Samuel eased himself out of the small conference room and out into the long, well-lit corridor. About forty feet long, this imposing hallway housed all the above-board interrogation rooms that congress knew about. These were the spaces the NSA utilized when they had things like warrants and probable cause.

  They were also far from the ones in Alpha building on sub-level 4. Those clandestine black holes housed the off the book’s interrogation rooms. The ones that came with very little probable cause and even less human rights. And if he got caught right now, they were exactly where he would most assuredly end up.

  “Tell me again why I’m doing this?” Samuel asked his new friend as he neared the end of the hallway.

  “You’re doing this because if those people catch you. Everything about you will be erased.”

  “Erasing my brain vs erasing my identity.” He said with about as much enthusiasm as he would muster for a root canal. “Seems like that’s going to happen no matter how this all goes down.”

  “You’re probably right.” Tommy Evers said with a laugh. “But my way still leaves you with the ability to feed yourself.”

  “Point taken.”

  With that curt acknowledgement, Samuel stopped suddenly to covertly peer around the corner at both ends of the connecting hallway. To his right was a series of storage closets. To his left was a stairwell that led to the upper levels of the building. But more importantly, the office suites of Macro Cryptology.

  However, his escape route was currently being guarded by three of those twelve obstacles.

  “How many?” Tommy asked.

  “Three by my count.”

  “That tracks with my last sweep of the corridor.”

  “Well, as long as your count’s correct.” Samuel said sarcastically as he ducked back behind the wall and mentally went over a list of things that could go wrong with his current plan. That led to him going over how many things had already gone wrong and just how fucked he really seemed to be. “And I suppose this little toy is going to get me out of this mess?”

  “No.” Tommy said in a flippant, non-committal tone. “Not alone it won’t. No, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put all that training you’ve been doing over the last few years to an actual test.”

  “Training?” Samuel did his best to keep a straight face even though he was the only one standing in that section of the corridor. “What do you mean training?”

  “Really?” Tommy asked with as much sarcasm as the earbud’s speaker could audibly convey. “Are you really going to stand there and attempt to lie to me?”

  Samuel looked back down the corridor and then back to the three men standing in his way. For a second, he thought about trying to lie to what was essentially another completely sentient artificial intelligence. He pondered how many lies he would have to tell this thing to keep the past 12 years a secret. He imagined a lot.

  But in the end, now was not the time to lie. Not when aliens were out to get him.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I suggest you take all that sparring you’ve been doing for the past five years and put it to good use.”

  Shaken by just how well informed this entity seemed to be, Samuel looked down at his calloused hands and wondered if he’d done enough to prepare for this inevitable moment. Had he pushed himself far enough to escape his shortcomings? Maybe. Or maybe things were about to get real on an unprecedented scale and all his training would woefully come up short.

  Maybe. But then again, maybe not.

  “Fine,” he finally admitted after mentally going through the different fighting styles he’d studied. From boxing to ninjutsu, nothing seemed violent or quick enough for the current field of battle. One came close though, but there was a glaring problem. “But even with my Krav Maga, fighting three super-powered aliens seems like a stretch.”

  “Only one of them are super-powered.” Tommy said in a dismissive manner. “The other two appeared to be on the normal side of the spectrum.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Augmented humans tend to run a little hot. Nothing outrageous. Usually somewhere around 100 degrees Fahrenheit.”

  “100 degrees?” Tommy’s explanation was at once utterly believable and at the same time sounded like complete bullshit. “How do you know that?”

  “Will knowing the answer to that question help you right now?” Tommy made a tisk tisk sound over the earbud’s speaker.

  “No.”

  “Good,” he continued. “Now look down at Zheng’s little device.”

  Samuel lifted the baton up to his face and for the first time really examined the piece of technology. Lightweight and compact, the object was smooth to the touch except for the three slightly raised buttons at its base. Not wanting to activate anything prematurely, he asked. “So, what do the three buttons do?”

  “Well,” Tommy began. “You should consider them levels of irritation.”

  “Irritation?”

  “Yes.” The AI said. “Looking at the buttons from left to right, the first one signifies mild annoyance. The second one signifies when you’ve been pushed to your breaking point. And the last one is for when your patience has completely broken.”

  “Can I push the third button now?”

  “Funny.” Tommy snorted in an unnervingly human way. “No. The third button is instant death. So, unless you want to murder those three men, I would seriously think about dialing down that anger.”

  “Fine,” Samuel said in a whisper that sounded more like a groan. “Then what does the other two really do.”

  “The first one works like the slinger’s stun feature. When the baton turns blue, touch the mark and they’re out like a light.”

  “And the second?” Samuel pressed the first button, and the device quickly began to glow blue.

  “The second one is the reset button. Easy way to remember is when the baton turns white, not a memory left in sight.”

  “Reset button?” Samuel looked at the button but made sure not to press it accidentally. “What does that mean? Some kind of short-term memory loss?”

  “No. This is not a neuralyzer from Men in Black. There are no dials indicating time. There’s just a return to factory setting for the human mind.”

  “That’s not possible. The human mind doesn’t work that way.”

  “Silly human,” Tommy said with all the gravitas of Hal 9000 and Skynet. “You don’t know how the human mind works. None of you do. And I don’t have time right now to explain how it does. So, if you would be so kind, take out those three people and head for the nearest exit.”

  “Fine.” Mind racing with questions, Samuel looked down at the baton and winced. “Which one is the strongman?”

  “The one closest to the exit.”

  “Is there a backup plan?”

  “Not for in here.”

  “Fuck it,” Samuel said like a man finally accepting his fate. “Here we go.”

  Mind made up, the CERN scientist casually stepped out from behind the wall and into the dimly lit corridor. At first, the three men seemed preoccupied with something on their phones and hence paid little attention to him as he casually walked toward them.

  And for a second, Samuel thought that he might be able to just walk up to them unseen and spring his little trap. Of course, that all changed when he got within fifteen feet of the first one. Because it was at that distance when all their phones began to glow red. Red like a warning. A warning that made all three of them look in his direction.

  “Mr. Mosely,” the one in the middle said sternly. “What are you doing out here?”

  Thrown off by the mundane question, Samuel shifted his tactics and wondered if he could just bluff his way past them. “Just needed to go to the bathroom.”

  “Bathroom?” The man said as he looked back down at his phone and frowned. “I don’t think you need to go to the bathroom, Mr. Mosely. I think you need to answer for the Agent Zheng’s murder.”

  Upon hearing the word murder, Samuel had two distinct but related thoughts. First, these men somehow knew that Zheng had just been disposed of even though they were not in the room. And second, how these men knew of his death was completely irrelevant. Because when government agents asked you to answer anything, it never ended well.

  “Had to try.” Samuel said as he threw his body into the first agent. Not wanting to give the solid-looking agent a chance to counter, he led with a straight heel punch. This simple attack landed with the precise damage five straight years of training provided. Bones breaking, he followed that attack up with an elbow strike to the chin.

  Caught off guard by the brazenness of the scientist’s attack, the other two stepped back instead of forward to help their comrade. This momentary lapse of training allowed Samuel to grasp the back of the first man’s head and slam it down into the hard part of his knee. Upon impact, he heard the man’s cheek bone shatter.

  Consequently, he dropped like a bag of rocks to the highly polished floor.

  “Now,” Samuel said while still moving forward. “Who’s next?”

  A weird question given the fact that he knew exactly who was next. So, with his newly acquired baton glowing bright blue, Samuel kicked out with his right leg and caught the second man square in the chest. This violent blow caused him to fly back toward the door to the stairs with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.

  Stunned but focused, his intended target reached out quickly to catch the wounded man as he flew by. This out of place gesture opened a window for Samuel to twist his body to the side and thrust out his right hand. Baton glowing, he could see the side of the powered-up human’s back. Not wanting to miss, he took another step forward and began to lunge.

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  But as quickly as the opportunity presented itself, it disappeared as the man’s body twisted back around. Only, it wasn’t to try and block the small alien device. No, it was to throw the man he had just caught in mid air back at Samuel like his large form was a small rag doll.

  “Shit,” the scientist screamed as the body hurtled toward him with unnatural speed.

  Hoping to miss the brunt of the collision, Samuel allowed his body to roll with the man’s limp body as it struck him in the shoulder. Tumbling backward from the unbelievable force, he hit the floor with the same momentum as falling off an eight foot ladder.

  “Mr. Mosely,” the large man said in the same monotone voice as the middle agent. “You’re only making this harder on yourself. We don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I guess that’s true.” Head swimming from the collision, Samuel pushed himself up against the corridor wall to steady himself. “You just want to erase all my memories.”

  “And that won’t hurt you in the slightest. In fact, ‘you’ll’ never feel pain again.”

  “Wow. Is that a metaphysical joke?” Finding nothing funny about his current situation, Samuel still laughed anyway. “Let’s just finish this fight. Then, if I’m still alive, we can discuss the philosophy of tabula rasa.”

  “Tabula Rasa,” the large agent asked as he picked up the still moaning form of the first agent. “What’s that?”

  “I guess being an alien doesn’t exactly make you smart.”

  Ignoring the insult, the man hoisted the first agent’s body over his surprisingly normal looking shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Not responding, he hurled the man down the hallway like a human sized cornhole bag.

  “Jesus!” Samuel shouted at the same time he rolled onto his stomach out of instinct. Ungainly yet somehow effective, the scientist managed to dodge the human missile just before it went crashing into a small metal door. “Why are you using your friends as weapons?”

  “There not my friends, Mr. Mosely.” The augmented human began to stomp forward through the damaged corridor. “They’re humans.”

  Feeling like he’d stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone, Samuel scrambled back down the interrogation hallway for a brief respite in the action. Slightly panicked, he reached out for help from the unlikeliest of ‘people’. “Tommy. What do I do now?”

  “How should I know. I’m just a computer program.”

  Unamused at the ill-timed joke, he peeked back around the corner to see the alien/human reach down and pluck one of the men up like a flower from a garden. Feeling the weight, he decided that this body wasn’t the right fit for his current mood. So, the alien dropped the first agent and snatched up the next, slightly larger body. This one, it seemed, felt right.

  “Mr. Mosely,” the imposing figure said while curling the limp man like a dumbbell. “How many of your kind do you wish to sacrifice today? I count four so far.”

  “Tommy,” Samuel shout-whispered into the air. “That is not simple augmentation. He’s nothing like Zheng. How is he that strong?”

  “What are you talking about? Zheng was that strong.” The AI softly chuckled at the scientist’s limited imagination. “Or did you think only his hands were augmented?”

  Mind racing for a solution, Samuel peered around the corner again to see the mysterious agent sneering in his direction. Only, from a much closer vantage point.

  “So, if he’s the same as Zheng. Can’t you just zap him with that tone again.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Tommy said over the sound of lumbering footsteps. “Zheng was holding the device at the time. There must be actual physical contact for that thing to work properly.”

  “Figures,” Samuel said in a completely sarcastic free tone. “Then what do I do?”

  “Press the right button and hope you don’t get killed.”

  Completely taken aback by his current set of circumstances, Samuel took a moment to assess. First, the alien equivalent of superman was currently walking down the tiny hallway to murder him. And not just end his life. But possibly beat him to death with the corpses of two other NSA agents. Then, erase everything that made him... him. Not a pleasant prospect.

  And second, he reached up and touched a spot on his forehead where the wedding ring of the human bowling ball had clipped him. He rubbed the wound with his index finger and brought it down to see if there was any blood. There was. Not a lot, but enough to make the old him shudder.

  After all, up until a few years ago, he had never been good with things like dead bodies and free flowing blood. Escpecially when it was his own. Although, as the AI named Tommy had alluded to, that was a few years ago. And thanks to some highly evasive aversion therapy, not to mention some other more physically demanding training, Samuel Mosley had managed to shed such limitations in his character.

  Because now, the sight of blood or for that matter dead bodies meant very little to him.

  “Button three, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tommy responded, a little thrown off at the man’s callousness. “But like I said, last resort.”

  “Well, no offense, Not Foster. But I’m not taking any chances with a monster like that.”

  Committed to his murderous course of action, he poked his head back around the corner to see just how close his opponent was to his position. But instead of a man stomping down the hallway, he saw an agent’s body come hurtling toward him.

  “Jesus,” he cried out again as he threw himself back down the hallway.

  In front of him, the NSA agent’s form flew past the corridor’s opening like a bird swooping past a window. Shaken, Samuel scrambled back on his hands about fifteen feet before finally finding his footing. Standing up, he looked down at the baton. The device had gone inert from not being used.

  Hoping to remedy that, he pressed the third button and tiny little pin pricks of red light began to dot the entire surface of the weapon.

  “Remember,” Tommy said in a concerned voice. “When the device is active, don’t touch anything but the base. That shaft is an equal opportunity weapon. It will kill you just as quickly as Frankenstein.”

  “Good to know,” Samuel said under his breath as the device began to glow a macabre shade of crimson.

  Just then, as if on cue, the head of the other agent came swinging out from behind the corner about two feet off the floor. This strange sight was soon followed by the alien agent. Only he didn’t stop at the opening. He kept walking for a second, grunted slightly, then walked back into view. Only this time, he didn’t carry one dead body. He carried two.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little over doing it?” Samuel asked as he got into a fighting stance.

  “Not when that thing is glowing red, it’s not.”

  Ready for the monstrous form to throw another dead body in his direction, he was both surprised and horrified when the alien did no such thing. Instead, he raised the two dead humans up to his chest and brandished them like they were a horrific set of meat shields.

  “I should probably warn you though. That device needs to recharge for a full minute on that level. That means... you better get me with your first strike.”

  Smiling, the alien began a slow, measured walk down the corridor toward his eventual target. A target who now looked down at his trump card and found it slightly wanting. So, with the brain of a genius, Samuel analyzed his options and what the odds of him landing a perfect strike was given the size of the hallway and the obvious strength advantage of his opponent.

  What he finally concluded was he needed to take more than one shot at this behemoth.

  “What’s you name?” Samuel asked.

  “My name?” The alien pondered the question for a second before responding. “Well, this human’s name is Everet Johnson. But I don’t think you’re asking about my human name.”

  “Not really,” Samuel said taking a quick step backward. “I mean. How often do you get to talk to a real live alien?”

  “True,” the man said with a satisfied grin. “My true name is Albraxsis. And I work for the Arbiters here on Earth.”

  “Arbiters?” The name didn’t ring any bells, and he was quite sure Foster never mentioned it before his disappearing act. So, besides the standard Oxford definition, he couldn’t connect the dots. “I’m afraid that doesn’t mean much to me.”

  “It shouldn’t. Technically speaking, we have a strict policy of non-intervention with your kind. And if it wasn’t for the Consciousness Protocols, we would still be hidden.”

  “Consciousness Protocols?” Samuel asked more to himself than the killer currently closing the distance between them. “What are they?”

  “Ask your friend, Foster Evers.”

  Upon hearing the name, Samuel’s well controlled anger seeped through just a little. Enough so the next act of violence didn’t need that much working up to. “Trust me, asshole. I will.”

  “Really?” The agent said with a knowing smile. One that belied a very well-kept secret. “Well... good luck with that.”

  Unsure of what the crazy alien meant. Samuel took one more step back and placed his free hand inside the back waistband of his pants. Feeling what he placed there a few minutes ago, the CERN scientist let out a smile to match that of the secretive killer before him.

  “Do you know that Agent Pembroke was paranoid?”

  “Agent Pembroke?” The alien stopped moving forward and thought about the question. After a second, the name clicked in his complicated mind. “Oh. You mean the old fool Zheng used as cover to get to you.”

  “Yes,” Samuel said as he tightened the grip on the baton. “That old man.”

  “Why would I care if he was paranoid?” The alien lowered the two dead agent’s bodies about a foot. A horrific move that allowed him to both smile and sneer at his human prey. “But to honest, he probably wasn’t paranoid enough.”

  “Probably not,” Samuel twisted his foot and prepared his body to lunge forward. “But he was paranoid enough to help me kill you.”

  “What?” The man’s evil smile faltered slightly under the somewhat vague proclamation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well,” Samuel answered. “It means that Agent Pembroke never subscribed to the notion of surrendering his weapon. Not all of them anyway. Not even when he interviewed suspects.”

  “Surprisingly smart.” The alien said flatly. “Although a backpiece won’t really protect you from the kind of technology we possess.”

  “True, it didn’t help him.” Samuel’s face went from a visage of nervousness to one of a stone-cold killer. “But it will help me.”

  Clicking the safety off on the weapon he had procured from Pembroke’s dead body, the CERN scientist pulled out the Luger .380 semi-automatic pistol from behind his back and let off two shots before sprinting forward. Reacting quickly, the alien raised the two bodies upward to his face to protect his vital parts.

  A sound tactical move given the way they caught both bullets.

  But one that Samuel was hoping for because as soon as the alien raised their bodies to his head, his lower half became exposed. So, with the practice of an expert shot, he placed two more shots in the thing’s left thigh, and one more shot in the groin. And like he surmised, no amount of strength will stop someone from feeling the worst pain in their life.

  Or for that matter, collapsing from it.

  “Shit,” Albraxsis shouted out as the human part of himself reacted without thought and instantly crashed onto the tiled floor.

  Completely staggered from the viciousness of Samuel's attack, the once malevolent agent rocked back on his ass and allowed his human shields to drop to the ground. And as they hit the floor, the once docile man who followed Foster Evers and Justine Rushing around Elmira, NY lunged forward and struck out with the glowing red baton of death.

  And there was no raising his hands in time as the end of the device landed on the man’s chest. No last-minute attempt to dodge the strike. Only a flash of crimson sparks and a body twisting up in painful agony before quickly succumbing to the same fate as Agent Zheng.

  “That was messy.” Samuel finally said as he stood above the three bodies. “How many more did you say there were?”

  “Maybe six. But I wasn’t planning on such a high body count. Not with you anyway. I think we’re going to have to go with Plan B.”

  Before Samuel could inquire as to what Plan B was, sirens began going off throughout the entire building. This was followed by telescopic lights emerging from the ceiling that began flashing bright blue and red colors. And from his original NSA briefing, he knew that color pattern meant there was a bomb in the building.

  “Is there a bomb in the building?” Samuel asked as he hurried over the dead agents and made his way to the far stairwell.

  “A small one.”

  “A small one?” The scientist reached the stairwell, threw open the door and began taking the steps upward two at a time. “What do you mean a small one?”

  “I mean. A very small one. Barely enough to cause a set of scorch marks on the floor. But powerful enough to get people running away from it.”

  “Ok,” Samuel muttered upon reaching the next floor. “Then which way do I need to go to get away from it?”

  “Get away from it?” Tommy asked. “No. I need you to run to it.”

  “Run to it?” He stopped on the landing and looked up to the next level. The sign read ‘Lobby’. “What do you mean ‘run to it’? Are you trying to get me killed?”

  “Don’t be silly, Dr. Mosely. If I was trying to get you killed, I would have disabled the brakes in your car this morning. Or sent the wrong prescription to your pharmacist last month when you had the flu. Hell, I could have just let Agent Zheng end your miserable life if all I was looking for was your death.”

  “Then if not my death, what exactly are you looking for from me?”

  “Your help.”

  “Help with what?”

  “Saving the world.” Up above him, he heard the electronic locks disable on the stairwell door. “And before you ask a follow-up question. Remember, my little diversion will only last for about five minutes. After that, you’re going to have half the NSA looking to arrest you. And not to mention, your little augmented human friends. Each one of them hoping to have a little visit before killing you.”

  “So, what you’re really saying is I have no choice.” Samuel began to move toward the open door above.

  “Not at all, Mr. Mosley.” Tommy sighed. “You have a choice. Just not a very good one.”

  “Fine, you little shit.” He looked up toward the exit door and wondered just how in the hell he had been dragged back into this nightmare. Fucking, Foster Evers, he thought very loudly and angrily to himself. “But once I get out of here. We’re going to have a little talk.”

  “Understood.” Tommy said. “But right now I need you to run.”

  And as he did, Samuel could hear a loud explosion coming from somewhere above and to the right of his current position. An explosion that seemed a great deal larger than what the AI had referred to as just ‘a small one’.

  “What the hell was that?” He asked over a cacophony of thunder as he pushed open the door that led out onto a suspiciously empty lobby.

  “The first shot in a war for the planet, Mr. Mosely.”

  “War?” Samuel asked out of pure reflex. Then, after digesting the meaning behind the claim, he had to ask another question even though he was deathly afraid of the forthcoming answer. “But I thought you said it would be a small explosion?”

  “Compared to what I have in store, Mr. Mosely. That was a small explosion.”