Hey guys,
So sorry for the long wait after a cliffhanger. I hope you like this chapter; it was soo hard to write. But it's FINALLY gonna answer the all of those tingling questions from the beginning. It looks like there will be 2 or 3 more chapters for this story. Thank you guys for hanging in there for me! Don't forget to comment and vote!
Sean's head bobbed as the car drove down the narrow road.
They were in a limo in the middle of a caravan of sleek black SUVs, navigating the old streets Santorini. Since there was a high profile wedding today, it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary to see it drive by surrounded by security. Sean slowly opened his eyes and quietly cut himself free from the zip ties with the small inconspicuous knife he carried by his belt loop.
For a moment Sean stared at the man sitting across from him. The man he hated with every fiber of his being. He seemed distracted as he carelessly looked out of the window. To onlookers he seemed like an average middle aged man. He was tall, slim build and nondescript features with salt and pepper hair, but his blue eyes were cold. Colder than any freezing temperatures in Oymyakon.
Sean felt his breath deepen as old memories threatened to surface. There was always a darkness brewing in the pit of his belly. One that he's tried to suppress, but couldn't completely rid himself of. Especially now. He'd never been this close to him before. After all of these years, he was finally sitting just a couple feet away.
Sean could end him right here, right now.
Sean could make him pay for everything he's done.
A slow and painful death. That's what he deserves.
Sean inhaled deeply willing the darkness from within to dissipate. It isn't the time or place. He had to play this right or it would've all been for nothing. Carefully he masked his rage and played it cool.
"So where exactly are you taking me?" Sean started.
Mikhail's head snapped in his direction. He narrowed his eyes but replied, "You'll soon find out. I have something special prepared for
strays
like you..."
He maintained eye contact while the older man analyzed him carefully. There were no signs of fatigue or drowsiness. Sean looked alert. Too alert.
"How is it that you're awake? Glory should've knocked you unconscious for at least 6 hours."
"You sure you gave me the right dosage?"
Mikhail's eyes darkened. "Think carefully about the next thing you will say. I'm only going to ask it once. How?"
"How am I awake?" Sean repeated the question to himself. He pondered telling him the truth or fucking around with him some more. When he saw the older man's anger rising, he relented.
"I prefer to stay in control of my senses. I knew you'd try to drug me so I came prepared. I found a little loophole to your super drug."
That information took Mikhail by surprise. To his knowledge nothing like that existed. His thoughts ran wild at the implications of something like this.
Sean smirked. "Don't work yourself up too much. It's bad for your heart. Here I'll show you." He stretched his now untied hands and reached into his back pocket.
"It wasn't easy. I had to travel to basically the ends of the earth to find a counteragent. But I found it in Bali. There's this little herb called Obatnya, translates as "The Cure". People use it for stamina and fertility... Does wonders for this skin. Anyway as it turns out, it works to not only stop the effects of your wonder-drug Glory, but detoxes it out of your system within 24 hours. Imagine that... After all the trouble you went through to get us all addicted."
Sean tossed him the prescription bottle. "I found a company that took this very special herb and made it into convenient-to-swallow tablets."
Mikhail cautiously opened the bottle, peaked inside and saw that there was indeed a multitude of small pink pills. He swiftly chucked the bottle out of the window.
Sean laughed then confessed, "I hate taking pills too." He groaned as if this whole thing was a mere nuisance. "But I've been good. I've been taking that shit every day, all day; just in case you tried to shoot me up again. Even though they give me the worst headaches. I've been taking those pills and I even..."
He pulled out his trusty silver flask from his tux jacket and took a long swig. "I even have this tea liquid form always on me."
He pursed his lips and looked at the flask. "It's not that bad. I add a little honey and lemon. I know people think its alcohol in here because I'm known to like my vodka. I guess I'm a vain to put it in a flask, huh?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Can't have people think I'm a pussy... drinking tea and shit. But it actually helps calm my nerves."
Although the man masked his expression with a neutral gaze, deep down he was surprised. And nothing surprised him. He always expected the unexpected, ten steps ahead of everyone. So this information threw him for a loop. If this cure was discovered it would definitely put a dent in his plans. He couldn't have that. He needed to remind this little piss-ant who was in control.
Mikhail scoffed. "This doesn't change a thing. You'll give me what I want. I can be very convincing. I did an excellent job last time, don't you think?" He let out an wicked grin. "If put in the right mood, I could easily destroy you... just for fun."
Sean didn't want to admit it but his silky voice sent a chill right through him.
He tried to ignore the man's threat and regarded him for a minute as the car continued to drive smoothly. His left temple throbbed and the carefully hidden darkness in the pit of his stomach threatened to peek again.
After a long stretch of silence.
"I gotta admit this whole charade you had going on was quite impressive." Sean remarked.
The man grabbed a decanter filled with what Sean assumed was brandy and poured himself a drink. He let out a dark smile before taking a generous sip.
"I guess I took pointers from you... Merle." He saluted his now empty glass towards Sean.
"I guess you're right. So Carl Rollins... I'm actually touched you personally handled all of this yourself. You are an extremely hard man to find. I know you started out as a military psychologist so playing one named Mikhail Popov must've been a treat. You know if the real Mikhail knew you were doing that, he would probably welcome the excuse to finally put a bullet in your head."
The disgraced former CIA Director's eye twitched at the mention of that name. He knew what Sean said was true. The last time he saw Mikhail he did indeed take a shot at him. It was by sheer luck he bent down to tie his shoes at the precise time the bullet whizzed above him.
However Mikhail Popov never missed, it was meant to send Rollins a message. He wanted him to know he was that close to being finished.
A notorious long range sniper, no one knew where Mikhail came from. They had no success in tracking the bullet's trajectory; it was over a mile away. He was known to take care of sticky situations when the government's hands were tied. His work was flawless, untraceable and was paid handsomely for it.
The real Mikhail knew Director Rollins was a traitor with incalculable influence. He knew he was planning something big, but he couldn't prove it. Unorthodox in his ways, Mikhail took it upon himself to track Rollins and end him. He would expose him bit by bit and finish him. He considered it a gift to the world.
Just as Mikhail expected, the assassination attempt triggered a thorough investigation into Rollins's past. They concluded the assassination attempt had something to do with some unsavory characters Rollins got himself mixed up with.
Of course they didn't know it was actually Mikhail who conveniently left the cookie crumbs for them to find. Rollins was forced out of office with an official statement thanking him for service, accepting his resignation as he tended to private family matters.
Rollins was furious. How dare they get rid of him! But it didn't matter. He already had everything he needed. He moved to the next phase of his plan. When they finally got an inkling of what Rollins was capable of; he quickly rose to the top of every agency's most wanted list.
What happened in Afghanistan's Khan Farm was not an isolated event. Rollins was systemically destroying U.S. presence all over the world. Rollins orchestrated the seizure of U.S. camps and would then execute the remaining soldiers in the most gruesome and morbid ways. He always made sure to leave a couple of survivors who would then be subject to months of torture and psychological reconditioning coupled with being heavily dosed with Glory.
Then he would release the prisoners and "tie up" any loose ends. The captors who participated in the reconditioning were met with their ultimate fate. They served their purpose and Rollins didn't want any ties that would later lead to him. There were only a precious few he kept close as confidants. His lieutenants. His most trusted men.
After adding the cocktail of the super drug he used, those survivors became walking mummies, not capable of any kind of service. Even when they were released they were so fucked up that there was no hope of them ever having a normal life.
Word quickly spread of what was happening in deployments.
The rumors were exaggerated and there was heightened fear everywhere. Stories of beheaded soldiers became twisted stories of savagery, cannibalism and human sacrifice.
Panic was widespread.
That was the biggest threat.
