The Cleaner

Staines

General Staines rubbed down his epaulettes on his new crisp uniform. He looked himself up and down in the mirror. This had been a long time coming, he looked smart, authoritative, and devilishly handsome. Better than any military uniform he had been dressed in before now. A woman rapped on the door to the locker room breaking his attention away from his own reflection.

"Sir, they are waiting for you" she entered the room Staines was standing in. "You look great, Sir" she blushed and glared off to the side slightly. "How do you feel?"

Staines stared at the woman in thought, as she too began to dust off his epaulettes. "Ready."

Staines fitted his hat to his head as he followed the woman out into the corridor. In a few short minutes he had to deliver one of the most important speeches of his life. His force was about to do something that was heinous in nature but necessary for existence. He wandered through the facility alongside the woman who was going through a checklist on a clipboard. Staines really did not hear her say anything, the sound of her voice was muffled in his head. He could only focus on his breathing, deep breaths in followed by deep breaths out. Though it would not be a feeling he shared, he could only imagine his men to be feeling morally conflicted at what they were about to do. As he reached the open space of the hangar in front of him, he stepped up on to the elevated platform where he was greeted with a podium and a microphone.

Clearing his throat he began, "Gentlemen, I know that this is not the easiest of nights, but the time has come. In a few short hours the landscape of the world as we know it will have changed and I know that this is not a task to be taken lightly. You are part of something bigger, something new and something necessary for our survival as a race. We thank you for the sacrifices you are making, and for the anguish that you may have suffered up to now. Know that we are eternally grateful for you commencing this feat and your personal existence is gratitude for this. You are the start of change, and your duty tonight will forever be registered in history. Once again, we thank you for assisting us in building, quite literally, a new tomorrow."

Staines looked up from his note sheet in front of him and stared at the formation of the army below, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride. All dressed in the same handsome black as he, wearing the luxurious leather gas masks, with the flag dangled and swaying in the breeze behind them. Under the floodlights in the dead of night, they looked flawless and pristine. The planes behind them, wearing the same handsome shade of black, glistened under the glow of the lit hangar. Each plane was branded with the symbol Staines had become quite familiar with and intentionally quite patriotic about. The golden circle with the eagles head and wings within it, contrasted with the black and grey background. It was the dawn of a new beginning. A gun shot resounded and echoed through the tin walls as he saluted, the formation separated, and each column of men disappeared towards one of the planes behind them. The jets whirred an in-tune hum, as they fired up one by one.

Staines looked out among them; it wouldn't be much longer now before the new regime could take place. He joined the jet furthest to the left, it smelt new, a mixture of fresh titanium and leather. Taking his place in the cockpit, he took off his hat replacing it with a mask resembling that of the rest of the soldiers. The co-pilot Brooks, sat next to him and gave him a nod, "Sir, on your say so" he glanced down at all the other jets in the row.

"Ok, let's go," with that the roar of the machines grew louder as one by one they left the hangar and headed for the runway.

Along the strip there were several hangars, and the scene was the same. Hundreds of jets were making their way towards the runway to lift off into the abyss of the sky. It was a beautiful sight, as each jet left the shelter of the floodlit hangar, their chic black finishing allowing them to camouflage into the night sky. The co-pilot flicked a few switches, mumbled things into his mask and guided 001 towards the edge of the runway. Staines glanced down at the ground beneath them and took a quick look towards the other jets lined up. A screen lit up green in the middle of the console, it showed a blueprint of a container with the words loaded written beneath it. That container held the weapon.

The weapon had taken years to formulate, and finally they had found it in the shape of a gas that would deliver a deadly disease. One that was big enough to spread quickly and act fast but not stick around too long after. It's affects reflecting that of a volcanic explosion, intentionally polluting the air. After years of fine-tuning, the dispersal of the gas needed researching and the practicality of sharing it around the world needed to be discussed. It was agreed after the gas had reached its peak, ticking off all the requirements, that it would be dropped from the skies through towns and cities, villages and country lanes covering vast radiuses. It's concentration so potent, that the oxygen in the atmosphere could simply not dilute it yet developed so that it dispersed within twelve hours of release.

The world they inhabited now had become dysfunctional. The mass population crippled economies, causing the unemployment rates to soar. The global warming crisis, that once there had been effort to reverse, had long since lost its momentum and nations had suffered the consequences. The resources and fuels for the world had been used. Sustainability had reached crisis point years before now, the world as they knew it was not sustaining at all. Years of planning had gone into the development of the new regime, important figures and governments in top-secret facilities, worked for months on end to establish the way forward. The governments across the globe banded together to discuss who to keep as assets, who could be of use to the world post-Drop. Among those would be the sickeningly rich, the uber-intelligent and the highly skilled. Perhaps the most important of all, the highly powerful. They called them the Guardians, a new military force who would replace all aspects of law and order. General Steven Staines, a highly decorated US Military and Intelligence services veteran, would lead them. Only one man benefitted from a higher power and his identity remained completely anonymous.

He was known among the men as The Cleaner.

In the early days of discussion amongst the organisations of the world, practicality issues were raised with endless streams of 'what ifs' thrown into the ring. The biggest flaw, just what if the disease didn't kill everyone, what then?

The Cleaner was born, in a former life The Hitman would have been a more suitable title. His job was simple. He was to ensure that those who were supposed to be dead were dead, and those that were supposed to survive, survived. He would be given a list with no timeframe to complete his mission, so long as it was done. It was agreed his identity would remain a mystery as it had done most of his life, as who he was, was of no real importance there were no plans for him beyond the cleansing. Staines understood that The Cleaner was to report into him, but he could not exercise any jurisdiction over him. This made the General uncomfortable, control was always something he had had a problem with, but his very existence depended on his willingness to co-operate, and the power given to him as Head of the Guardians would have to suffice.

Staines was shaken from his trance by Brooks, the co-pilot, causing an abrupt holt to his internal thoughts, he had been weighing up consequences of the role he and his men were about to play. Whilst he himself did not feel or fear moral confliction, he understood some of his men may not feel this way and was thinking of all the ways to disperse whatever storms may come his way.

"Sir, we are almost at our location for The Drop," said Brooks. Staines sat up straighter and readied the hold to release the weapon.

"Very well" he replied engaging the switch and in a fraction of a second, the world had changed forever.