M.A.I.D.S. [season 2]

Episode 4: Betrayal

M.A.I.D.S. [season 2] Episode 4 - Betrayal

Adam struggled in his seat, but it was no use. Gleaming metal restraints pinned his arms and legs, and there was even one broad band across his chest. Adam strained against the metal, but after a few moments he gave up. The captive decided it was better to save his energy for something else, though what, he wasn't sure. Gunfire rang out in the CROW facility, accompanied by shouts that were soon snuffed out. A fight, Adam thought. He worried about his friends, and especially about Pandora. No, he thought with a smile, I should be worried about anyone foolish enough to fight Pandora. The last thing Adam heard before the commotion died down was the shattering of glass. He didn't have long to think about the events he'd heard, however, for a CROW agent entered the room and sat down across the desk from him.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns at long last!" the agent said coolly.

"Yeah, well, you're in better company than I am right now," Adam retorted. He looked up at the agent and it was as if the wind was knocked from him. This CROW wasn't a typical field agent--he was too handsome, too wiry. His blond ponytail was tidy, his suit was immaculate, and his demeanor was entirely too calm. This was one of CROW's special agents...and beyond that, the agent bore the countenance of someone Adam knew.

"Old Man," Adam said.

"Surprised?" was Coleman's snarky reply. The agent was a member of FIST 8, the squad that Adam had lead with distinction on many vital missions. That was all before FIST turned on Adam and went after Pandora. Adam and Old Man had worked together for years, and the former had never suspected him of being a double-agent.

"No, just disappointed," Adam replied. "So what, FIST 8 wasn't enough? You've been cheating on us with CROW all along?"

"You sound wounded, Adam," Coleman replied. He brought his hands up from beneath the table and brandished a long, beautiful dagger. Though it looked like the weapons of old, Adam knew it was crafted of the finest laser-sharpened steel that modern technology could produce. Just a touch would bite deep; a slash would take off a limb. Coleman held the dagger as if his hands were empty, the double-edged weapon moving fluidly as an extension of his body as he spoke. Adam might have found the display mesmerizing under other circumstances. As things were, though, Coleman's intimidation tactic worked. Adam did his best not to let it show.

"So this is the part where you wave that thing around and threaten me," Adam said with as much bravado as he could muster. He leaned forward in his chair just as far as the restraints would allow. "You're hoping I'll give in and tell you everything in the vain hope that you'll spare my pretty face, is that right?"

"No, Adam. I mean, sure, if it was anybody else but you, that might work. But I know you, Adam. I've known you for years. The shining star of FIST 8," Coleman said, spreading his arms to the heavens, "the proof that humanity will go on. You are the Global Government's monument to the arrogance of mankind. A testament to the omnipotence of science. You are the 'damned treaty that ended World War III,' to borrow your words. You aren't intimidated by this."

"Then why draw?" Adam asked. Old Man's grin broadened.

"I just like the way it feels in my hand, you know?" he replied, his voice as edged as his weapon. "It's heavy, but not too heavy. It's a well-balanced weapon, sharp enough to shave with, clean enough to dice tomatoes, and shiny enough to check my hair in. Holding it is like...like holding an ice-cold beer, the face of a lover, or a lucrative contract. Would you like to hold it?"

Adam didn't respond. Old Man let the silence sit between them. Not restricted by metal bands, he was able to lean forward. His voice dropped when he addressed Adam again.

"That's what you were supposed to be, Adam. That's what the Global Government wanted from you--a well-balanced weapon, sharp, clean, and shiny. You're a natural leader, so of course they put you in charge of FIST 8. You were trained to be sharp enough to handle high-profile, clandestine missions. You were clean enough to put on global vid-casts as the Government's poster child. And you were the shiny distraction that the G.G. needed to distract the masses.

"You just had to go and fuck it all up, didn't you?" Coleman said the last with a hiss, leaning across the table so that Adam could see his reflection in Old Man's dark sunglasses.

"I'm not sure I follow," Adam said. He smirked to hide his confusion. Coleman wasn't fooled.

"Don't play the hero with me, kid," Coleman said. He placed the dagger on the table in front of him and leaned back casually as he spoke. "Wilner tried to fix this. He had your best interests at heart, you know. The man loves you, Adam, that's as plain as the day is long. He cares about you and he wanted to protect your legacy."

"My legacy?" Adam replied. "He sure has a funny way of showing that he cares. You know, what with the betrayal and ordering Sotiria to shoot me and all."

"Wilner was protecting your legacy. You would have died a hero, gunned down by rogue CROW mercs. FIST 8 would have rallied and taken out CROW altogether and discovered that they were in bed with the terrorists here in India. FIST would have continued to follow the lead until the terrorists were rooted out and brought to justice. Fuck, man, they would have named a global holiday in your honor! All you had to do was die."

"Sorry I couldn't oblige you," Adam replied while he studied Coleman. The man that Adam thought he knew was completely calm and, unfortunately, in control of the situation. Adam's eyes scanned the room but found nothing of use. The room was bare, the table and chairs were bolted to the floor, and Coleman's dagger was the only weapon in the room. One wall and the ceiling were mirrored, and Adam suspected he was under surveillance from both directions. He was trapped.

Coleman grinned. "I can tell by the look in your eyes that the gravity of your situation is setting in, Adam. You're stuck here and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. I own you until I get what I want, and that's that."

"What is it that you'll be wanting, then?"

"We can discuss that later, old friend," Coleman said. A panel in the wall opened behind him. The man got up and straightened his tie, then walked over to remove what appeared to be a motorcycle helmet. He lifted it with both hands and stared into its mirrored visor for a moment, then walked it over to Adam. Adam thought he saw a flicker of sadness play across Coleman's face, but it was gone just as quickly.

"This is...?"

"This," Coleman said with his usual gusto, "is a CROW sim-helm. It's a virtual reality training device--I know you are familiar with those--but this one has been has been repurposed. In today's global economy our colleagues are increasingly multi-platform, so it's important that we incentivize accordingly."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Adam eyed the sim-helm with trepidation. It was a glossy graphite-colored helmet with a thick mirrored visor. The only marking on it was a tiny screen just above the visor, centered in the "forehead" of the sim-helm. At the moment the screen was a retro-green color displaying a single line of digital text.

C:\USER\CROW\ADAM

"It's going to run a little 'welcome' program for you, Adam," Coleman said as he placed the sim-helm on Adam's head. "Today is your first day at CROW. After your orientation there will be some new hire paperwork to fill out, I'll show you to your office, the break room, Human Resources, then we can tour of the facilities...oh, and lunch will be provided in the facility's cafeteria. I will be back to check on you in a little while."

"No!" Adam shouted, but he heard the door shut. He was alone. A hum filled his ears as the sim-helm booted up the orientation program. That's when the pain began.