"FUCK"
"FUCK"
The shadow moved through the forest. The wind moved the branches of the trees, carrying with it the silence of the trenches.
"CAPTAIN… Captain… Damn it."
Jonathan Crane held the radio. His breathing was heavy, and his skin had lost its warm colour under the bluish atmosphere of the night.
"ANTONIO… ANSWER THE DAMN RADIO."
Interference.*
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE MISSILES?!"
Silence was his only answer to the soft interference emitted by the radio… Jonathan breathed in harshly; his hands trembled with the touch of the breeze. He brought them near his mouth and blew softly. He kneeled and lowered his sniper, trying to find the right spot.
Jonathan finally made up his mind and supported it over a plain part of the ground as he lay face down. He put his shoulder on the buttstock and his eye on the scope… he aimed towards the orange light coming from down the hill.
Fire… corpses… blood… Jonathan forced himself to search within the burning hell his comrades… his friends, stayed in.
After scanning the terrain, he removed his eye from the scope and breathed once again. But this time his chest felt heavy, even breathing became hard, his vision blurred, and for a second he felt blinded.
But then a question struck his dizzy mind.
¿The combat… What happened to the…?
He lunged to his sniper again and vigilantly observed the trenches while his heart pounded quicker every second… he glanced toward the hole his comrades used as protection.
He noticed them. Hiding in the shadowed corners, fragile shadows ready to assault, awaiting an order that Jonathan started to believe would never arrive.
Nonetheless, the sound of a branch snapping called his attention.
"SHIT"
Jonathan turned around and reached for his handgun as he quickly rose. He squinted his eyes to search for the intruder. However, the forest remained silent, completely silent.
But then a single sound screamed near his bag, loud against the quietness of the forest. THE RADIO.
The steps changed direction. Slowly, they became unbearable to hear. Jonathan's heartbeat synchronised with the tapping sound on the dirt as it approached his position. He grabbed his gun, finger ready on the trigger.
A shadow appeared in front of Jonathan. Without any doubt, He pressed the trigger as fast as his trembling fingers permitted him.
The body of the intruder hit the ground, making a loud sound as the gun also fell, making a metallic sound that Jonathan found disgusting. He rushed to the soldier in search of ammunition, but the radio emitted a sound again… interference, but this time behind it were words.
"#$&/y(#"… OFF "#$R"
Jonathan threw himself toward the radio. He then let himself fall to his knees to reach it, stretching his hand. His widened eyes said everything.
"The attack… WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE ATTACK?" yelled Jonathan. "The missiles, why haven't we attacked yet?"
The radio emitted interference again… Jonathan clenched his free hand and threw the radio against the ground with the other.
He stood up and walked in circles.
He punched his leg.
He bit his lip.
But the radio once again caught his attention… Jonathan stopped and stared toward it. His mouth was slightly open. The voice on the radio felt like a distant dream. And still more real than ever.
"There"… "There is not."
…
Michael Keller held a cup in his hand, patient… silent… smiling.
…
Silence
Perfect silence.
From the shadows, a figure crossed his sight. Each step echoed in the closed room. His butler appeared with a wine bottle, approaching him with short steps, a characteristic he had earned with the years.
But Michael did not flinch, nor did he shiver.
"Have someone called me?" asked Michael as his butler, Antoine, poured the wine into his glass.
"No, sir," the butler stopped and breathed in as he finished serving the wine to his master. "However, Victor Kami is outside, awaiting his audience."
Michael smirked. "Let the kid in, then," he claimed, moving his index and middle fingers outwards.
The butler approached the door as quickly as his old body permitted, and with a minor complaint, he pulled the door.
The light from the hallway contrasted with the silhouette of Victor Kami as he stepped in and reached for his pocket to grab a vape.
"Victor… Victor… something to drink?" asked Michael as he stood up to shake Victor's hand.
Nonetheless, Victor swung his hand outward and sat down, staring at the now-empty chair behind the desk.
Michael, with his hand still in the air, was left with a tensed smile. He quickly closed his hand and turned around. His steps resounded on the wood floor as he approached his desk.
"One month," said Victor as Michael sat down.
"Not fast enough," answered Michael as he grabbed his wine glass. his psture was mechanical but natural at the same time.
"I cannot force less," Victor inhaled from his vape and slowly let it out. "After all, you are playing against the laws of physics."
"That is why I contacted you," Michael crossed his legs. and opened his arms, "The prodigious child that would change the world," he stated, closing his arms but letting just one pointing towards Victor.
Victor stood up, his hands resting inside the pockets of his lab coat. His cheeks burned red as he listened to the title he once owned.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft light from the orange bulb hanging on the ceiling. It felt almost as if they were inhabiting the void itself, or at least those were Victor's thoughts.
"I'm going to change it," said Victor, stopping right in front of the door. His body was completely straigh let his brown shoes visible under the black trousers, his lab coat covering from his knees to his neck.
"I believe so," said Michael as he spun his chair to face the large window. "Nonetheless, don't forget whose money is going to change it."
Victor Kami clenched his jaw as he walked away, his black hair seeming white under the harsh light of the hallway. His eyes shone to show their honey colour.
He stopped right in front of the metal doors of the elevator. He pressed the button, which turned red at the moment. On the screen, the numbers slowly started to rise 1..3…4..10..16. A beeping sound was emitted from the metal box.
"Idiot," whispered Victor as he stepped inside the elevator.
Michael was at the other end of the hallway, smiling as he drank from his glass.
"Antoine"
The butler approached Michael, bending in sign of respect.
"Have all of them accepted the terms of the meeting?"
"They reluctantly have," said antoine "everyone would be ready for the meeting on january five wich is tomorrow." Antoine approached his hand to his lips,"…if I'm not wrong." Antoine paused and stood upright.
"Quite interesting," whispered Michael as he drank another sip of his wine.
"Prepare the jet," ordered michael shaking his wine glass, which almost spilled.
Antoine nodded silently and walked away.
Michael Keller remained silent, staring towards the window… seeing a city that felt unreal, a dream made out of steel and iron. A cluster of soulless towers built over the cadaver of civilization. He admired its shining white lights, the concrete floor, and the fast white and yellow dots that crossed them.
HE turned again to face his desktop, stretching his hand to open a drawer. The desk was made out of pure wood. He slid his hand across the smooth surface, admiring every detail. It truly is a piece of furniture he was proud of.
The folder that came out of it was black, made out of plastic with golden corners. In the middle It was visible the reflection of a star… an eight-pointed star made out of grey leather.
"I would keep my promise." Michael saved the folder again and grabbed his wine glass almost empty.
He approached it to his mouth wich already made an O shape to drink. But he stopped. As his jaw stiffened.
"Thomas".