240 The Hard Truth
After the time at the YMPA, I had another thing beating in my head. But it is far inferior to the stress I had during chasing the convoy.
That dumb trick.
Although this time, Greg headed to my house, because Mom found it quite a problem coming back at like eight. She knows I’m going to Greg’s house, but she doesn’t know the actual reason.
A knock sounded at the door. I rushed out of my room, steadily running down the stairs, before I opened the door.
There was no surprise in seeing him, being the fact it was planned. Greg walked through and gave a brief gesture with head up the stairs.
I nodded, and we went up.
We entered the room, and with no time to waste–before the door even closed–he pulled out his secret computer, and his mouth opened for a long presentation.
“Alright, so I looked at any sort of secret bases in Mexico that might be a part of some sort of spy mage agency,” Greg said.
“Did you find any?” I asked him.
.....
“No, but I have a few clues. It’s better to have two brains than one working together. It’s like being a detective.”
“Except a crime hasn’t been committed yet, and we’re trying to prevent it,” I clarified, which he followed with a shrug.
He sat down on the bed, and the creaks added to his settlement. “What’s the first clue?” I asked Greg. He chuckled. “This van, this van right here.”
“What about it?” I asked.
It was a forest green color, and it was probably big enough to hold twelve guys. It was a very cramped road, with many cars moving through the enclosed space.
“Is this a recording or is this live?” I asked Greg. “Recorded,” he returned. “I kept this on while I was at school, which was risky–not gonna lie.”
I nodded in agreement.
Suddenly, the van took a hard right to a clearer and spacious road. The buildings were still very popular in this area, but at least there weren’t many cars to spray the dust around.
“Alright,” I muttered to myself.
As they were driving, they took a dirt road which led them through many hills. But in doing so, more vans joined in on the fun. But the rest were black G-Wagons, which they seemed pretty comfortable on the dirt.
They went, passing by dirt-hills and small, thick bushes before they arrived at a building. It wasn’t high, and for a good reason, and there were about five black G-Wagons parked in a spear formation.
The forest green parked first, as men in these black vests exited the car. But there was nothing in them. More men approached outside their vehicles. But one vehicle that was third to last also had men walk out the door, but one of them held something.
A box that I haven’t seen since the day I came into the YMPA.
“The Armonk,” I muttered, feeling all the memories push against me like a whirling wind.
“Haven’t seen that thing in a long time,” Greg said with a chuckle. He shook his head, as he looked at the box. “Felt like yesterday, or maybe two days ago. I don’t know, it’s been a long time.” I nodded. “That box was built with a lot of power. I’ve seen nothing like that.”
At the front of the formation of G-Wagons, men exited the vehicle, including one man as well. “Mr. Drails,” I said, watching him.
“Hello, friends,” Mr. Drails said, waving his hand towards the men. They smiled and waved back with smiles and nods.
The van parked and three men climbed out and walked over, while two remained in the car. And when the one with white hair entered, I saw he was wearing a new uniform, one I have never seen before. It was a blue shirt and black jeans. His jacket had some more pockets on it, and a few buttons on the back.
“How are you guys? Well, I hope,” he said, with a chuckle. One man responded. “Somewhat,” he said. Mr. Drails laughed loudly, which made me frown. “Yeah, yeah, we’re alive.”
“That’s all that matters,” Mr. Drails said. “You guys have the Armonk?”
“Yes, as you can see here,” the man said, and the guy behind him raised the box-looking weapon and Mr. Drails smiled widely.
“Very good. I am glad to see it in your hands. It is a very useful weapon,” Mr. Drails said, and he clapped his hands. “Come in everybody, I’ve been waiting to have a conversation.” Mr. Drails gestured for them to follow him, and the team nodded. “Let’s go inside, shall we? I’m sure you guys need some drinks after all that stress,” he said with a chuckle.
“What drinks?”
“Nothing alcoholic if you’re worried about that,” Mr. Drails returned quickly, in which the camera instantly switched to the lobby of the base. It was a simple room, with a counter and a long desk, with a large table in the middle. “What were you guys doing with it anyway?” Mr. Drails asked. “I waited for that Armonk for a long time. Good thing one of my agents knows its location at all times.”
“And who would that be?” one of them asked, which Mr. Drails chuckled.
“Remember? Anne Denver?” he said, which they all nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “She is quite an interesting woman and I know you wouldn’t want to miss a chance to talk to her.”
“Why is that?” one of them asked.
“She is quite the powerful mage, and she knows many secrets about the YMPA. I think you’ll find her interesting,” Mr. Drails said with a chuckle. They nodded with her. “I’d like to know how she knows so much.”
“I don’t know,” he said, with a shrug. “She just has a knack for knowing things.”
“Clearly. Now, I heard you guys have the Xeno right now. Am I correct?” the man asked. Mr. Drails smiled and sighed, before he gave a quick nod to answer the man’s question. “Well, I guess that makes sense, considering what happened to you guys. But I wonder what you guys intend to do with it.”
“We don’t know,” one of the men answered.
“Well, I do have a suggestion for you, and I think you’ll like it,” Mr. Drails said with a chuckle. “We first need to ask for a truce with the BMO and the SAF,” Mr. Drails said.
“You mean enemy corporations in the MSTO?” the man asked in which Mr. Drails nodded.
“That is what I meant,” Mr. Drails said, and he scratched his head. “I don’t know. I think that’s a bit too dangerous. We have to be careful about these things. I mean, we are still enemies and we should stay away from the MSTO.”
“But they would be very important in our mission right now. Trust me, I have everything planned,” Mr. Drails said. “There are these five kids, one of my favorites, that I send on certain missions that benefit us. And I don’t mean you guys.”
“Wait, wait, what do you mean by that?” one of them asked.
Mr. Drails shook his head, and his hands, really specifying his answer. “Never mind,” Mr. Drails said, adding a chuckle to oppress the awkwardness.
“You must have something in mind for us. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so confident,” one of the men said, and he pulled out a glass of red liquid.
“Oh, I do,” Mr. Drails said, and he took a sip of the drink. “But you guys aren’t ready for it yet.”
“What do you mean? We brought the Armonk, even without the help of your ‘Anne’ friend. We want to be a part of your plan. You want to make friends with them. Why?” the man asked, getting up, his eyes steady and focused on Mr. Drails.
“In due time,” Mr. Drails said. “In due time. For now, let me show you around the base.”
Then the video stopped. I was confused. I was so perplexed. Why does he want to become partners with the BMO and SAF? Greg scratched his chin, his face indecisive. “Why?” he muttered.
“He said, in due time. That’s the only hint I got. I don’t know why. Maybe because of the war between the two corporations?” I asked. “Maybe he’s doing some sort of…maybe…I’m not sure.” Greg shook his head, and licked inside his mouth. “Why?” he repeated, this one with more trembles in his voice.
“He said he had everything planned, right?” I said, but Greg shook his head.
“Yeah, but what kind of plans? I don’t know,” Greg said. “Fulton is probably right. Your dad isn’t what he seems. He probably isn’t. But now we need to figure out what he’s doing, and we need to stop him while we’re at it.” I nodded with him. “What he said about having the Xeno. I mean, that’s obvious, right? We already have it.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. And he said we were going to be a part of this, whatever it is. I don’t get it,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I really don’t.”
“He said you and the team you’re in, Connor, are benefiting him. Was this not assigned by the YMPA directors themselves?” Greg asked. Now anger was beginning to boil inside of me.
“Well, that’s exactly the point. They don’t know, and that’s what makes me so angry,” I answered, and Greg nodded slowly. He patted me on the back, and then he looked at me. “It’s fine, Connor. We’ll figure this out. I just hope it isn’t what it seems,” Greg said, his eyes looking directly into mine.
“What, that we’re going to be used for his own personal gain? Or that he’s going to be using the YMPA’s resources for his own gains?” I said. “I hope so too.”
“I don’t know, but we will figure this out. I promise,” Greg said, and I nodded. “Now, go rest for a little while, and we’ll continue later.”
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