Let Slip the Dogs of War
Chapter 5: Revelations
By Chris Ward
1994; Unknown Location
It has been a week since they dropped him off in this heavily wooded area. According to
Bob, it was for purposes of Survival Training. Though unsure of the cause, Havoc
experiences a sense of déjà vu. He’s certain he has been in a situation similar to this
before, although he cannot remember when or where.
He is hunting when he catches the scent. Stopping in his tracks, he concentrates until he
recognizes the intruder. With a feral grin he sprints deeper into the trees. Using the scent
as a guide, he takes a running leap into the lower branches. In much the fashion of an ape
he runs, swings, and jumps through the limbs from tree to tree.
Sighting his target, he silently slides his knife from its sheath at his waist and leaps
through the air, performing a twisting dive that lands him just behind the target. Wrapping
his arm around its neck, he lays the blade against its throat. Only then does he realize he’s
been duped. Swearing under his breath, he throws the mannequin to the ground, and
begins to cast about for the origin of the scent that brought him here.
At that moment, he feels the barrel of a pistol press against the back of his head as a dry,
almost clinical, voice says, “Tag; you’re dead.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Agent Hart’s pained shriek tore through the room as Elle fired another low-powered blast
into one of the small tubs of water below her. Firing one final blast into the water, she
watched in pleasure as the charge flew up the chain and into the nipple-clamps. After yet
another throat-tearing scream, she dangled from her bonds, panting.
Leaning against the wall, I nodded at Elle to stop. Lying slightly, I said, “I don’t actually
enjoy doing that, Hart.” Pushing away from the wall, I walked over to where she lay, greedily
gasping air. “Unfortunately, you didn’t leave me very little choice. We know you and Claus
met privately. I suspect there were… several… such meetings. All we need, right now, is
confirmation.”
Raising her head, she glared at me. “Fuck off.”
Smiling sadly, I bent down to look her in the eyes. Dropping the forced civility, I snarled,
“This is gonna hurt, Hart. I’d hoped what you had just gone through would be enough to
persuade you to cooperate. Have you been wondering about that odd feeling between your
legs? We have a metal band on your magic button, and a nice metal plug in your fuck box.
Both are linked to one of the tubs below you.” Slipping back, I glanced at Elle. “Three more;
low-powered.”
With a vicious grin, she took aim and fired. The agonized howls that followed hurt my
ears. Finally she slumped against her restraints, sobbing with pain. “Now, did those
meetings occur?”
Without even lifting her head, she whimpered, “Yes.”
“Excellent. We’re going to have a little chat with Coleman down the hall, so you’ll have a
little time alone. When we get back, we’ll want to know everything that happened, and
everything you talked about, during those meetings. We’ve already proven that you can’t
lie to me, so you may want to think about your answers a little while we’re gone.”
***********
1994; Unknown Location
Dropping his hands in disgust, Havoc puts the knife away. Turning around slowly, he
faces the man with the gun. “Hello, Mr. Bennet.”
Replacing the pistol in his shoulder holster, Bennet takes a minute to adjust his gilly suit.
Looking back at his trainee, he asks, “Where’d you fuck up?”
Thinking about it for a minute, Havoc grunts in irritation. “I was too quick. I caught your
scent and tracked you here. As soon as I thought I saw you, I attacked.”
“Exactly. Impatience is your greatest weakness, Michael, and it will get you killed. If you’d
taken just another 10 or 15 seconds, you’d have realized something wasn’t right with the
setup, and you’d have been able to beat me. You need to learn subtlety and precision, and
for that you need patience.”
Letting Havoc carry the dummy, Bennet leads him away. “Your ability makes you stronger
and more agile than nearly anyone. That means you’re also faster. That speed translates
into time; you have more time than others would to assess a situation. When combined with
your enhanced senses, this gives you the potential of becoming one of the most
dangerous men on the planet. Your main problem is your tendency to take a brute force
approach to everything.”
“Works, doesn’t it?”
Spinning on Havoc, Bennet glares directly up into his eyes. “Twenty-five percent of the
time, possibly a little more, yes. The majority of situations you’ll find yourself in with this
Organization will call for something else. Any brute can jump in and tear things up, and wind
up dead. I’m trying to train you to be more dangerous than that.” Turning around, he leads
his trainee up the nearby hill.
“Where are we going?”
“Back to school.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Unlike Hart, Coleman tried not to scream. All he allowed to escape were occasional
agonized whimpers as I used the whip to open his back. After a while, when his back was
bleeding profusely, I nodded at Elle and put the whip away. Smoothing her blouse and short
skirt with one hand, she walked over to him and caressed his cheek with the other. Adding
an oddly girlish quality to her voice, she asked, “Why don’t you just tell us what you and
that man talked about? Then maybe the two of us can go someplace and make this an
unpleasant memory.”
“Go to hell!”
Shrugging, she went back to her chair while I picked up the next tool. Taking the
weighted end of the long rope loosely in my right hand, I carefully measured the distance.
“I love this toy, Greg; I really do. See, it presents me with so many options. For instance, I
can do this.” Launching the weight, I slammed it into his kidney.
Biting back the shout of pain that threatened to escape, he began panting heavily, trying
to overcome it. While he was doing so, I began spinning the rope in lazily expanding
circles. “I also get to do this.” Altering the speed and angle slightly, I slammed the weight
into his crotch. That brought out an agonized scream, which tore through the room. After
repeating the action twice more, I set the rope aside and waved at Elle.
Smiling, she waited for his screams to die down. Once they had faded to ragged gasps,
she sauntered over. “This is just going to get worse. Why don’t you tell me what I want to
know? Didn’t Bernhelm try to turn you against the Organization?”
Sagging in defeat, he nodded. “Yes.”
With a grin that seemed to light the room, she kissed his cheek. “See, that wasn’t so
hard. Now, we’re gonna leave you alone to think about the answer to this next question.
What did he ask you to do?” When he took a breath, she pressed a finger against his lips.
“Just hold that thought.”
***********
1994; Unknown
“Again.”
Havoc comes to a stop in front of his trainer. “Why? That was the fastest I’ve ever run
the damn thing!”
Holding the clipboard loosely in his hands, Mr. Bennet stands from his observation chair.
I know.” Directing a flat stare at his student, he fills his tone with ice. “It was also the
sloppiest one you’ve ever done. You worried so much about running it fast, you weren’t
concerned with running it clean. Now, do it again.”
Swearing under his breath, Havoc jogs to the beginning of the course. At the signal, he
sprints the twenty yards to the first wall. Halfway through the sprint he leaps into a forward
roll, picking up the grappling gun as he launches over it. Rolling to his feet, he aims slightly
above the wall and releases the grapple even as he finishes the sprint.
As soon as he feels the grapple settle into place, he leaps and begins climbing, bracing
his feet against it as he does. At the top of the wall, he picks the grapple up and, with
unerring aim, flips it the short distance through a small, fixed ring. Launching out from the
wall, he releases the rope at the end of his swing. Using that momentum, he flips into a
dive, slicing into the surface of the water more than forty feet below. At the end of an
Olympic sized pool stands a climbing wall, which Havoc climbs like a spider-monkey.
The top of the wall leads to a series of rings, which work their way up a slight incline. At
the end of the rings, he finds himself facing a series of metal bars. If they were closer
together it would resemble an inclined ladder, but each rung requires a carefully gauged
leap to reach. Scaling the rungs, he finds himself facing a several yard drop into an
elaborate jungle-gym which requires extreme acrobatics to safely traverse through to the
floor below.
Rotating around the lowest bar, he releases into a drop kick into the first of three target-
dummy’s head. Flexing his knees at the last second, he uses the force of the kick to propel
himself in a back flip, ripping the knife from its grasp and the gun from its waist as he twists
himself around. Landing in a crouch, he flips the knife into the air. Even as the blade is
flickering through the air, he drills the second target through the bulls-eye between its
eyes. Reaching up with the unarmed hand, he grasps the knife by the blade as he begins a
forward roll. Coming out of the roll, he adds the momentum of the roll to an overhand
throw, burying the knife to the hilt in the final mannequin’s chest-target, even as he aims
the pistol back along the path he had just come, blasting the first target in its eye.
Dropping the pistol to the floor, he looks over to where his instructor is seated. Taking a
few last notes, Bennet closes the folder. “Good work. Much better this time. Not only quick,
but clean. The clean up on the targets was nearly perfect. The entire run showed much
more polish; even a little artistry, which means you’re starting to let your personality
through instead of just going through the motions.” Opening a door, he waves Havoc
through. “Let’s grab a bite to eat, and then we’ve got a little dodge-ball set up for you.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
When her ragged screams died into pained sobs, I grabbed Hart by her chin and jerked
her face up to look at me. “Listen to me, bitch. Everything we’ve done to you up to this
point may have been extremely painful, but we’ve yet to actually hurt you. If you don’t start
talking, and telling us the fucking truth, I start having Elle fry your ass. Now talk.”
In her scream-hoarsened and torn voice, she gasped, “I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Bull shit, Hart. You told us that the two of you fucked each other’s brains out. That was
only partly true. Although I know that was involved, he recruited you for more than your
round heels and spread legs.”
When she clamped her mouth shut, I stepped back. Looking at Elle, I nodded. “Fry her
tits. Maybe that’s give her something to think about.”
With an evil grin, Elle raised a hand. “Second or third?”
“Start with second.” Tipping my chair against the wall, I closed my eyes and waited for the
new round of agonized screams to subside. When they finally did, I cracked my eyes to look
at her. “You see how it is, I hope? You will talk eventually. Elle and I have done this kind of
thing quite a bit, actually, and they always talk.”
Standing up, I ran my hand up her back before tracing her cheek with my fingertips.
Following the curve of her neck, I slid my fingers down her breast before deliberately
scraping my nails along the burn marks radiating from the clamps, eliciting a pained moan.
“To be honest about it, we’ve had a few actually beg us to kill them. We did as they
requested,” deliberately pinching the burned nipple, I listened as she screamed,
“eventually. Only, however, after they told us what they wanted.” Releasing the offended
breast, I yanked her head up by her hair. Holding her face inches from my own, I dropped
the pleasant tone. “We don’t have to be that careful with you. If we push it too far and kill
you, we just wait a few minutes and start again. We have nowhere to be, and all the time to
get there. Last fucking chance; talk!”
“Go fuck yourself!”
Grunting, I drove my knife into her chest, neatly slicing through her heart. Cleaning the
blade in her hair, I put it away and turned around. Taking the case from my pocket, I pullet
out a syringe and a blue vial. “When she comes back, give her another injection. Wait about
5 minutes, and then you can play with her.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Just down the hall. I want to have a chat with Coleman. I’ll get his information, come hell
or high fucking water, then I’ll come back. I want her begging me to let her talk.”
Elle’s eyes lit up. “So, when you say I get to play with her…?”
Walking to the wall, I dumped the bag on the table. “Do what you want with her, and enjoy
it as much as you want. First, second, third, hell, even fourth degree burns. If you get bored
frying her beautiful ass, use some of this shit. If she dies on you, give her another dose
when she comes back.” Shoving the barbed whip aside, I pulled out a gag and threw it to
her. “So you don’t have to listen to her if you don’t want to.”
***********
1994; Unknown
What Mr. Bennet was referring to with the term dodge-ball is a gauntlet. It’s an obstacle
course designed specifically with Havoc in mind. It requires him to use his speed, strength
and agility to their utmost, but in combination with his enhanced senses of sight, smell and
hearing. Hidden throughout the course are anywhere from one to a couple dozen
Organization sharpshooters. That number changes with each run, and they are never in the
same places twice. They are given non-lethal projectile weapons, and their job is to hit
Havoc as he works his way through the course.
He performs the third and fourth runs flawlessly, dodging the weapon’s fire that came
near him. After finishing the final run, he looks at Bennet, who flashes him a rare smile.
“Excellent job. It’s time for dinner.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Agent Coleman’s screams of excruciating pain, even muffled behind a gag, filled the
small room. Putting the pliers back on the small table, I waited for them to subside into
agonized sobs before removing the gag. Looking at his tear-streaked face, I filled my voice
with contempt. “You still have one nut left. If I don’t start getting answers, that one goes
too.”
After several minutes, he gasped, “I’ve already answered your damn questions.”
“And the answers that weren’t outright lies were half-fucking-truths! Start talking.”
I had been in the room with him for several hours. The whip had shredded his back. His
face, chest, legs and arms looked like a jigsaw puzzle from the tortures they had suffered.
Both feet and one hand had been shattered from the beatings. The other hand was
completely gone, as was one eye and an ear. Each new torture had provided a mix of truths
and lies. What he had not counted on was the way I could use my abilities to determine the
truth. After a succession of total lies I had decided to step things up and grabbed the pliers.
Taking up the pliers again, I tapped his remaining testicle gently with them. Drawing a
frightened gasp, he tried to shrink away. “I’ll talk, damn it!”
Sitting back against the wall, I took notes while he answered every question I asked.
After a couple hours, when I was absolutely certain he had no more information to give me,
I stood and put the notebook away. Walking up behind him, I grabbed his hair and yanked
his head back and to the side. Pressing my knife against his throat, I pressed my mouth to
his remaining ear. “You didn’t really think I’d let you live, did you?”
Cleaning the blade, I headed down the hall to Hart’s interrogation room, making a brief
stop before entering. Opening the door, I was nearly overwhelmed by the combined smell
of badly burned, torn, beaten and cut flesh and the distinct aroma left by death. As I
entered Elle released another powerful burst into the tub that would carry the current to
the vaginal plug.
Closing the door, I waited for the muffled shrieks of agony to die. Once they had become
tearing gasps, I caught Elle’s attention. Tossing her one of the beers I had picked up, I
glanced at he victim. “How many times did she die?”
Taking a long pull from the can, she almost purred in satisfaction. “Dunno. Maybe three.”
Taking a quick drink of my own beer, I ran a practiced eye over her badly beaten, burned
and broken, bloody body. Putting down my beer, I pulled off the gag. “Talk to me, bitch.”
In a voice barely above a hoarse whisper, she explained her role in Bernhelm’s
insurrection. Over the next hour, she gave every detail she knew. When I was certain we
had gotten everything from her that she knew, I walked up behind her and shoved my knife
through the base of her skull and into her brain. After cleaning the blade and putting it
away, I tore the clamps and plug from her body and dumped them in the water. Putting the
syringe and half-empty vial into the case and back in my pocket, we went to Bennet’s office.
Hanging up his phone, he leaned back in his chair. “How’s the interrogation going?”
Grunting, I relaxed into my chair and closed my eyes. “Done. They’ve given us everything
they know.”
“And the agents?”
“Coleman’s dead.” Opening my eyes, I glanced at my watch. “Shit. It’s past 6? Damn.
Listen, the two of us are gonna grab something to eat, then we’ll clean up down there.”
“All right. What do you need from me?”
Thinking quickly, I scratched my shoulder. “A couple things, actually. I need a secure
conference room so I can tell them what we learned, and get my marching orders.” That
was a lie, but a necessary one. Once they give me a mission, they leave me alone to
accomplish it. The truth was I needed to talk to Bob and Linderman about what I had
discovered and put in an interview request; and Noah wasn’t on the need-to-know list
regarding Linderman’s role and position in the Organization.
“I’ll also need access to Agent Hart’s Omega Protocols.” Part of the testing every Special
was put though upon collection was to discover what could either kill or incapacitate them.
That information was placed in a secret file known only to those in Supervisory positions,
as well as those few in my position. Called the Omega Protocols, they took a personalized
code to access.
“I’ll have her protocol emailed to you. When you get back from dinner, the conference
room will be ready.” Taking off his glasses, he cleaned them thoughtfully while keeping his
cold stare on me. “Anything else you can tell me?”
Standing up, I shook my head. “Sorry, Noah, you know the rules. All I can say is this is
bigger and messier than anyone realized.”
***********
1994; Unknown Location
“Your abilities make you stronger, more agile, and less susceptible to injury than most.
What you need to learn now is what to do when that advantage is lost; either through
someone blocking your abilities or because you encounter someone whose abilities in
those areas are greater.” Mr. Bennet steps into the room, followed by the Haitian and a
massive man built like an Adonis.
Sitting in one of the chairs by the wall, Bennet glances down at the clipboard he always
carries. “Since, at the moment anyway, we do not have access to a Special who outstrips
your abilities, we have to do this the other way. My friend here will block your abilities while
Pritchard trains you in close combat.”
Kris Pritchard was the most dangerous Normal in the Company. A Weapons Master, he
was also an expert in several different martial arts. With a frame stretching just past seven
feet of pure muscle, his mastery of close combat, both armed and unarmed, make him one
of the most lethal men on the planet.
After several hours, Mr. Bennet stands. “That’s enough for today.” Looking to where
Havoc was struggling to his feet, he gestures to the Haitian. “This is probably the second
most important aspect of your training. We’ll do this every day until you are as good as
Pritchard can make you.” With a slight smile, he watches as the blood and bruises slowly
fade. “Now get showered and grab a snack. Then get some sleep.” The grin turned slightly
malicious. “You’re going to need it.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
The conference room had been left for us just as Noah had said it would be. Making the
calls, I sat back and took a drink of my beer. After another 5 minutes, both Linderman and
Bob appeared.
Looking into the monitor, Bob asked, “What do you have?”
Ignoring him for a second, I looked at Linderman’s monitor. “You’ll need to replace a pair
of agents, Linderman.”
Raising one eyebrow, he smiled. “Indeed. Which ones, may I ask?”
“Greg Coleman and Kristen Hart.”
“And why do they need replaced?”
“They had information we needed, but needed persuaded to part with it. During the
interrogation they both admitted to working directly for Bernhelm.”
Narrowing his eyes in cold fury, Linderman leaned forward. His voice dangerous, he said,
“I assume such disloyalty has been suitably rewarded?”
Nodding, I took another drink. “Coleman’s dead by my hand, and we’ll initiate Hart’s
protocols after we’re finished here.”
“Excellent.” Leaning back, he let his voice adopt a more congenial tone. “Now, to echo
Robert, what have you learned from our traitors?”
Pulling out my notebook, I ran through everything I had learned from them. Partway
through, I looked at Bob in irritation. “It would have been nice to have known just why the
fuck you wanted us to bring Tripp back alive.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Bob. He was the Agent responsible for identifying, collecting and
recruiting Bernhelm. He stayed in more or less constant contact, which is the reason for
the timing of Claus’ stunt here.”
Bob shrugged. “We didn’t know for sure that they were working together, and that
information was not deemed necessary for the purposes of your mission.”
“Bull shit! If you send us out on a fucking mission without all the information regarding
the job, it’s your own fucking fault if the damn pooch gets it in the ass! Never pull that shit
on me again!”
Over the next hour, I ran through the remaining information. “Looks like the trail leads to
the Dominican Republic. We’ll fly down there in a few days.”
Bob glared at me, still pissed about me calling him out. “Why not tomorrow?”
Taking another drink, I shrugged. “Because I need to be in Hartsdale to have a chat with
Adam tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not!”
Linderman had leaned back with a mysterious smile. “Not so fast, Robert. Why do you
need to speak with Mr. Monroe?”
“Because, according to both the moles, he was behind all this.”
Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible. He’s been incarcerated for the last thirty years.”
Linderman appeared to be considering the information carefully. “Don’t be so positive
about this being impossible, Robert. Monroe was responsible for bringing Mr. Tripp into
the fold, as it were. That links him with young Claus as well.” With a slightly sinister grin, he
leaned forward again. “I recommend allowing Michael to question Adam. He may uncover
some useful information.”
After several minutes, Bob finally nodded in agreement. “Fine. I’ll call the facility and tell
them to expect you tomorrow, Michael.”
Elle looked up. “What about me, Daddy?”
“You will be staying with Linderman at the Kirby Plaza facility. You already fucked up
down there once, Elle.” With that final statement, the teleconference ended.
Over the next several hours we cleaned up our mess. After disposing of Coleman’s body,
we instituted Hart’s protocols, essentially burying her alive in liquid concrete. Finally,
around midnight, we made it back to the penthouse.
Stepping into the shower, I relaxed under the spray of a hot shower, letting it pound on
the tense muscles in my shoulders and back. After about a half hour, I felt Elle come into
the shower, reaching to my waist and stroking; snickering wickedly when she felt me begin
to react.
After a couple minutes, she knotted her hands in my hair. “Fuck foreplay, I’m horny now.”
Yanking my head down into a fierce kiss, she wrapped her legs around my waist, letting my
arms hold her, and impaled herself on me with an excited groan.
***********
February 30, 2003; Hartsdale, New York
The hallways of the prison facility were almost painfully white, with a nearly antiseptic
smell. The cells were identical, save for the numbers on their doors. The Hartsdale facility
held only the most dangerous Specials were held.
The cell I was looking for was most of the way back. The seemingly young man seated on
his bed was what most women would probably consider attractive. Elle had definitely found
him so at one point. His scent was that peculiarly flawless aroma of someone incapable of
succumbing to illness or injury. He was also, for that reason, considerably older than he
appeared. He looked to be in his mid-twenties to early-thirties, but the truth was that he
was nearly four centuries older.
Looking up from his floor, he flashed a slight grin as I let myself in. “They sent me a
visitor. How thoughtful. To be honest, though, I’d prefer someone a little less male.”
Sitting in a chair facing him, I stared straight at him. Despite his British accent and his
considerable charm, I knew him to be even more coldly, even brutally, calculating than
Angela Petrelli at he best. “This isn’t a social call, Monroe. I have some questions, and you
have the answers.”
“I do indeed.” Relaxing onto his bed, he folded his arms behind his head. “For instance, I
know your name to be Michael.” Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he grinned.
“Don’t act so surprised. After all, it isn’t as if I could fail to recognize my own son.”
Chapter 5: Revelations
By Chris Ward
1994; Unknown Location
It has been a week since they dropped him off in this heavily wooded area. According to
Bob, it was for purposes of Survival Training. Though unsure of the cause, Havoc
experiences a sense of déjà vu. He’s certain he has been in a situation similar to this
before, although he cannot remember when or where.
He is hunting when he catches the scent. Stopping in his tracks, he concentrates until he
recognizes the intruder. With a feral grin he sprints deeper into the trees. Using the scent
as a guide, he takes a running leap into the lower branches. In much the fashion of an ape
he runs, swings, and jumps through the limbs from tree to tree.
Sighting his target, he silently slides his knife from its sheath at his waist and leaps
through the air, performing a twisting dive that lands him just behind the target. Wrapping
his arm around its neck, he lays the blade against its throat. Only then does he realize he’s
been duped. Swearing under his breath, he throws the mannequin to the ground, and
begins to cast about for the origin of the scent that brought him here.
At that moment, he feels the barrel of a pistol press against the back of his head as a dry,
almost clinical, voice says, “Tag; you’re dead.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Agent Hart’s pained shriek tore through the room as Elle fired another low-powered blast
into one of the small tubs of water below her. Firing one final blast into the water, she
watched in pleasure as the charge flew up the chain and into the nipple-clamps. After yet
another throat-tearing scream, she dangled from her bonds, panting.
Leaning against the wall, I nodded at Elle to stop. Lying slightly, I said, “I don’t actually
enjoy doing that, Hart.” Pushing away from the wall, I walked over to where she lay, greedily
gasping air. “Unfortunately, you didn’t leave me very little choice. We know you and Claus
met privately. I suspect there were… several… such meetings. All we need, right now, is
confirmation.”
Raising her head, she glared at me. “Fuck off.”
Smiling sadly, I bent down to look her in the eyes. Dropping the forced civility, I snarled,
“This is gonna hurt, Hart. I’d hoped what you had just gone through would be enough to
persuade you to cooperate. Have you been wondering about that odd feeling between your
legs? We have a metal band on your magic button, and a nice metal plug in your fuck box.
Both are linked to one of the tubs below you.” Slipping back, I glanced at Elle. “Three more;
low-powered.”
With a vicious grin, she took aim and fired. The agonized howls that followed hurt my
ears. Finally she slumped against her restraints, sobbing with pain. “Now, did those
meetings occur?”
Without even lifting her head, she whimpered, “Yes.”
“Excellent. We’re going to have a little chat with Coleman down the hall, so you’ll have a
little time alone. When we get back, we’ll want to know everything that happened, and
everything you talked about, during those meetings. We’ve already proven that you can’t
lie to me, so you may want to think about your answers a little while we’re gone.”
***********
1994; Unknown Location
Dropping his hands in disgust, Havoc puts the knife away. Turning around slowly, he
faces the man with the gun. “Hello, Mr. Bennet.”
Replacing the pistol in his shoulder holster, Bennet takes a minute to adjust his gilly suit.
Looking back at his trainee, he asks, “Where’d you fuck up?”
Thinking about it for a minute, Havoc grunts in irritation. “I was too quick. I caught your
scent and tracked you here. As soon as I thought I saw you, I attacked.”
“Exactly. Impatience is your greatest weakness, Michael, and it will get you killed. If you’d
taken just another 10 or 15 seconds, you’d have realized something wasn’t right with the
setup, and you’d have been able to beat me. You need to learn subtlety and precision, and
for that you need patience.”
Letting Havoc carry the dummy, Bennet leads him away. “Your ability makes you stronger
and more agile than nearly anyone. That means you’re also faster. That speed translates
into time; you have more time than others would to assess a situation. When combined with
your enhanced senses, this gives you the potential of becoming one of the most
dangerous men on the planet. Your main problem is your tendency to take a brute force
approach to everything.”
“Works, doesn’t it?”
Spinning on Havoc, Bennet glares directly up into his eyes. “Twenty-five percent of the
time, possibly a little more, yes. The majority of situations you’ll find yourself in with this
Organization will call for something else. Any brute can jump in and tear things up, and wind
up dead. I’m trying to train you to be more dangerous than that.” Turning around, he leads
his trainee up the nearby hill.
“Where are we going?”
“Back to school.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Unlike Hart, Coleman tried not to scream. All he allowed to escape were occasional
agonized whimpers as I used the whip to open his back. After a while, when his back was
bleeding profusely, I nodded at Elle and put the whip away. Smoothing her blouse and short
skirt with one hand, she walked over to him and caressed his cheek with the other. Adding
an oddly girlish quality to her voice, she asked, “Why don’t you just tell us what you and
that man talked about? Then maybe the two of us can go someplace and make this an
unpleasant memory.”
“Go to hell!”
Shrugging, she went back to her chair while I picked up the next tool. Taking the
weighted end of the long rope loosely in my right hand, I carefully measured the distance.
“I love this toy, Greg; I really do. See, it presents me with so many options. For instance, I
can do this.” Launching the weight, I slammed it into his kidney.
Biting back the shout of pain that threatened to escape, he began panting heavily, trying
to overcome it. While he was doing so, I began spinning the rope in lazily expanding
circles. “I also get to do this.” Altering the speed and angle slightly, I slammed the weight
into his crotch. That brought out an agonized scream, which tore through the room. After
repeating the action twice more, I set the rope aside and waved at Elle.
Smiling, she waited for his screams to die down. Once they had faded to ragged gasps,
she sauntered over. “This is just going to get worse. Why don’t you tell me what I want to
know? Didn’t Bernhelm try to turn you against the Organization?”
Sagging in defeat, he nodded. “Yes.”
With a grin that seemed to light the room, she kissed his cheek. “See, that wasn’t so
hard. Now, we’re gonna leave you alone to think about the answer to this next question.
What did he ask you to do?” When he took a breath, she pressed a finger against his lips.
“Just hold that thought.”
***********
1994; Unknown
“Again.”
Havoc comes to a stop in front of his trainer. “Why? That was the fastest I’ve ever run
the damn thing!”
Holding the clipboard loosely in his hands, Mr. Bennet stands from his observation chair.
I know.” Directing a flat stare at his student, he fills his tone with ice. “It was also the
sloppiest one you’ve ever done. You worried so much about running it fast, you weren’t
concerned with running it clean. Now, do it again.”
Swearing under his breath, Havoc jogs to the beginning of the course. At the signal, he
sprints the twenty yards to the first wall. Halfway through the sprint he leaps into a forward
roll, picking up the grappling gun as he launches over it. Rolling to his feet, he aims slightly
above the wall and releases the grapple even as he finishes the sprint.
As soon as he feels the grapple settle into place, he leaps and begins climbing, bracing
his feet against it as he does. At the top of the wall, he picks the grapple up and, with
unerring aim, flips it the short distance through a small, fixed ring. Launching out from the
wall, he releases the rope at the end of his swing. Using that momentum, he flips into a
dive, slicing into the surface of the water more than forty feet below. At the end of an
Olympic sized pool stands a climbing wall, which Havoc climbs like a spider-monkey.
The top of the wall leads to a series of rings, which work their way up a slight incline. At
the end of the rings, he finds himself facing a series of metal bars. If they were closer
together it would resemble an inclined ladder, but each rung requires a carefully gauged
leap to reach. Scaling the rungs, he finds himself facing a several yard drop into an
elaborate jungle-gym which requires extreme acrobatics to safely traverse through to the
floor below.
Rotating around the lowest bar, he releases into a drop kick into the first of three target-
dummy’s head. Flexing his knees at the last second, he uses the force of the kick to propel
himself in a back flip, ripping the knife from its grasp and the gun from its waist as he twists
himself around. Landing in a crouch, he flips the knife into the air. Even as the blade is
flickering through the air, he drills the second target through the bulls-eye between its
eyes. Reaching up with the unarmed hand, he grasps the knife by the blade as he begins a
forward roll. Coming out of the roll, he adds the momentum of the roll to an overhand
throw, burying the knife to the hilt in the final mannequin’s chest-target, even as he aims
the pistol back along the path he had just come, blasting the first target in its eye.
Dropping the pistol to the floor, he looks over to where his instructor is seated. Taking a
few last notes, Bennet closes the folder. “Good work. Much better this time. Not only quick,
but clean. The clean up on the targets was nearly perfect. The entire run showed much
more polish; even a little artistry, which means you’re starting to let your personality
through instead of just going through the motions.” Opening a door, he waves Havoc
through. “Let’s grab a bite to eat, and then we’ve got a little dodge-ball set up for you.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
When her ragged screams died into pained sobs, I grabbed Hart by her chin and jerked
her face up to look at me. “Listen to me, bitch. Everything we’ve done to you up to this
point may have been extremely painful, but we’ve yet to actually hurt you. If you don’t start
talking, and telling us the fucking truth, I start having Elle fry your ass. Now talk.”
In her scream-hoarsened and torn voice, she gasped, “I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Bull shit, Hart. You told us that the two of you fucked each other’s brains out. That was
only partly true. Although I know that was involved, he recruited you for more than your
round heels and spread legs.”
When she clamped her mouth shut, I stepped back. Looking at Elle, I nodded. “Fry her
tits. Maybe that’s give her something to think about.”
With an evil grin, Elle raised a hand. “Second or third?”
“Start with second.” Tipping my chair against the wall, I closed my eyes and waited for the
new round of agonized screams to subside. When they finally did, I cracked my eyes to look
at her. “You see how it is, I hope? You will talk eventually. Elle and I have done this kind of
thing quite a bit, actually, and they always talk.”
Standing up, I ran my hand up her back before tracing her cheek with my fingertips.
Following the curve of her neck, I slid my fingers down her breast before deliberately
scraping my nails along the burn marks radiating from the clamps, eliciting a pained moan.
“To be honest about it, we’ve had a few actually beg us to kill them. We did as they
requested,” deliberately pinching the burned nipple, I listened as she screamed,
“eventually. Only, however, after they told us what they wanted.” Releasing the offended
breast, I yanked her head up by her hair. Holding her face inches from my own, I dropped
the pleasant tone. “We don’t have to be that careful with you. If we push it too far and kill
you, we just wait a few minutes and start again. We have nowhere to be, and all the time to
get there. Last fucking chance; talk!”
“Go fuck yourself!”
Grunting, I drove my knife into her chest, neatly slicing through her heart. Cleaning the
blade in her hair, I put it away and turned around. Taking the case from my pocket, I pullet
out a syringe and a blue vial. “When she comes back, give her another injection. Wait about
5 minutes, and then you can play with her.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Just down the hall. I want to have a chat with Coleman. I’ll get his information, come hell
or high fucking water, then I’ll come back. I want her begging me to let her talk.”
Elle’s eyes lit up. “So, when you say I get to play with her…?”
Walking to the wall, I dumped the bag on the table. “Do what you want with her, and enjoy
it as much as you want. First, second, third, hell, even fourth degree burns. If you get bored
frying her beautiful ass, use some of this shit. If she dies on you, give her another dose
when she comes back.” Shoving the barbed whip aside, I pulled out a gag and threw it to
her. “So you don’t have to listen to her if you don’t want to.”
***********
1994; Unknown
What Mr. Bennet was referring to with the term dodge-ball is a gauntlet. It’s an obstacle
course designed specifically with Havoc in mind. It requires him to use his speed, strength
and agility to their utmost, but in combination with his enhanced senses of sight, smell and
hearing. Hidden throughout the course are anywhere from one to a couple dozen
Organization sharpshooters. That number changes with each run, and they are never in the
same places twice. They are given non-lethal projectile weapons, and their job is to hit
Havoc as he works his way through the course.
He performs the third and fourth runs flawlessly, dodging the weapon’s fire that came
near him. After finishing the final run, he looks at Bennet, who flashes him a rare smile.
“Excellent job. It’s time for dinner.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
Agent Coleman’s screams of excruciating pain, even muffled behind a gag, filled the
small room. Putting the pliers back on the small table, I waited for them to subside into
agonized sobs before removing the gag. Looking at his tear-streaked face, I filled my voice
with contempt. “You still have one nut left. If I don’t start getting answers, that one goes
too.”
After several minutes, he gasped, “I’ve already answered your damn questions.”
“And the answers that weren’t outright lies were half-fucking-truths! Start talking.”
I had been in the room with him for several hours. The whip had shredded his back. His
face, chest, legs and arms looked like a jigsaw puzzle from the tortures they had suffered.
Both feet and one hand had been shattered from the beatings. The other hand was
completely gone, as was one eye and an ear. Each new torture had provided a mix of truths
and lies. What he had not counted on was the way I could use my abilities to determine the
truth. After a succession of total lies I had decided to step things up and grabbed the pliers.
Taking up the pliers again, I tapped his remaining testicle gently with them. Drawing a
frightened gasp, he tried to shrink away. “I’ll talk, damn it!”
Sitting back against the wall, I took notes while he answered every question I asked.
After a couple hours, when I was absolutely certain he had no more information to give me,
I stood and put the notebook away. Walking up behind him, I grabbed his hair and yanked
his head back and to the side. Pressing my knife against his throat, I pressed my mouth to
his remaining ear. “You didn’t really think I’d let you live, did you?”
Cleaning the blade, I headed down the hall to Hart’s interrogation room, making a brief
stop before entering. Opening the door, I was nearly overwhelmed by the combined smell
of badly burned, torn, beaten and cut flesh and the distinct aroma left by death. As I
entered Elle released another powerful burst into the tub that would carry the current to
the vaginal plug.
Closing the door, I waited for the muffled shrieks of agony to die. Once they had become
tearing gasps, I caught Elle’s attention. Tossing her one of the beers I had picked up, I
glanced at he victim. “How many times did she die?”
Taking a long pull from the can, she almost purred in satisfaction. “Dunno. Maybe three.”
Taking a quick drink of my own beer, I ran a practiced eye over her badly beaten, burned
and broken, bloody body. Putting down my beer, I pulled off the gag. “Talk to me, bitch.”
In a voice barely above a hoarse whisper, she explained her role in Bernhelm’s
insurrection. Over the next hour, she gave every detail she knew. When I was certain we
had gotten everything from her that she knew, I walked up behind her and shoved my knife
through the base of her skull and into her brain. After cleaning the blade and putting it
away, I tore the clamps and plug from her body and dumped them in the water. Putting the
syringe and half-empty vial into the case and back in my pocket, we went to Bennet’s office.
Hanging up his phone, he leaned back in his chair. “How’s the interrogation going?”
Grunting, I relaxed into my chair and closed my eyes. “Done. They’ve given us everything
they know.”
“And the agents?”
“Coleman’s dead.” Opening my eyes, I glanced at my watch. “Shit. It’s past 6? Damn.
Listen, the two of us are gonna grab something to eat, then we’ll clean up down there.”
“All right. What do you need from me?”
Thinking quickly, I scratched my shoulder. “A couple things, actually. I need a secure
conference room so I can tell them what we learned, and get my marching orders.” That
was a lie, but a necessary one. Once they give me a mission, they leave me alone to
accomplish it. The truth was I needed to talk to Bob and Linderman about what I had
discovered and put in an interview request; and Noah wasn’t on the need-to-know list
regarding Linderman’s role and position in the Organization.
“I’ll also need access to Agent Hart’s Omega Protocols.” Part of the testing every Special
was put though upon collection was to discover what could either kill or incapacitate them.
That information was placed in a secret file known only to those in Supervisory positions,
as well as those few in my position. Called the Omega Protocols, they took a personalized
code to access.
“I’ll have her protocol emailed to you. When you get back from dinner, the conference
room will be ready.” Taking off his glasses, he cleaned them thoughtfully while keeping his
cold stare on me. “Anything else you can tell me?”
Standing up, I shook my head. “Sorry, Noah, you know the rules. All I can say is this is
bigger and messier than anyone realized.”
***********
1994; Unknown Location
“Your abilities make you stronger, more agile, and less susceptible to injury than most.
What you need to learn now is what to do when that advantage is lost; either through
someone blocking your abilities or because you encounter someone whose abilities in
those areas are greater.” Mr. Bennet steps into the room, followed by the Haitian and a
massive man built like an Adonis.
Sitting in one of the chairs by the wall, Bennet glances down at the clipboard he always
carries. “Since, at the moment anyway, we do not have access to a Special who outstrips
your abilities, we have to do this the other way. My friend here will block your abilities while
Pritchard trains you in close combat.”
Kris Pritchard was the most dangerous Normal in the Company. A Weapons Master, he
was also an expert in several different martial arts. With a frame stretching just past seven
feet of pure muscle, his mastery of close combat, both armed and unarmed, make him one
of the most lethal men on the planet.
After several hours, Mr. Bennet stands. “That’s enough for today.” Looking to where
Havoc was struggling to his feet, he gestures to the Haitian. “This is probably the second
most important aspect of your training. We’ll do this every day until you are as good as
Pritchard can make you.” With a slight smile, he watches as the blood and bruises slowly
fade. “Now get showered and grab a snack. Then get some sleep.” The grin turned slightly
malicious. “You’re going to need it.”
***********
February 29, 2003; Odessa, Texas
The conference room had been left for us just as Noah had said it would be. Making the
calls, I sat back and took a drink of my beer. After another 5 minutes, both Linderman and
Bob appeared.
Looking into the monitor, Bob asked, “What do you have?”
Ignoring him for a second, I looked at Linderman’s monitor. “You’ll need to replace a pair
of agents, Linderman.”
Raising one eyebrow, he smiled. “Indeed. Which ones, may I ask?”
“Greg Coleman and Kristen Hart.”
“And why do they need replaced?”
“They had information we needed, but needed persuaded to part with it. During the
interrogation they both admitted to working directly for Bernhelm.”
Narrowing his eyes in cold fury, Linderman leaned forward. His voice dangerous, he said,
“I assume such disloyalty has been suitably rewarded?”
Nodding, I took another drink. “Coleman’s dead by my hand, and we’ll initiate Hart’s
protocols after we’re finished here.”
“Excellent.” Leaning back, he let his voice adopt a more congenial tone. “Now, to echo
Robert, what have you learned from our traitors?”
Pulling out my notebook, I ran through everything I had learned from them. Partway
through, I looked at Bob in irritation. “It would have been nice to have known just why the
fuck you wanted us to bring Tripp back alive.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Bob. He was the Agent responsible for identifying, collecting and
recruiting Bernhelm. He stayed in more or less constant contact, which is the reason for
the timing of Claus’ stunt here.”
Bob shrugged. “We didn’t know for sure that they were working together, and that
information was not deemed necessary for the purposes of your mission.”
“Bull shit! If you send us out on a fucking mission without all the information regarding
the job, it’s your own fucking fault if the damn pooch gets it in the ass! Never pull that shit
on me again!”
Over the next hour, I ran through the remaining information. “Looks like the trail leads to
the Dominican Republic. We’ll fly down there in a few days.”
Bob glared at me, still pissed about me calling him out. “Why not tomorrow?”
Taking another drink, I shrugged. “Because I need to be in Hartsdale to have a chat with
Adam tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not!”
Linderman had leaned back with a mysterious smile. “Not so fast, Robert. Why do you
need to speak with Mr. Monroe?”
“Because, according to both the moles, he was behind all this.”
Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible. He’s been incarcerated for the last thirty years.”
Linderman appeared to be considering the information carefully. “Don’t be so positive
about this being impossible, Robert. Monroe was responsible for bringing Mr. Tripp into
the fold, as it were. That links him with young Claus as well.” With a slightly sinister grin, he
leaned forward again. “I recommend allowing Michael to question Adam. He may uncover
some useful information.”
After several minutes, Bob finally nodded in agreement. “Fine. I’ll call the facility and tell
them to expect you tomorrow, Michael.”
Elle looked up. “What about me, Daddy?”
“You will be staying with Linderman at the Kirby Plaza facility. You already fucked up
down there once, Elle.” With that final statement, the teleconference ended.
Over the next several hours we cleaned up our mess. After disposing of Coleman’s body,
we instituted Hart’s protocols, essentially burying her alive in liquid concrete. Finally,
around midnight, we made it back to the penthouse.
Stepping into the shower, I relaxed under the spray of a hot shower, letting it pound on
the tense muscles in my shoulders and back. After about a half hour, I felt Elle come into
the shower, reaching to my waist and stroking; snickering wickedly when she felt me begin
to react.
After a couple minutes, she knotted her hands in my hair. “Fuck foreplay, I’m horny now.”
Yanking my head down into a fierce kiss, she wrapped her legs around my waist, letting my
arms hold her, and impaled herself on me with an excited groan.
***********
February 30, 2003; Hartsdale, New York
The hallways of the prison facility were almost painfully white, with a nearly antiseptic
smell. The cells were identical, save for the numbers on their doors. The Hartsdale facility
held only the most dangerous Specials were held.
The cell I was looking for was most of the way back. The seemingly young man seated on
his bed was what most women would probably consider attractive. Elle had definitely found
him so at one point. His scent was that peculiarly flawless aroma of someone incapable of
succumbing to illness or injury. He was also, for that reason, considerably older than he
appeared. He looked to be in his mid-twenties to early-thirties, but the truth was that he
was nearly four centuries older.
Looking up from his floor, he flashed a slight grin as I let myself in. “They sent me a
visitor. How thoughtful. To be honest, though, I’d prefer someone a little less male.”
Sitting in a chair facing him, I stared straight at him. Despite his British accent and his
considerable charm, I knew him to be even more coldly, even brutally, calculating than
Angela Petrelli at he best. “This isn’t a social call, Monroe. I have some questions, and you
have the answers.”
“I do indeed.” Relaxing onto his bed, he folded his arms behind his head. “For instance, I
know your name to be Michael.” Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he grinned.
“Don’t act so surprised. After all, it isn’t as if I could fail to recognize my own son.”
