The Way of Things (3 page)

The disbelief on John's face said it all. He
was stunned, the more he looked at Michael, the more his shock
turned to anger. He glared at Michael. "Your crazy" he said calmly.
He was not sure what to think about what he had just heard. Did
this guy have the resources to make John disappear? Could this all
be true? Michael stood behind John while he talked. "It's okay John
there is something good that can come from all this, now is your
chance to make a change and do something meaningful with your new
life."

Michael smiled at John while he spoke, he
was passionate and seemed to enjoy what he was saying. But John's
rebellious spirit took over and he yelled at Michael. "You're
fucking nuts!" Michael's expression changed to anger, his knuckles
cracked as he hit John across the face knocking him on to the
floor. "Never interrupt me." Michael walked out of the room leaving
John where he fell. John was still feeling the effects of the drugs
he was given and now he was laying on the floor strapped to a metal
chair with his lip bleeding. He was at the mercy of a lunatic. It
was easier to give in to the drugs than to think about what just
happened.

The next day, John woke up in what looked
like a jail cell, his clothes had been changed to an ugly orange
jump suit it looked like something a convict would be wearing in
prison. His brain was running wild. How could any of this be true?
And if it was true then what did Michael want from him, he had
nothing left to give. John was pacing around the cell trying to
digest what Michael had told him. A green light in his room lit up,
then his cell door unlocked and opened, it was Michael. "Come with
me John." He did not say a word, after all what could he say.
Nothing would change what was happening to him. Michael walked down
the long narrow hallway that had the same decorating perks of the
white room John was in the night before. White floors, white walls
and bright lights. John slowly followed Michael into a room at the
end of the hall. It was the same white interrogation room with the
big mirror. Michael pointed to the metal chair in the center of the
room. "Sit down." John shook his head but he still sat in it.

"Here is the deal John, I represent a
section of the government that is sanctioned with the liberation of
hostile threats against this government and its interest." John
snickered. "You mean you kill people." Michael turned his back to
John and looked at his reflection in the mirrored window. He
straightened his tie and said "Yes, we kill people, people who need
to be killed." John stood up in protest. "You've got the wrong guy,
I'm not a killer." Michael continued to look at his reflection and
never at John. "Yes, you are, you just need to embrace it." John
was startled by Michael's comment and he sat back down in the
chair. He could not help but think about all the innocent people
that he had killed while he was in the military. He was always told
that there was a greater good that had to come first, that
sometimes bad things had to be done for the right reasons.

When John was running Black Ops there was a
lot of rumors about other secret operations that the government
ran, off of the books. The kind of secret operations that nobody in
DC would ever talk about because it would destroy political careers
and rip at the heart of american pride. John remembered one night
in Iraq when he was playing a poker game with his merry band of
shooters and looters along with two CIA agents that loved to drink
whiskey and brag about things that nobody outside of that room
should ever know. The more they drank, the more they talked.

Before that night John had only heard a
whisper of a myth. A myth called Archangel. A covert section in the
government that recruited people to assassinate targets in the USA
and in other countries, if the task called for it. These targets
called Clients by Archangel had done some of the most gut wrenching
and evil crimes that the planet had ever seen. Mass murders,
Genocides and many other unimaginable crimes against humanity. John
could not hold back any longer. "Are we talking about
Archangel?"

Michael turned to face John. He ignored the
question completely. "I need you to work with me, I have some tasks
that I need to complete and I need you. You have the background and
expertise that I require and I'm short on time. John, there are
only two ways this conversation can end. Are you in?"

At times, Michael seemed more like a
salesman instead of a government assassin. John gave a long pause
before asking "What's in it for me if I help you?" Michael smiled
with a smile only the devil could appreciate. "I'll give you the
man responsible for all your pain. I'll give you Chenglei Chung."
Michael could see the rage in John's eyes, that was the push John
needed, he had him. "I'm in." There was not any hesitation that
time, John was eager to do anything to avenge his wife and daughter
and he was more than willing to get his hands bloody in the
process. Michael walked towards the door. "That is good news. I
knew I could count on you. Besides John it's not like you had a
choice anyway."

The Park

A few weeks had gone by and John and Michael were
walking through Central Park. The last few weeks had been an eye
opening experience for John as Michael had been explaining to John
what was expected of him. He had to teach John the way of things.
John had many skills and talents but he had to embrace that killer
instinct that was hiding deep inside. Michael knew it was there, he
could see it in his eyes and after today John would know it as
well. Michael stopped and bought some popcorn from a vendor. "Your
client is over there." John looked at an old man sitting on a park
bench feeding popcorn to the pigeons. "That old man, what threat
could he be to anyone?" Michael grabbed a handful of popcorn. "He
looks dangerous John. Why don't you go ask him? Call me when it's
done." Michael smiled at John and walked away.

John walked over to the park bench and sat
down next to the old man. He did not say anything at first, after
all what do you say to someone that you are going to kill? After a
minute the man started to talk to John. "I see you were in the
military" The old man pointed to John's tattoo on his arm. "Yes, I
put in some time." The old man smiled at him and held out his hand.
"My name is Erick." John shook his hand. "It is nice to meet you
Erick, I'm John," Erick smiled and continued to feed the birds. He
was an older, balding man, wearing glasses. He reminded John of his
grandfather, he even dressed like him, from his tan pants to his
pocket protector holding two pens in it. 'Just like grandpa' John
thought to himself. John gave his best shot at some small talk. "I
bet you saw some action in your time?" John's comment was half a
question and half a statement. Erick looked at him "I was in number
two. I saw more action than most." There was the sound of pride in
Erick's tone. Erick pulled his sleeve up to show a Nazi Swastika.
"Somethings are what they are and things can't be changed," Erick
told John. A minute of silence went by. "Let me tell you a story
John," he said.

John kept a cold poker face as Erick went on
to tell several stories about his time working at a Nazi
Concentration Camp. There was a kind of sparkle in his eye as he
spoke with pride about the hundreds of people he ordered to be
killed. "The smell of flesh, burning flesh could be smelled for
miles away from the camp," Erick said as he giggled with delight.
"I remember this one time I went into a small town just down the
road from the camp. They had this Inn that had the most beautiful
girl working there. Her name was Anna and my thoughts of her would
wander like clouds on a windy day," Erick remembered. "Did you
marry her?" John asked hoping to change the subject. "No, it was
not meant to be after all she was not pure. One day I found out she
had been with several of my guards and an example had to be made of
her." John had to know where this story was going, "What did you
do?" he asked. "I sent my men into the town and had them bring back
to the camp every female that lived there, regardless of age."
Erick said as he leaned back and smiled. "John, the smell it lasted
for days." Erick had a boyish smile on his face.

After an hour of listening to Erick's
stories, John's gut was turning. He was convinced he was hearing
the Devil speak fondly of his time in Hell. Erick had just finished
a story about when he had met Hitler and then he said something
that really caught John off guard. "Are you here to kill me?" John
wanted to say yes, but his mouth had other plans. "I'm sorry, what
did you just say?" "It's ok if you are, everyone's time has to
come." Erick had his hand in the popcorn bag, John heard a click,
the recognizable sound of the hammer of a gun being pulled back.
Erick tilted the bag at John. "I enjoyed our talk." Erick raised
the bag to John's head. John knew what was coming next, he quickly
grabbed a pen from Erick's shirt pocket and moved just as Erick
pulled the trigger, the bullet missed but the pen did not. John had
rammed the pen into Erick's neck so hard that it was showing out
the back. John watched as Erick's eyes rolled back in his head.
Blood was pouring out of Erick's mouth but he still was able to
mumble his last words "Thank You."

John ran as fast as he could toward the
street, just then Michael pulled up in a rusted out four door Buick
that was missing hubcaps. Michael yelled "Get in!" John hopped in
and smoke poured out of the back of the car as they sped away. "I
don't like being used like this. This is bullshit!" John's
adrenaline was pumping out of control. "Relax John, you did good."
Michael was calm and had a smile on his face. John grabbed a pack
of cigarettes off the dash, pulled one out and lit it. Michael had
a stupid grin on his face. John just looked at him and took a drag
of the cigarette. "Where did you get this piece of shit car?"
Michael did not say anything he just smiled and kept driving.

Now it was official. John was a killer. In a
way things had gone full circle. When he was in Black Ops he had to
killed people for the government. There was some very bad people
that died at the end of John's rifle scope and even some unlucky
souls that met a more painful end at the end of his knife blade.
Every kill changed John a little bit more. His personality got
colder and he lost a small part of himself with every bullet that
he shot. That all changed when he left the military and became a
police officer.

Becoming a cop was great for his soul. He
was back on track to what he thought was his true calling. He
wanted to save lives and to protect the innocent. It gave him
something to focus on. It gave him a reason to live again. When his
wife Victoria and his daughter Lucy were gunned down in cold blood
he was changed forever. That path of righteousness died that night
with his family. From that moment only one thing lived in his
heart, vengeance. Michael was giving John a way to get his
vengeance for his family and at the same time giving him a new way
to look at his quest for righteousness.

The Hotel

As time went on John had earned Michael's trust
and he allowed John to use an apartment in the city. The two had
seemed to be getting close to each other and Michael would often
confide in John. For John a sense of normalcy was starting to come
into focus, still he was plagued by the memories of Victoria and
Lucy. The day Lucy was born was the happiest day of his life. He
had to fight his way through traffic to get to the hospital, but
nothing was going to stop him from seeing the birth of his little
girl. Lucy gave new life to John's and Victoria's marriage, they
were inseparable, at least until John set his eyes on the
Triads.

John's cellphone that he got from Michael
finally rang, "I need you to check the mailbox at 1st and Main.
Your next target is waiting." John's stomach started to turn. "Okay
I'm on my way." He picked up the keys to the crappy Buick that
Michael had stolen. It was John's now. He made his way to the
mailbox on 1st. Michael had told John that if he had a new client
he would find an envelope under that mailbox. Just like he was
told, it was there. A part of him had hoped that this was just a
test and that there was not an envelope. John pulled the envelope
from the bottom and took it back to the car. Inside was a photo
with the words The Excelsior Hotel main entrance at 2pm. The
Excelsior Hotel was a three and a half star hotel at best. It was
on 81st street near Central Park.

It did not take long for John to get to the
hotel. After looking at the entrance he decided to go inside a
small coffee shop across the street. He got a table near the window
so he could see the hotel front door and more importantly see
everyone that goes in and comes out. John ordered several coffees
while waiting patiently for the time to pass. Finally it was almost
2pm and he could not take his eyes off of the front entrance. As he
focused his attention across the street he saw Spiderhead come from
inside of the hotel and start walking down 81st street. John's
heart started racing, he wanted to chase after him, he would never
forget Tommy dying in his arms. He would never forgive Chung for
sending him down this path and now he had the chance to catch
Spiderhead and make him pay for killing Tommy. But he could not
just leave, not now, he had a job to do. What would Michael do to
him if he missed his client?

John stood frozen at his table staring at
the entrance to the hotel, meanwhile Spiderhead was getting further
away from him, he was missing his chance. He checked his watch, it
was 2:01pm "Fuck me." John ran out of the coffee shop and down the
street after Spiderhead, after running a few blocks there was no
sign of him. John had lost him, again. "Shit." John ran back to the
hotel hoping to catch his client but he did not know if he missed
him or not, he looked inside the lobby of the hotel, it was empty.
He had missed his client.