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20:04 Tuesday 17 December 2069
Marcus was a man of habit, albeit a very well-protected man of habit. Every Tuesday night he would go to the same discreet Italian restaurant, for his evening meal. The restaurant was discreet but Marcus was not. He felt no need to be; his army of Defenders was feared throughout the country. The world had seen what they had done in October when they had massacred swathes of young children. The world was still in shock, waiting for a military response from One Life that, as yet, had not occurred. They had expected an almost immediate response, the crime against humanity being so heinous, and were starting to become disillusioned, wondering how this monster that now seemed to control their lives could be stopped.
But a continual cycle of attack, respond, attack, respond merely creates a vicious circle where nobody wins and nothing is resolved. Of course, diplomacy should be the preferred option but sometimes direct action of a different type is required. Even killing Marcus wouldn’t solve the problem. He would simply return a couple of decades later and attempt to regain control of the Order again. Killing him and allowing his soul to be reborn in the same way as it had always been would simply be putting a Band-Aid on a gaping wound and expecting it to heal.
The Businessman had a much more permanent solution in mind. To this end, a small unit of elite rebels was sent to capture the Pindar and bring him back to One Life HQ. Everybody understood that this was potentially a suicide mission as Marcus was not so foolish as to not have a heavily armed bodyguard with him, made up of the feared Defenders, but they were happy to be part of the plan to bring him down.
So, at 8 pm on Tuesday 17th December, a phalanx of sixteen One Life rebels approached the restaurant, moving slowly so as not to break the formation. The ten Defender guards watching a one hundred metre radius had no idea that they were even there, as each member of the perimeter of the formation had a portable VACS camouflage device clipped to their utility belt, creating a cloak of invisibility that engulfed the whole group.
The rebels kept their shape until they reached the double-door of the restaurant when they had no choice but to break formation, since there was no way that they could pass through the door otherwise. Marcus was just about to bite into a slice of garlic bread when he was suddenly faced with a group of rebels, all wearing Pulse Resistant body armour. He wasn’t unduly worried. Three pulse pistols were aimed at him, whilst thirteen others were pointed at his Defender bodyguards, who in turn had their pulse rifles trained on the intruders. Neither side had any interest in starting a bloodbath; the rebels didn’t want to risk Marcus escaping or even being killed (they knew the probable consequences of the latter) and the Defenders didn’t want to start something that could result in the death of their leader. Marcus wiped a few crumbs away from his mouth with an embroidered napkin.
“I would say that we have a rather delightful Mexican stand-off, wouldn’t you Caitlin?”
“I’m Philippa, not Caitlin.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry to confuse you with my other whore. You look just like her, being a clone. Well, I suppose you would really, wouldn’t you?”
Caitlin moved to the front of the group, to stand alongside Philippa.
“Marcus. You’re coming with us.”
“Oh look. Twins. Aren’t they a pretty pair? Now that would make an enchanting threesome, don’t you think? I’d like to be the meat in a Philippa and Caitlin sandwich.”
Marcus didn’t seem to understand the danger that he was in, or perhaps he was just supremely confident that his bodyguards could deal with the situation.
Caitlin strode over to where Marcus was sitting. He took a sip from the glass of Sauvignon Blanc that he had chosen to accompany his Lemon Ricotta Risotto with asparagus, peas, and Prosciutto. He refilled the glass and offered it to Caitlin
“Would you like some wine, Caitlin? See, I got it right that time. It’s rather delicious and goes really well with this particular meal.”
The twelve Defenders and rebels still watched each other, weapons at the ready but understanding the consequences of a fire-fight at such close quarters. Michelle watched Caitlin and Philippa, hoping that neither of them – especially Caitlin – would lose their cool and jeopardise the outcome of this stand-off. Caitlin took the glass from Marcus and slowly and deliberately poured it over his head.
“Now, that wasn’t very friendly was it, Caitlin? And a waste of a good wine too.”
“I’m not here to be friendly, you bastard. I’m here to see you never hurt anyone again.”
“And how, pray, do you intend to do that? You do understand that if you kill me, I’ll simply be reincarnated, memories intact. I’ll haunt your thoughts whilst you’re waiting for my return. You’ll never be at peace with yourself. You’ll never be able to relax. And then one day. Behold! They’re I’ll be. A wonderful combination of your worst memories and your worst nightmare.”
Caitlin raised her pistol and pointed it straight at Marcus’s forehead. Michelle looked at Philippa, worried at what her little sister might do. Marcus was losing some of his confidence and bluster. He had no plans to shuffle off this particular mortal coil just yet. He still had plans and things to do.
“Okay. You had your fun young lady. Guards. Cut them down. Caitlin first, of course.”
Nobody made a move. Marcus furrowed his brow. These Defenders were hand-picked. They were the elite of the elite. They had sworn an oath to the Illuminati, an oath to protect the Pindar and The Order, even to the point of sacrificing their own lives. Marcus repeated his order.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Shall I spell it out for you? Kill Caitlin, that’s K-I-L-L Caitlin and then the rest of these rebels.”
The leader of Marcus’s unit of Defender bodyguards removed his gas mask and helmet. He didn’t look so threatening now, with his face revealed.
“Caitlin, my name is Major Daniel Driver. Danny. I know you want to kill this man now. I don’t know why but that’s none of my business. I don’t need to know why. We’ve all got a good reason to want this man dead. Some are better reasons than others. I’m sure. But you do understand that he’s a Recarn don’t you? He’ll just come back and try to pick up where he left off.”
“Do you think I’m going to let you take him back with you? You can negotiate for his life all you want, but he’s not leaving here with you.”
“We have no intention of taking him anywhere, Caitlin.”
He looked over at the rest of his unit and they too removed their helmets and gas masks, lowering their weapons and resetting them to the ‘off’ position. Michelle lowered her pulse pistol and nodded to her colleagues to do the same. Marcus, Caitlin’s gun still pointing squarely at the middle of his forehead, felt nervous for the first time in this life.
“Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on? Why am I not on my way back to HQ having been rescued by my trusty bodyguards?”
Danny stood alongside Caitlin and stared straight into Marcus’s eyes.
“Did you really think that you could get away with massacring thousands of young children? Do you not understand that many of us have families? We felt – we still feel –the grief of those mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters. We’re not machines. You may stick us in these uniforms and make us look menacing, like heavily armed robots, but inside these uniforms, inside these bodies, we’re human. We’re human. We have hearts. We have feelings. Sure there are Defenders who you were able to buy. A lot of them. But there are a lot of us too. Family men, who can imagine how it would feel to lose our children. Hell, you did kill some of our children. Well, fuck you, Mr All-fucking-mighty Pindar. Fuck you. One Life can have you, with our blessing.”
Marcus began clutching at straws, ignoring the truth of the situation he now found himself in.
“Beautiful speech, Major. A truly stirring speech. But aren’t you forgetting about the perimeter guards? You’ll never get past them alive.”
A voice called out from the back of the room.
“I think he means us.”
A group of ten more Defenders had slipped in unnoticed. Each had their guns lowered and heads uncovered. The Defender who had spoken continued.
“I’m Corporal Ricardo Dante. You don’t have to worry about us. We’re with my mate Danny.”
For the first time, at least in this life, Marcus was feeling a sensation that was foreign to him. For the first time, he didn’t feel in control of the situation he was in. He was top dog. He was the big cheese. Except that now, surrounded by thirty-eight hostile people, twenty-two of whom he would have previously trusted with his life, he was anything but. He felt vulnerable and he didn’t like the feeling. He looked at Caitlin who was still pointing her gun at him, the nozzle aiming directly between his eyes.
“Go on then. Shoot me. You know you want to.”
This wasn’t an act of bravado on his part. He simply didn’t know what else to say. Caitlin kept looking at him, expressionless.
“I said kill me, you bitch. Kill the best fuck you’ve ever had.”
Still, Caitlin stared at him, her eyes betraying no emotion.
Marcus shouted at her as loud as he could, with such force that spittle flew out of his mouth, spraying her face with droplets of saliva.
“Kill me now, you whore.”
Caitlin tilted her head as though she were considering the merits and disadvantages of killing him. She took a napkin from Marcus’s table and wiped her face clean.
“No. Not today. We’ve got something much more interesting lined up for you.”
Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been so easy for Caitlin to have fried Marcus’s brain. She could have understood it if her sister had done so. But Caitlin had resisted the temptation. Michelle was proud of her.
Danny looked around the room at the rebels.
“Who’s actually in charge of you lot?”
Michelle stepped forward and held her hand out.
“Michelle Boone. Glad you turned out to be on our side.”
“No worries Michelle. Some of us are Recarns, but none of us could go along with the things that Marcus has been doing. There are limits. Plus, a lot of us are fed up with having these damned past life memories. If you’re a decent person, you have no need for past life knowledge. It’s too easy to use it for bad, like he and his cronies do. Can you use us in the struggle?”
“Of course. But there are provisos. You’ll have to hand over your weapons and be blindfolded while we take you to our base. Then we’ll have to scan your brains to make sure that you’re telling the truth and that this isn’t part of some complex scam to undermine us.”
“No problem.”
“Do you have families?”
“Most of us.”
“We’ll have to extract them too. Just because we have Marcus doesn’t mean that the Illuminati will collapse.”
“Sure.”
A light flashed on Michelle’s wristwatch.
“The choppers are here.”
The group of rebels, their new allies, and their captive walked towards the village green, Marcus surrounded by the rebels, once again rendered invisible. The Defenders had no need to hide. Although not welcome in the village, the villagers had become accustomed to their presence every week and reluctantly accepted them as part of the Tuesday evening landscape.
Marcus felt a little relieved when he could see no helicopters on the green.
“Your friends running late are they, Michelle?”
“They’re here.”
“Bullshit. I can’t see them.”
“You will.”
Then, as if the group had stepped through an interdimensional portal, three large transport helicopters rippled into view. The Defenders and Marcus couldn’t fail to be impressed. They didn’t have this cloaking technology. Michelle explained that the Defenders would be taken directly to One Life HQ where they would be debriefed and their intentions verified. Marcus would be going with the rebels in the first helicopter. Michelle emphasised the importance of keeping their prisoner alive.
“Don’t forget to secure the prisoner tightly. Secure him, and then double check his bindings. And keep him away from the doors. I don’t want even the slightest risk of him falling or jumping out.”
The helicopters took off, the thud-thud-thud of the rotor blades very noticeable to the occupants, now that they themselves were within the scope of the VACS system. Old Mrs Grisholm, the ever vigilant paragon of the village neighbourhood watch, concluded that she had had one too many an evening sherry as she watched the Defenders simply disappear from view, and vowed to reduce her nightly alcohol consumption to just the one glass per night.