Chapter 16: Intrepid

Knocking on the door, I wait for an answer, muttering to God with my crucifix. The answer from the door indicates its mood; a yes or a come means I may survive the encounter. Anything other, and the noose tightens around my neck. My predecessor, another like me, young and female, told me of this as we thrust ourselves, affixed to the suicidal position like one falls onto their sword. Yet, like me, we do it knowing little about the danger, its foul mood, its strength, and raging anger. But what we never learn, not till too late, is its eternal pain; for it knows no bounds to its torture.

"Enter." The voice boomed, deep and harsh.

The answer was like a drum in the deep, shivers accompanying it as my knees turned feeble and weak. My back was slick with sweat; my palms were greasy and uncouth. Yet, I cannot turn back. Obligated by duty, I must answer his call, no matter the price I must pay.

And thus, I open the grandiose doors into a bright-dark room; decorated with history - 337 years and counting, history unrivalled throughout antiquity and bygone days. Contrary to the... being, residing in this once proud and powerful room; it was warm and friendly, comfort ridding me of nervousness.

The carpet was sewn with our glorious nation's flag. The furniture sat parallel to each other, placed like someone with OCD had done it. Everything was polished and expensive, and my eyes widened at my first personal experience in the famous Oval Office.

Beautiful antique paintings decorated the walls with an amiable, official, vibe radiating from it and welcoming all who enter. But I know; it has not been welcoming for many long years. I shuffled forward; the sun's light darkened as it shone into my eyes, my view set upon a black oak desk with a leather throne behind it. He sat there, staring. His eyes burned a dreadful, beautiful cold vivid purple, placed upon a figure of imposing standard - rumours stating he was eight feet tall.

The shoulders were broad, his muscles steel, his gaze unnatural. An apex predator that stared at all like prey, any facial features hidden behind a forgetting, supernatural mist. No eyes could pierce through it unless it was his own. I could not hold the gaze, the pressure overwhelming me and forcing me to bow my head.

I watched myself walk forward, my feet burdened by righteous fear, the paper in my hands becoming creased and damp. He would not like that, I thought. Anything could anger it, even the way I walk or talk, but I had to keep going. To show weakness was to court death; the Grim Reaper, hiding in my shadow, biding its time.

"Two minutes and thirty-six seconds." It droned, deep and deliberate, "You are slow and indecisive, fearing the unknown, not facing it like the humanity of old. Yet, here you stand on the dawn of my new age." It paused, "Are you unwilling to prostrate... am I unworthy?"

"No, my Lord." I squeaked.

"Then, am I not a being of far more substance and worth than any mortal living on this planet?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"So, then, mortal." He leaned forward, "Why do you not bow?"

A scythe, sharper than any edge before and held by bony fingers, hovered around me; the noose tightened. I flinched as I thought, trying to figure out what to say, something to mollify him. Grasping my religious symbol, I found an answer; my faith.

"I prostrate only for the Holy Trinity." I said with false bravado, "You are a figure to be carved into history, but you are not God. The Lord has not left this world just yet."

The figure paused, straining its neck as if in pain, the eyes closed. I had only heard snippets of the affliction that racks his body, but all I could understand was the agony. He groaned and turned back to me.

"You are bold... I appreciate that. So many today are unlike you, craven and weak; modern-day luxuries spoil them rotten. You are interesting, girl. You defy me as if an angel sits upon your shoulders... but I guess that is what you believe?"

I frowned, "I... I do believe that, Sir. God's creations are always with us, judging us for our sins."

"Sins, hmm? And who judges what is classed as a sin? Who created the book of your religion? Was it God? Jesus? Mohammad? Or another just like you, blindly believing in a false faith?" His fingers tapped the desk, "Are you afraid of death, girl? Or do you truly believe that 'angel' is protecting you?"

My heart thudded in my chest, my hands slightly shaking as my beliefs were mocked.

"I- I need no angel, Sir. My faith will protect my essence; Death does not fear me, for it cannot take me into its hands, to interfere in a higher power's plan. I would happily pass for His Great Plan."

I lay down my beliefs, unwavering and committed to them as I was in the parish. I wish I had not partaken in the applications for the job, yet, I cannot regret it. For if I do, I may just sin.

"You are interesting; so bold and righteous in your beliefs, yet begotten by false prophets and impure humans. And, if they are afflicted with sin, creating you in their 'infinite' wisdom, what does that make you? A sinner. But unlike you, I am perfect. We are perfect. A superior race to take humanity beyond its limitations and ridiculous beliefs... your beliefs."

My frown got deeper, unsure of what the President was saying. Did he think himself a god? Or something different? A better human? A new species? I could not understand what he meant. Why was I being told this?

"I- I don't understand, Sir. My apologies."

He tilted his head, "You don't understand? What don't you understand? That I was reborn? That I am the messiah that this world needs and wants? You say God has not left this planet, I disagree. The savages in the east cry out for a glorious emperor of old. The south needs a civilised hand to rein in the negro barbarians. The north and west look for innovation and change. I... shall be that change!"

I stared at the report, all I had been tasked to deliver, yet those above me were terrified. Now, I started to understand. The leader of our great nation... was a lunatic. He is so popular and, dare I say, charismatic on TV. But, as I discovered in this rant... he is utterly insane.

"Do you understand now? Why you must bow?"

I stood transfixed. What do I say? What do I do? Should I agree? Or, put on a facade and pretend to be against it? This man was erratic, ranting and raving to me, a mere assistant.

"I- I do, my Lord." I uttered, giving in.

His eyes seemed to shrink through the mist. Was that good or bad? I just... could not know. How do you deal with an insane asylum patient? You do not; not unless you are in that profession. And I was certainly not.

He hummed, leaning forward, "You gave in too quickly. Is that all your beliefs... your principles, are worth? This is why religion is a disease; you all prance around like utter fools. But when you are deeply questioned, you collapse."

"Of course not!" I panicked, "I... you just persuaded me of your magnificence, Sir. I understand. You are responsible for Void Solutions and the colonization of planets. The cure for cancer and dementia; the Great Unification of America. You are unrivalled throughout US history, no, world history!"

"Is that so?" He sighed, "I don't like sycophants. But I can tell you still hold firm to those beliefs of yours. I see it in your eyes; you just fear me, despite all your talk. It was your great fortune to have chosen this position, and to have such firm beliefs, even if misguided. I will help... correct those."

I flinched again, my eyes wide as I took a step back. What did it mean? Is it going to torture me? Rape me?

"W- Wait... I don't understand." I stuttered, "W- What do you mean? P- Please don't hurt me; I- I'm just naive."

"No, no, no, girl. I'm going to change you for the better. You shall be reborn, made anew as a perfect being, to lead humanity in this great Dark Age. All you need to do is trust me. You do trust me, right?"

I took another step back as he got out of his chair, his figure towering over me like a looming cliff. My lip constantly quivered, my body shook and sweat poured in buckets. I was going to die, I repeated to myself, over and over again.

"Do not fear it, child. All shall be well shortly. But sometimes, for great change, there must be great pain. But once reborn, you shall be released from the shackles of mortality. You shall live a goddess amongst men. All you need to do is hold onto that faith."

He appeared before me like a ghost, my instincts screaming as I leapt backwards, spooked. But he followed me faster than I could see, the wind washing over me in waves. I needed to get away! But... I could not. I watched him turn into something... inhuman. The skin rippled beneath his tight suit; visible veins appeared, but they were purple, like his eyes. I finally realised, he was not a monster. He was a different species. Then, my vision went dark.

"I await your rebirth, girl." He spoke to himself, "That is... if you survive the Rites."

***

"Step this way; you need to be documented." The man spoke, "Any questions, I will answer when we have concrete plans and information."

"Can I at least know where we are?" Mark asked.

The man in a black suit looked at him and frowned, still continuing to walk.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" He uttered with a clear undertone of dislike, "Ugh, Watford Military Base. Now be quiet."

Mark was silenced, his head pushed back in shock. He only wanted clarification, and whilst he got it, the man did not need to be so rude. Aptly naming the man Asshole in his head, he followed with constant noises, silence unable to reach his ears.

He could hear things many rooms away, the noise of soldiers eating and chatting. He could hear the clang of plates, servers providing food and even every bite as they munched away. To say it was unpleasant would be an understatement. Even the door guards were unsafe from his hearing; their conversation started to play out.

"Any idea on the kid? Seemed like a stray. Wonder what they're gonna do with 'im?" One spoke, vaguely sensing it was the left.

There was a rustle, a shrug, "Could be fuckin anyone. Suit was one of them intelligence operatives, Servitors or sommet. Maybe an MP's brat, here to fix a bruise or whatever shit they panic over."

The left hummed, "Not the first; I doubt it'll be the last of 'em."

They reached the reception seconds later; his sight was greeted by the receptionist. She was good-looking, without makeup and her hair in a professional bun.

"Hello there." She smiled, "What can I-"

The suited man sighed, "He's staying here for a while." He shoved a symbol to her, a red metal crown, "No questions, do as your told. Send an email to J-, Commander Mackay. She is needed at the southern wing in twenty."

Her eyes widened at the insignia, "Ah! Yes, Sir! Will do, Sir! A... pass will be sent to the already booked room shortly."

Not deigning to answer, Mark abruptly followed the man somewhat sheepishly. He felt slightly nervous, Asshole giving off hostile vibes, but as they walked, he gained courage.

"Was there... a reason to speak to her like that? Did she do something wrong?" He questioned.

'Or... are you just a cunt?' Mark thought.

He turned his head towards Mark, eyes piercing through the shades. His nose was crinkled as his lip pointed before huffing.

"Have you bled for this nation, kid? Lost brothers and sisters?" He spat, "The answer is no. I have watched mistakes cost lives. Those people... sit behind desks like politicians in ivory towers. They command respect from me. They know nothing."

"They... don't know what?"

"They don't know war. They don't know the horrors, the fear, the heartbreak and the pain. People like her have never known war and never will. Yet, they call themselves soldiers. Same as you. Spoiled brats that piss around, unaware and uncaring of those who die to protect you. Civvies are all the same."

'That sounds like a deep-seated issue.'

Believing it best not to get on the man's bad side anymore, his tone making him unwilling to dissuade him from being a 'spoiled brat', he followed. He could understand on some preliminary level, but this attitude was more flawed than those the man despised. Nevertheless, a minute later, they reached the bland bunk Mark would call his new home.