chatter about various subjects. We entered the office at the end of the ramp that went upwards. A man was waiting for us there.
He was an old man, late seventies, judging by the looks of it, with wrinkled skin, and gray hair. He wore a black trench coat, a black shirt, black pants, and black boots.
“So you’re the sole survivor of the Omega Project. My name is John Mathis. I am the Director of the Strategic Tactical Reserve, or STR if you’re too lazy to say the whole thing,” John said as he went to shake my hand.
“Hi. What’s all this?” I asked.
“This is the world’s most advanced counter-terrorist organization. It was founded after the Cold War by the United Nations. Our goal is to neutralize any and all terrorist organizations in the world. The majority of STR operatives are ex-Special Forces and/or clandestine service that retired and joined to give them something to do, and we’re talking best of the best. Our main method of operations is to hire special operatives from around the globe to neutralize threats or targets of interest.”
“Fascinating. Do people do missions alone or in teams?” I asked.
“A bit of both. For are new people, we give them a partner to work with; and when they have enough experience, they have the option to work alone. But to work alone takes some time,” he said.
“Sounds a little like the French Foreign Legion,” I said.
“In a way, but we function a bit differently. What we do have in common is that we take in anyone from anywhere,” he said.
“Who were the people trying to kill me?” I asked.
“They work for a terrorist organization called the Union. They were founded during the beginning of the Cold War as well, by many former Nazi operatives and other terrorist parties at the time. They would go on to be behind almost every major terrorist attack and political disaster in the world from the Bay of Pigs failure to 9/11,” John said.
“How do they get funding?” I asked.
“They’re mostly funded by corrupt businesses and politicians by promising them the upper hand against their competitors. For example, for years now, renewable energy has made massive leaps forward, such as solar and wind power, but the Union promised the energy companies that these technologies would remain the dark in exchange for funding,” John explained.
“One of the guys said something before he died. ‘Long live the Union,’” I said.
“It’s their catchphrase. They’re brainwashed to be loyal to the Union,” he said.
“How do they manage to recruit people?”
“They mostly go after ex-con’s or people with low self-esteem who want a purpose in life and promise them whatever they need: money, drugs or whatever they wish if they join. For example, if a soldier commits an infraction like stealing and someone tried to inform his or her superiors about it, the Union will promise that they will help cover up the incident in exchange for allegiance to the Union. The best people they go after are those with something to offer, like CEO’s for money or, politicians, obviously, for political influence.”
“Doesn’t anyone have any evidence of the Union being responsible for these events?”
“They use Gestapo tactics to cover their tracks. Basically, we know a lot about them and can prove nothing,” John replied.
“Did they have anything to do with the destruction of the Omega Project?” I asked.
“Yes, they were behind the destruction and theft of the Omega Project,” he said.
“What did they do? I only saw a glimpse of what happened before I escaped,” I asked.
“They launched an attack and ransacked the base, killed any witnesses, and gathered all research regarding the Type-1 serum. Since then, they took the research and perverted it to make bio-weapons to be used for terrorist attacks.”
“Bio-weapons?”
“Mutants. Throughout the years many, bio-terrorist attacks cropped up throughout the globe. Even worse, some powerful pharmaceutical companies would assist in providing funding and research for bio-chemical weapons for the Union in exchange to continue the war on drugs, which allowed them to rake in a lot of money,” John said as the monitor showed various monstrous creatures attacking military installations and civilian targets.
“We have been after them for years, and we barely know anything about the Union.”
“Do you guys have anything on the Omega Project, like where it was or who was killed?” I asked.
“Sadly, not much. The US government really wanted the project to be kept under wraps. Everyone who worked on it signed non-disclosure agreements and were kept off the books. Not to mention the fact that they’re all dead now. Almost no records were left when the Omega Project facility was attacked,” he replied.
“Why did they do it?”
“I guess that the Omega Project inadvertently gave birth to a new race of bio-weapons that not only were dangerous but highly profitable, and they saw fit to make it stop. The reason I had my men bring you in is because we need you. You may be a high school student, but you’re also the world’s most powerful and only super soldier. You have been genetically engineered to be a one-man army, and that’s why we need you. We want to give you a job here fighting terrorists, and we pay very well.”
I rubbed my face and paced a bit, trying to piece together all the information that I was being fed. I placed my hands on the back of my neck and took a breath trying to gather my thoughts.
“It sounds interesting, but I just don’t know about all this,” I said as I dropped my hands. “Not to mention, aren’t their laws against recruiting someone my age to fight?”
“The world does not have three years. We need you here now, so the UN and ourselves had to cut some corners.”
I paused for a minute to think and let all this sink in.
“How about we give you some time to think about our proposal?” he asked.
“Fine,” I replied.
“Give me a call if you’re interested,” John said as he handed me a card. I also gave him my phone number just in case.
As I was being driven home by Jack, I stared out the window, watching things go by, pondering about everything that happened today.
I came home. I peeked through the front window. Mom was sitting down on the couch with her arms crossed, and Dad was sitting next to her with his arms wrapped around her as though trying to reassure her, judging by the looks of it. When I came in, she got up from the couch and walked up to me.
“Where have you been? We have been worried sick about you,” Mom said.
“We heard about the attack at the school. Are you okay?” Dad asked.
“I’m fine. How did you know?” I asked confused.
“First off, the principal called. And it was on the news,” Mom said as she pointed to the TV.
The TV showed live coverage of the aftermath of the attack, how nine bodies were found in one of the bathrooms. One of the reporters interviewed the principal, some staff members, and some students. Mom looked at me with her eyes wide.
“What happened there?” she asked.
“Assassins from some terrorist organization tried to kill me,” I replied.
“Terrorists tried to kill you?” Dad asked.
“Yes, but I’m okay,” I replied.
“Thank God you’re okay, but what if they come back?” Dad said.
“Why did terrorists try to kill you, and who are they?” Mom asked.
“Look, I need some time alone, okay?” I shouted as I walked off.
I went up to my room and laid down on my bed trying to get my head straight. Later that evening, I talked to my parents about what happened at school. I told them about the Union and the STR after dinner as we sat in the living room.
“So, let me get this straight, a top-secret terrorist organization sent assassins to kill you. And then you get picked up by secret agents and you’re asked to work for a spy organization, right?” Dad asked.
“Kind of. They were special agents with the STR, and they said that the Union was behind the attack that destroyed the Omega Project,” I explained.
My parents were confused on what to do about the situation. They took it pretty well.
“Okay. Why don’t we just call the police?” Mom asked.
“They may not be equipped to take care of them. Hell, some of them may be working for the Union. Look. I promise I will make sure the Union does not hurt you guys,” I said.
“That’s not what this is all about. This is about the fact that terrorists are trying to kill you. Look, maybe we should move somewhere else for a little while until this all dies down,” Dad suggested.
“No, we stay,” I said “I’m not afraid of them. Besides they will find us. They have people just about everywhere on Earth.”
“Okay, so what do we do? We just can’t have terrorists always trying to kill you,” Mom said.
“I know, but don’t worry. I can handle them,” I said.
Chapter Nine
I arrived at school the next morning with my mind racing about the events from the previous day. As I entered the school, the principal approached me.
“Connors, my office!” the principal said. He was a bald man with a small beard, and he wore a brown suit.
I followed the principal to his office, and we sat down to talk about what happened.
“I saw the surveillance footage of you entering the bathroom,” The principal showed me the footage from outside the bathroom on his computer. On the tape, we saw me and the guys entering the bathroom. He fast-forwarded to the part where the last assassin left with me in pursuit with a gun.
“Look, this is a quiet school and I intend to keep it that way. Now is there anything you need to tell me? If you going to this school is going to put the staff and students in danger, I will have to take action, and I don’t want to do that,” the principal said.
“I don’t know what those guys wanted, but I can assure you my presence will not put the staff and students in danger,” I replied.
“For your sake, I hope not. That will be all. You’re dismissed,” the principal said.
I exited the principal’s office and went to class. After leaving, I leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, and then continued onward.
As I left the main office, I heard almost every student that I walked by talking about the attack.
“This is freaky. What do you think they wanted?” one student asked another student.
“I don’t know. I heard one of the substitute teachers was killed,” the other student said as I walked by.
“Do you think that there could be another attack?” another student asked one of her friends.
“What if the country is about to be invaded by someone?” another student said to his friend as I walked by.
So many students were talking about the attack. Luckily, it sounded like they didn’t know what really happened. During English class, we were having a conversation about the attack before we got started on lecture. While they were talking, I sat slouching in my desk with my arms crossed and my head down, listening to what the other students were saying and trying not to get involved.
“I heard that one of the teachers killed those dudes,” one student said.
“Yeah. It was all over the news. They even said that whoever killed the attackers said it was done by one person,” another student said.
“Why haven’t they told us who it really was then?” another student asked.
“Look on the bright side at least none of the students were hurt,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Do you think that there will be another attack? I mean, what if they kill everyone here?” another student asked.
“I highly doubt it. Let’s drop this conversation for now, and let’s get to work,” Mr. Bennet said.
We pulled out our books, and did as Mr. Bennet said. I pulled out my book, slightly burying my head into it. I also drifted off a bit, thinking about the attack.
Later at lunch while everyone else was talking about the attack, I just couldn’t stay focused. The fighting kept playing in my mind over and over again. I felt trapped, so I left the table. I walked to Mr. Bennett’s classroom to see if I could join him, hoping he could help me.
“Excuse me, would it be okay if I joined you?” I asked.
“Sure, come on in,” Mr. Bennet replied as I entered the room. He was grading papers and eating lunch. I sat down at one of the desks.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“I can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday. I keep going back to it over and over. I just can’t seem to get it out of my head,” I said. Mr. Bennet got up from his desk.
“Yeah. It sounds like the whole school can’t stop talking about it. So far in all three of my morning classes, all the students could talk about was the attack. I called your mother yesterday about what happened. She told me that you have a complicated past,” Mr. Bennet said.
“How much did she tell you?” I asked, worried.
“She told me enough. Now look I may not know what you’re going through, but I know that things for you are complicated. That’s okay though; some people have complicated lives. You just got to remember to live the life you want to live. Do you want to be a student here or something else?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“I just want to be a student for now,” I replied.
“Then just keep doing what you do here, and be a student,” he replied.
During drama class, while the teacher was talking, I was daydreaming about the attack again. The teacher noticed that I was not staying focused and called me out.
“Alex!” she asked.
“Uh yes, ma’am?” I said as I snapped out of it.
“Is something wrong?” she said.
“Uh, no. No, everything is fine. Sorry,” I replied.
After class, Sarah approached me.
“Is everything okay?” she asked as we walked out of class.
“I’m fine, why?” I replied.
“Why did you leave lunch so early?” Sarah asked.
“I needed some air. I take it the attack is getting to everyone,” I said.
“Yeah, I mean everyone is talking about what happened yesterday, and it’s freaking a lot of people out. I heard some of the teachers said that the guys were after you,” Sarah said.
“It’s just rumors. To tell you the truth I wasn’t even there. I was feeling sick, and I went home to rest,” I replied.
“Really, what was wrong?” she asked.
“Stomach ache,” I replied.
“Oh, uh, okay then. So, who do you think the guys were after?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
As we walked, we saw the homecoming poster on the wall. The words were blue, and it was covered in glitter.
>
“You going to homecoming this Saturday?” Sarah asked.
“I was thinking about it. Why?” I asked.
“You should come. We will all be there,” Sarah said.
“Well, it might be a good distraction,” I replied.
“Yeah. I think we can use a good one. I’ll see ya,” Sarah said as she walked off.
Later that night, I did my homework, and I still could not get the attack off my mind. All I could think about was the fight, but more importantly, I thought of the Omega Project. Now that I knew who was behind the attack and the deaths of all those people, I had a chance to seek out closure.
After I finished all of my homework, I went downstairs to tell my parents about the dance.
“Can I go to the homecoming dance this weekend?” I asked.
“Of course, you can. We need to get you a nice suit,” she replied.
“I also need to learn how to dance.”
“You were trained in seven styles of martial arts, but you were never taught to dance?” Mom asked.
“Dancing was not necessary for fighting the enemy.”
“True,” she replied as she got up from the couch. I walked up to her. She grabbed my waist and I took her hand, and we swung back and forth. Dad came in and saw us dancing.
“Dance coming up?” he asked.
“This Saturday,” I said.
“Looks like we need to take you shopping,” he said.
Chapter Ten
It was my first homecoming dance. I wore a simple black suit, white shirt and no tie. Mom drove me to the school.
“So, are you excited about the dance?” she asked.
“I guess. I mean, I never been to one before,” I replied.
“Don’t worry. You will have a good time,” Mom said.
We arrived at the gym. It was dimly lit, with blue, green, yellow, and red lights flashing around. Electronic dance music was playing in the background, and the students were dressed formally. When I got there, I saw Sarah and the others standing around the punch bowl, and I went over to join them. Max had a simple suit and tie. Mark had on a black suit, and his collar was unbuttoned. Melissa had a red dress on with an open cut in the skirt, showing her legs. Katie had a gothic black dress on with black gloves. Sarah wore a blue dress with black tights.
The Omega Archives Page 6