Jason drives onto the surface of the aircraft carrier from the ramp. His glossy black supercar parks onto the concrete, and we get out. Behind us, a van drives onto the ship. James steps out of the van, his yellow an black dirt bike gear contrasting sharply against the grey surroundings.
Behind him, Wyatt and Saul step out of the van.
"Yo!" I yell to James, waving to him.
James nods.
After a couple minutes of talking, he walks towards the van. "Where you going?"
"I'm just gettin the van out." He states, opening the driver door. He leaves the door open as he starts the vehicle, putting it into drive. He lightly steps onto the pedal and jumps out, the van rolling towards the edge of the aircraft carrier.
"What the fuck!" Jason yells, running towards the van.
James tumbles to the ground, before standing up and looking proud of himself. Saul walks past me, his black and orange dirt bike gear similar to mine. On his back is a m4 with an Acog, and an under barrel flamethrower.
With a sigh, I watch the van tilt over the edge, before falling into the ocean. We're docked on the east coast, it's a long drive to the Hudson Bay from here. James walks back over to me, acting all proud of himself.
"James. How people you invited?"
James shrugs.
I tilt my head. "The fuck you mean?"
"Over ten."
James looks at the tower, or whatever the hell that is on the aircraft carrier. "Wanna go inside?" He asks me, looking around. Wyatt stands next to a dude dressed in white and black dirt bike gear, like Wyatt but inverted. Mostly white, some black, and he has a M4 with an Acog and vertical grip.
He holds a weird looking shotgun. I've heard about his shotgun before. Twenty gauge, mostly white but with some black just like his gear. Instead of the chambering tube at the bottom, it's on the top. It has three chamber tubes, each see through and fitting six shells.
The shotgun has a vertical grip, kind of like the pumping thing. He- "Fuck!" I blurt out, as James elbows my helmet.
"You coming?" He asks, looking at me like I'm crazy.
"Sure..."
We walk past some jets and helicopters, before seeing some people crowded around the tower entrance. Guards in camo clothes hold their rifles, soldiers breathing in fresh air from being inside so long. We walk past them, entering the stairwell.
The stairs are metal, painted green, an odd smell of chlorine emits from them, or somewhere close to us. "I thought you invited Colton. Haven't seen him in a while..." I state, my black and red dirt bike gloves brushing against the guard rail.
"I did. Colt said he's busy, but he'd get to us when he could." James states, looking back at me.
"Where we going?"
James shrugs, and continues down the steps. Eventually we reach the dormitory, if you could even call it that. Bunk beds take up most of the large room, offering no privacy or space. "This can't be our room..." I mutter, my shoulders sagging.
James looks around. "I don't think it is..."
We hear steps coming down from the staircase, and James immediately waves his arms. "Hey!" He yells, walk towards the doorway. A soldier walks in the room, giving us a quick greeting and salute before leading us to where we're supposed to be.
After a couple minutes of what seems to be just wandering around, we step inside a nice lobby-like room. It has white walls and a front desk and all that stuff. Saul sits on a seat by himself, staring at the floor. To the left of him is Kai, his mostly white dirt bike gear blending him into the walls.
Next to him is Grant, I actually know him. Has a blue hoodie and blue pants, with a blue camo pattern on the clothes. A mini gun sits beside him, the ammunition belt extending inside his backpack.
The soldier gives us another salute before leaving us, James gives him a nod. On the right side of the room is Chris sitting on a couch, jamming to some song on his AirPods. Beside him is Darren. Met him once, he seemed cool. He's part of the M2 force, just like most of the other snipers.
He has camo clothes, a sniper on his back, and a knuckle duster with claws attached to it on his right hand. I step towards the person behind the desk. "Hey. Is our room here?" I ask, the person nods.
"Yes sir. You can pick out whatever one you want."
"Alright." James interjects, walking past the desk and into a hallway. I follow him, our boots stomping against the floor. Chris is further down the hallway, opening a door to the left of him. He peeks in the room and closes the door, walking down the hallway once again.
Before I can yell out, he enters a room and closes the door behind him. James snickers and looks at me as we keep walking. After a while, I reach a room that I like and enter it. It's a big room, looks like it belongs in a cruise ship.
The floor is hardwood, blue carpets and grey sofas giving it a modern colour scheme. Firstly, there is a living area. Featuring a grey L-shaped couch and a coffee table in front of it. Beside the coffee table is single seater blue couch, all sitting on a soft, smooth blue carpet.
Moving further into the room, there are two metal seats beside the white L-shaped couch. In front of the living area is a marble dining table with eight seats. "This is my room." James states.
"I found it first." I state, looking around. In front of the dining table is a large glass window, two floors in height. To the left of the window are stairs leading to a loft, with blue carpet covering the steps. The loft has glass guard rails, the steps leading to an area I can't see.
Beside the room on the loft, is a bedroom. It's a blue bed, looking modern like the rest of the room. Under the loft, to the left, is a pool table to the left of the L-shaped couch.
In front of the pool table is a large painting covering the wall, showing a picture of a woman in a dress in the middle of a desert. To the left of the pool table is an opening in the wall, a soft blue LED light shines down on the pool sticks inside the compartment.
To the right of that is a hallway, the lights are off in it. "How about we flip a coin?" James asks, leaning on the pool table.
"Sure. You even got one?" I inquire, James responds by pulling a nickel out of his pocket of his yellow dirt bike pants. He flicks it into the air, it lands on the green surface of the pool table.
"Heads!" James yells, the coin spins slightly. I cross my arms, staring at the coin like it owes me money. The coin settles on tails, and James throws the coin at a wall.
"Thank god. I didn't want this room anyway!" He yells, throwing his hands in the air.
Chuckling, I unbuckle my helmet. "My ass..."
James looks at me, trying to act unbothered. "I know it's gonna suck having to stay in this hunk of junk, but you can do it." He states, patting my shoulder.
"I don't know if I can..." My gloves grasp my helmet, taking it off my head. The black and red dirt bike helmet contrasting sharply against the silver visor attached to it. James looks out the window, putting his hands on his hips. Taking off my black shiesty.
"Oh look, I even got a porch." The glass window has a glass double door that I didn't see before, a hardwood porch for viewing in front of it.
James shakes his head, looking back at me. "You got a bathroom?"
"Probably. I don't know where it'd be though."
James looks to the dark hallway. He unslings his tan Scar-17 and sets it lightly on the pool table. "There's gotta be a fridge somewhere..." I mutter to myself. I walk past the white couch, my red and black motocross boots stomping loudly on the hardwood.
Beside the dining table I see a counter with a fridge built into it under the stairs. Just what I need. My hands grasp it open, desperately looking for a soda. All they have is coke, but that should do.
Taking on out, I put it on the dining table before looking around again. Unholstering my Glock, the only weapons left on my belt are my hatchet and machete. I unsling my shotgun and rifle, putting them on one of the chairs.
Looking back, James is gone. His helmet sitting on the pool table, like the black visor is watching me. Stepping toward his gear, I pick up his UZI. Beside it is his Scar 17 and his rusty machete.
I put the weapon down, not wanting him to catch me holding his stuff. Still not to sure how much people he invited onto the aircraft carrier, or even who. Those people at the lobby were guests, I know some of them.
Hopefully that Elder thing doesn't attack us now. I'm pretty sure Wyatt has the Blackstone fragment right now, along with the compass.
James steps out of the hallway, walking over to me. "I think I'll pick out my room now." He states, putting his gear back together.
"You gonna help us find the Blackstone I told you about?"
James looks back as he passes the white sofa. "Sure. But I heard Wyatt almost dropped it out of his helicopter. Just don't let him have it, anyone but him."
"Oh come on. People make mistakes, besides the fragments aren't going anywhere." I state, watching him open the exit.
"One bad shot ruins the hunt." With that, he leaves my room. I remember he first said that when we went hunting, we were both around eight. Guess he's trying to sound smart.
3 hours later
It's near dark outside, the main window no longer providing any natural light. My socks lightly tap the carpeted stairs, my hand providing assistance as it slides up the glass guard rails. I take a left and I'm greeted by the room I was wondering about.
Blue carpet, wood walls, and the wall has another wall beside it, further back in the room. If you can even call it a room, more like a transition way. But there's a door in-between the walls, my hands grasp the handle to twist it open.
Inside this room the floor is a dark metal, guns hanged up against the wall. Exiting the room, I walk to the bedroom that I saw on the loft.
The bedroom isn't separated by a wall, but just a glass rail. I would've liked a wall better, but the king size bed makes up for it. The view overlooks the living area, dining space, and all of that, just not below the loft where the pool table is.
Opening a drawer on a nightstand, I see a set of grey pyjamas. Putting them on, they seem to be my size. I walk to the armoury, the heavy door creaking behind me. Grabbing a gun off the wall, my eyes inspect it.
Twelve gauge, no stock shotgun. All black, the sleek design blends in with the dark room. Loading it with slugs, I walk out and go back to my bed. I sit on the blue sheets, setting the shotgun on the right side of the mattress. If anyone or anything tries to sneak in, they'll be sneaking their way to hell if I catch them.
Just as I'm about to lay down, I hear my door open. Shooting up, I look through the guardrail. Ethan stands there looking around, his camo dirt bike gear contrasting against the modern space. He still has his machine gun on his back, Jason steps in the room behind him.
Jason has his black tactical gear on, his night vision goggles flipped up on his helmet. "Landon!" Jason yells, cupping his gloves against his mouth underneath his black cloth mask.
"What the fuck?!" I respond, their heads shoot towards the loft.
"Ay. James said you'd be here." He says. His trail cams on his body are now gone, probably in his room.
"What is it?"
"We're real bored." Jason states.
Making my way down to them, I look at Jason. "Okay?"
Ethan points to the pool table to the left of him. After a couple minutes, Jason grabs a two pool sticks, giving me the second one. Ethan grabs another from the rack, and Jason looks at him incredulously. "What're you doing?"
"What?"
"There's only two players." Jason says, as he sets the balls. I lean against a wall, looking through the main window.
"We'll do three." Ethan states, leaning on the stick like a cane.
"How?" Jason asks, looking at Ethan's black visor.
Ethan grabs the stick with both hands. Walking over to the table, I look at him. "It's called Cutthroat," He begins, making the balls face the air. "For example, I'll be assigned balls one to five. And Landon here is six to eleven. I gotta knock his balls in the holes, and he has to do the same to mine."
Ethan breaks, the balls scatter across the table. "So what's with James throwing vans overboard now?" Jason asks, looking to me.
"It's just James being himself." I state, hitting the eight ball. The black sphere rolls to the corner pit, but bounces off the wall. With a groan, I look at the living area. The tv is off, I walk over to the coffee table to grab the remote and Jason lines up his stick with the ball.
"Hold on," Ethan says, grabbing his stick. He makes Jason use the correct grip, and Jason manages to knock his blue striped ball in a hole. "Hell yeah."
Walking over to the pool table, I look at Jason. "I'm better than you already!" He says, waving the pool stick in my face. Ethan shoots his red ball towards his purple solid, knocking it into the hole.
"Yo Ethan... You know who Thatcher is? Thatcher Morris?" Jason asks, tilting his head slightly.
My stick finishes off the black ball, and I shoot again. Accidentally knocking Ethan's ball towards a hole, I huff. "Sure do."
"He's weird, right?"
Ethan nods, looking at Jason. "Why'd ya ask?"
"Me and him talked at the Nonagon, couple days ago. Then when we made a pit stop at the hexagon, Miles told me he fucking raped someon-" Jason begins, but I poke him with my pool stick.
I cut him off. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."
Jason blinks, recoiling like I said something impossible. "You're saying he didn't?"
"Yeah. I talked to the guy a bunch, he ain't like that."
Jason shakes his head. "Still gives me the creeps."
Ethan looks at both of us, before trying to steer the conversation to a better place. "Your turn Jason." He states. Jason plays his turn, failing to put any of his balls in any hole besides the scratch ball.
Ethan hits one of his balls, now he only has three. "So which one are we getting?"
"What?" I ask, bewildered as to what he means.
"Which fragment are we gonna get next? The one near the Hudson Bay?"
I nod. Jason looks at us. "You ever get that feeling that something's on this ship that isn't supposed to be?"
"You or James?" I ask, knocking a ball into a hole.
Jason winds up his hand, before giving me the boldest middle finger I think I've ever seen. After a moment, he puts it down. "Actually."
"I doubt the Entity is on here."
Ethan points to me, like I sinned against god by just saying that name. "Shut it!"
30 minutes later
My body is tucked under the blankets of the bed. I can still see the rest of the room, the tv sits on its menu screen. Something about Thatcher, the fragments, what happened back in Greensboro, maybe we're losing ourselves. When I was thirteen, I swore to myself, to god that I would not kill in vain. I would not lose myself.
Maybe I have, but I still have god. That's enough for me. These past few years have just been a little... hectic. It's been hard not to think of the entity, about what has to die next. We all die one day, and hopefully when I do, I'll have already found out what that thing is.
The next day
The morning sun's rays shine brightly through the main window. Sitting on the balcony, I sip a glass of wine. My gear is put on, besides my helmet. The helmet sits on the small table next to me, like a head without a body, the exact thing many saw staring back at them before they drew their last breath.
The waves hit the bottom of the aircraft carrier, the sun reflects brightly against the Atlantic Ocean. Finishing the wine, I toss the glass into the water. My hands pull my black cloth mask over my head, then slide the helmet onto my head.
Going inside the room, I walk past the dining table. Settling onto the grey L-shaped couch, I turn the TV on. Just then, my door opens. Daniel steps in, clad in blue and silver dirt bike gear. A rifle slinged over his back, we greet each other before he sits on the couch in front of me.
"You heard of the Blackstone yet?" I ask, he nods.
"Yes."
"After you leave can you get Wyatt to take it to a better spot? Somewhere more safe?"
Daniel nods, putting one leg over the other. "Sure. Will you inspect those missiles today? I heard that was the only reason you came."
"Yep..." I state, my voice trailing off. "You ever think of the people we kill?" I ask, quietly.
Daniel tilts his helmet. "No, why?"
I shake my head, feeling uneasy. "Well I do." I stare at the floor, before looking back at him.
"And why's that?"
"Because. You don't think about the people you've killed?"
Daniel shakes his head. "No. Why should I? The people that you kill are worthless. Even you and I, worthless. What's the point of feeling remorse for killing something worthless?"
I shake my head, my eyes squinting at him. "What kinda shit is that?"
"Would you feel sorry for stepping on an ant?" He asks, I don't answer. "Everyone you see, Everyone you know dies." I sideye him, he stands up. "I'm just saying." He says, putting his hands up. He walks out without a single word, don't know what that was all about.
Maybe he's going through some episode or some shit. Haven't seen him in a while, maybe he's just changed. Groaning, I stand up and walk over to the pool table. Thatcher, rumours, what if they aren't rumours? Whatever. Miles probably done made shit up after he almost got us killed in Canada last month, to take some blame off him.
Thatcher's one of our best soldiers. He wouldn't do something like that, he saved my damn life one time. Preformed amazingly back at fort Claxton.
James POV
James sits in a seat in the control tower. His yellow dirt bike boots are settled onto the control centre in front of him. Next to him is Kai, with his shotgun slinged over his back and his white and black dirt bike gear contrasting sharply against James's yellow dirt bike gear.
Beeping of controls sounds through the room, tinted glass windows make an overwatch where the command centre can easily see across the deck. "You think Landon's gonna bite on the oil rig run? I don't wanna but he might."
Kai shakes his head, holding his grey AR-15 in his lap. "He ain't finna want to."
James looks through the windows, watching the soldiers. They work on their vehicles and some line up to get yelled at by their commanding officers. "Look at them."
Kai looks out the window. "They be working." Kai looks to James's belt, seeing a small thing poking out from his right side. Kai asks what it is, and James pulls out a mini Uzi.
"Custom, twelve thousand bullets a minute." He says, holding the gun like a diamond. "Faster then fire. You wish you could have this."
Kai shakes his head, unholstering his own gun. It's a Glock with iron sights, but with a laser and an extended magazine. "Mane, look at this shit."
"I know. Trash." James says in a teasing voice. Kai responds by flashing the blue laser in his visor. Before anything else can be done an officer walks up to them and clears his throat. James turns around, his chair spinning.
The officer goes rigid and salutes, before relaying his information. "Sir! We have some Hiwassees that attempted to board this ship. We have them apprehended, would you like to see them?"
James goes silent, tilting his head. "Hiwassee?" He holsters his Uzi. "Yeah... Yes, I would." Kai takes out his phone and James stands up. Him and the officer walks down to the deck for a couple minutes. James walks on the deck, the air smelling of sweat and fuel.
The officer leads James to the edge of the aircraft carrier deck, then departs from him. Five soldiers hold their M4's. Three on the left of James, holding a prisoner with a gag in his mouth. In front of James are two other Hiwassees, recently captured.
Their mouthes are closed with white cloths, both on their knees and sweating. James gets on one knee in front of the ones in front, looking at their faces. "Hiwassees, huh?" He stands up, unsheathing his rusty machete. "I know exactly what to do."
One Hiwassee falls on his side, the other staying upright. Without warning, James hits the upright one with the side of his machete, causing a stifled grunt.
"Dumbass!" He yells, before bringing the sharp end down onto his shoulder. Before the Hiwassee can fall over, James kicks him square in the chest, causing him to fall into the ocean. "Soldiers!" James yells, they immediately stand at attention.
"Leave us!" Without another word, they march off. James slices the cheek of the other Hiwassee, earning a squeal. James immediately stabs him in the neck, causing a squirt of blood to come out after withdrawing the machete. James is launched into a frenzy, slicing and stabbing the man's body until he is tired.
With a huff, he stands back up. Preparing to attack the other Hiwassee, he wipes his rusty blade on his yellow glove. A hand raps around his neck protecter, then a knee to his back. James stumbles forwards before turning to his attacker.
The last Hiwassee broke free from his rope ties, and is attempting to defend himself. The Hiwassee punches his helmet, but has no effect on James. James responds by slamming the black plastic hand guard on the machete against the man's nose. He stumbles back, blood leaking from his nostrils.
James rushes towards him, plunging the machete as deep through his chest as he can. The gags, before James musters up the strength to wrench the machete sideways to widen the injury cavity. The man grunts, before pushing James's shoulder. James in turn tosses him onto the ground, watching his eyes grow cold and lifeless.
James sheaths his machete again, nodding to a raddled soldier that saw the ordeal.
Landon POV
I sit in a chair inside Chris's room. Chris sits beside me, Saul and Wyatt in front of us. Chris is clad in his black and royal blue dirt bike gear, holding a glass of water. In front of him is Saul, holding his M4 in his lap. On the M4 is an Acog, a drum magazine inserted in the Maxwell.
On the right side of the rifle is a mini flamethrower. Beside him is Wyatt without his gear, his dirty blonde hair almost covering his eyes. Chris lays a map on the table separating us, a map of North America. "So where are the fragments again?"
"I remember that there were two near the Hudson Bay." I state, my finger pointing to the Hudson Bay. My finger moves to the left of the Hudson Bay, over to Manitoba. "I'm pretty sure there's one over here. We'll just fly over it and see where the compass takes us."
My finger moves to the right of the Hudson Bay, over to Quebec. "One over here too. But ya'll can get that one, I'll go bring the Fragment to a lab or something after I get the one on the left."
Chris nods. "Sure."
Wyatt tells a joke about me going back to the Hexagon again, Chris and Saul laughs. After a moment, Chris quiets down, and Saul's laughter cuts off like he forgot where he was. That was weird. "You remember where any of the other ones are?"v Wyatt asks, putting his black and white dirt bike boots on the table.
With a shake of my head, I seem to disappoint everyone. "After we get this fragment on the left, I think I'll take a break while ya'll get the other one." As I say this, my phone starts to buzz.
I excuse myself, and walk out of Chris's room. "Hello?"
"Landon. Have you reviewed those missiles yet?" Liam asks, his voice speaking through the phone.
"Nah."
Liam pauses. "Okay, just make sure to do that. But that's not why I called."
I tilt my head, looking through the hallway, making sure no one in there. "Why'd you call then?"
"I'm taking a vacation. I'll have someone fill my role while I'm gone, it's been cray this past month. I think we all need it, If you'd like to come you're welcome."
"I'm still trying to find the Blackstone Fragments."
"The others can do that for a while. We'll just take some time off and resume our earlier affairs." Liam states, a page flipping in the background of his location.
"If you say so. Where we gonna go?" I ask, starting to walk to my room to gather my things.
"Probably Lake Tahoe. You have some houses there right?" He asks, I confirm. "Great. Tell me when you'll depart, just make sure to review those missiles first."
"Ight." My finger moves to hang up the phone but Liam interrupts me.
"Make sure to tell James he's invited too." With that, he hangs up the phone. Some downtime would be nice, they'll get the fragments near the Hudson Bay, and then I continue. After about twenty minutes, an officer guides me to the deck.
He shows me a brand new, state of the art combat missile. "This thing could take down a sky ray, Blackvale armaments just made it." After reviewing it, the missile seems to be good, just can't really tell. Not too well versed in that stuff. After asking an officer to help me get to California, the officer tells me to get into a jet.
I get in the jet, and a pilot is already inside, and turns the jet on. "Where'd you like to go today, sir?"
"Nearest airport near Lake Tahoe, California." He nods, before passing me a pilot helmet.
"You'll need that, sir."
Without another word, the engine starts.