Book one.Chapter 7

-Chapter 7

Swarms of security were about, wearing nothing else on their uniforms other than Serene Corp tools and weapons. They were rather abrupt at receiving Jim, as he was carrying weapons himself. Before he had a chance to take out his identification, they had taken hold of Jim at gun point.

"I'm one of the guys putting people on the no-fly list. You'd think I'd know if I was on it!" said Jim, making as big a scene as can be.

"You'll have to answer to the Duty Sargent. Tell him how you boarded with sidearms heading into the United States." said the guard in charge as they dragged Jim down a corridor separate from the typical air port terminals. It was a long hallway leading toward the security hub, barracks, brig, and interrogation chambers.

Waiting down the hallway was a rather tall, older man. Curled white hair, well trimmed in military fashion showed signs of a deep struggle with dandruff by the white flakes on the slim black suit. His identification badge read simply Mr. Bergeron for the name.

"That's enough boys. I've got it from here." said Mr. Bergeron. The crew halted, yet were puzzled on the conflict of authority.

"Don't make me smack the stuffing out of very single one of you! I'm surprised he hasn't yet already." insisted Mr. Bergeron.

"I see you still haven't seen the dermatologist about the flakes, huh?" said Jim as his restraints were removed. Mr. Bergeron came close raising a fist. Last minute, the spry old man turned and hit the guard in charge instead.

"I've seen you look better, too." said Mr. Bergeron. He then turned to the guard in charge once more. "Consider that even for wrongfully detaining an agent of the CIA, which still exists whether you whitey tighties agree with it or not!"

The other guards had to help the guard in charge up to his feet, and carry him onward.

"Great. Now, could we find some other place to talk? It smells like total 1984 off-duty in here." said Jim, gazing at the officers who were gathered around vid screens watching every move within the airport.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." said Mr. Bergeron.

"You got here just in time before martial law was put into effect. Lucky doesn't begin to describe it." Mr. Bergeron said after removing his lips from around a freshly rolled cigarette. The smoke billowed out as he talked, as if not bothered at all by it.

"Why martial law?" asked Jim, who had been staring at his own cig held in his hand.

"Everyone's been all uppity since toga man threatened the White House. We're just about one step from going up to DEFCON level Kiss Your Anus Goodbye." said Mr. Bergeron. "Speaking of which, kid.  I figure you know why the world never got to see Toga Man Live at the Acropolis? I know what I'm telling the Big Guy. I just want to hear it straight."

"We infiltrated, hoping we could get even more of an edge if we fried the cameras. Turned out we were just avoiding the world seeing us get our rear ends handed to us." said Jim, finally taking a drag off his cigarette.

"I hate to see our boys up against Victory, now. Y'know, these assault rifles they're using don't even use real bullets anymore? They use some new fangled high velocity, electrified gel with some sort of recoilless trigger mechanism. How the hell do you trust a rifle that has no recoil?" said Mr. Bergeron. Many eyes were on them as they were standing in the lobby, smoking like chimneys. The television screens were flooding with analysts, experts, and government representatives talking about Victory, America's new public enemy number one.

Jim sniggered at Mr. Bergeron's remark. They both fell silent as one of the reporters on the screen announced one interview in particular was to be with Dr. Cisco Alfonzo, world renown Christian philosopher.

"So, what are you doing here, kid?" asked Mr. Bergeron, lighting another stick and putting it in his lips. He had sucked the other one down to the filter.

"M Tack needs me to find their little pet." said Jim, looking as if he were sorry to say. Mr. Bergeron shook his head slowly, spitting out a violent puff of smoke.

"What do you owe those wanna be Masons?" he said, wanting to cuff the boy in the head.

"I tried to explain it before, Mr. B. The Masons had a saying. Once a Mason, always a Mason. That's one way Mike tack Omega is the same." said Jim.

Mr. Bergeron stifled a cough.

"Right, right. I'll make sure to give you clearance to where you need to go." he said, ending the conversation by stuffing his cigarette on the back of a chair. Mr. Bergeron gazed back at Jim intently.

"It still doesn't sit right with me. To see a kid like you as a triple agent." he said. Then Mr. Bergeron walked off.

A boy running from his sister in a frantic game of tag skidded into Jim's leg. Jim's green eyes were locked onto the cigarette, remaining so even after the forty pound kid hit. A sudden memory stirred in his mind, and Jim found himself in a dark, dank, smelly room so long ago. A man was in the doorway, yelling at the two thrown into the room.

"You were born for a higher purpose than games! You were born to serve the Cause!" the man in the doorway said before shutting the door. It was then swiftly locked with a hard clang that rung in the air along with the sound of foot steps leading away from the cast iron door. The two young boys huddled around a small beam of light shining from a window, etched to block anything to really be seen on the outside. It was also soundproofed to prevent anything to be heard from the inside. The boy with green eyes and brown hair turned to the other. The boy with curly blond hair and blue eyes looked at Jim, and kept repeating "I'm sorry."

The green eyes were  wide on Jim's face before he snapped back. Jim found himself staring at a kid with a black bowl cut staring back at him, the same one who bumped into him.

"Sorry." the kid said, sheepishly stepping backward.

Jim was grimly silent. Then he broke the cigarette, tossed it aside, patted the kid on the head, and walked out.

Noise was emitting from the radio again as Jim drove down the highway leading through Port Dickinson on to Port Crane. He shut the radio off with a huff. After a second thought Jim then turned it back on. The first station it tuned to made Jim jump at the sound of the Cardinal's voice. Jim reminded himself it was just the old man's radio show.

"So. My point is, Fredrick, that the so called God like qualities this man, Victory, possesses does not necessarily convince someone like me that God, as I believe in, does not exist. Very much on the contrary, sir. I see the supernatural force that is Victory as verified evidence that there exists in the universe something in which simple scientific observation cannot at all explain." Alfonzo was saying.

"But, Cisco. Do you mean to tell me that this guy is something God would allow to roam about on earth? Just to torment us?" said the caller Alfonzo was talking to.

"Fredrick-"

"Oh. But you would call it testing us, instead. Right? See. This is how closed minded thinking goes with you Christians. You go on as if everything points to your own god. It's only you're own interpretation of god. One you try to force on everyone else."

"My dear Fredrick. It is true that I am speaking from how I myself believe. If I may be bold to ask one simple question..."

"...Ask what, Mr. Alfonzo? How about I ask what your so called god is about to do about Victory? Is it going to be the same as what he did to Hitler in World War Two? Some psychotic children in Columbine? Taliban during  9/11? Huh?"

"Fredrick. Could I ask just one question?"

"Fine."

"What is so wrong about believing in God, and talking about it?"

"Well. That's not what is wrong. You're changing the subject of what I'm saying, though."

"I do not believe I am, Fredrick. What troubles me is when closed minded thinking says that Christianity is so forceful and intimidating."

"What about the crusades? And the inquisition?"

"Both are events that ended centuries ago. Would you not agree, Fredrick?"

"Tell that to people like Ken Ham. Trying to say the Christian worldview is the only viable foundation for scientific study? I mean, come on!"

"Would it surprise you to say I also disagree with Dr. Ham's choice of words in the debate you refer to? In his own words he defined science as what it is, which is theory based on observation. I think we both can agree that theory of how the universe came to be, something that --even as Dr. Ham put so well-- is impossible for anyone now to observe, does not stop someone with a differing worldview to base their observation completely on what they have seen in their own lifetime. Do we agree on this, Fredrick?"

"I guess..."

"Yet, both Dr. Ham and myself are not by any means striking terror in the hearts of society to force the world into a tyrannical theocracy. Christians today see far too much religious violence already."

"You're talking about Muslims now?"

"A shining modern example of what mistake was made with the crusades. That is what the Muslim Jehad is, would you not agree?"

"All the more reason why it is wrong to talk about god. It would cause violence."

"This is where we part on the issue, sir. Because I feel it is now so much more important to talk about God. It is vitally important to continue peaceful talking so the world does not lose sight of who God truly is behind the fog of our own sin and false justice. If the world can call Jihad an unholy war, what remains to be called holy in the world...?"

Some hundreds of miles and an ocean away from upstate New York, Alfonzo was sitting in one of his many round the world radio stations. After along winded talk with a man named Fred, Alfonzo was lost in thought remembering a day where faith was even more of a challenge. The reason it was much more of a challenge back then was not because there was so much opposition to Christian worldview...

...but no opposition at all against an army backed by a bastardization of Christianity.

Alfonzo thought of his brother...

Remembering the time, Alfonzo pressed a button, bringing himself near the microphone.

"The final words for today, listeners. We are bound to see many strange things in our lives. How we perceive such things is just as important as to how we act upon our perceptions. If one were to try and see with a worldview with the individual tint of every human being  we would find ourselves blinded by the presumptions and pride we all harbor within ourselves. How then are we to live? For myself, I can only put my trust in one prefect God to give me such an answer. This is Dr. Cisco Alfonzo. Signing off. God bless you." said Alfonzo. He clicked the button once more, then immediately turned to face a computer monitor to read on E50 reports. Naturally, he started with Jim's first.