CHAPTER III

  OCTOBER 19TH, 12:14 A.M.

  FRANK

  “Hit him again! Hit him again!”

  The crowd roared as another blow landed. More strikes, more screaming. The fighter went down. Rabid cheering ensued from some, others, utter disappointment. The difference lay with their bets.

  The ring was centered in the room, surrounded on all sides by a packed house. One bright light cast down on the mat, leaving the rest of the place dimly lit. Bookies made their rounds, collecting money from unlucky gamblers. Alcohol flowed heavily. Not your typical entertainment, certainly not legal either. But a lucrative form of it, if played right. For most people involved, anyway.

  Frank stood by the corner of the room, not to participate in the fighting, nor in the revelry, but as a bouncer. Most of his nights were spent watching people make and waste a fortune. Some beat themselves to death, others drank themselves to it. He didn’t like the job. In fact, he hated it. It just happened that Frank was a very large man, and his presence alone was enough to ward off unruly drunks. His job would be standing still and looking tough most nights. The more he could avoid conflict, the better. The job was a source of income, nothing more.

  Frank was a very conscientious person, who valued his mental state and collectiveness above all else. It had been a rough few years for him, however. Same with just about everyone else there. He just chooses a different way to pass the time.

  “Yo, yo, yo! Check this!” the DJ took to the microphone, halting all conversations. “The fucken president just got fucken taken out! Are you fucken serious in here?!”

  Uproarious celebration erupted. Obnoxious air horns blared over the speakers, constantly repeated before it even had a chance to finish as the DJ slammed the button. Drinks flew. Bottles sprayed. The floor shook from the delirious jumping.

  Frank’s eyes went wide. The news shocked him. Regis was dead. He didn’t share the same enthusiasm as the rest of the club. He knew what this entailed. He understood the severity of the situation. Just nine months ago, Regis made a decision that would define history. After years of major conflict between the United States Supreme and the Republic of Asian Territories, Regis determined that the war would have to end and detonated nuclear bombs over every country apart of the Republic, including any country that aligned with them in the war. The move did end the war, but effectively crippled the world, leaving the U.S.S. as the last remaining superpower, and the rest of the globe in shambles. Some countries were left in poverty, some completely destroyed, now a lawless land, where nothing but violence and survival remains.

  Bad memories began to flood back. His time in the war was mired by loss. And his own failure. He didn’t want to think about that now. He couldn’t. Frank just had to get through this shift.

  The drunk clubbers continued their partying, lining up at the bar for more substance to inebriate themselves with.

  “Yo, yo! Whoever had money down on the fucken president getting assassinated, put your fucken bottles up!” Airhorns blared. Frank hated that guy.

  /

  “Seventy, seventy-five, eighty…”

  The manager counted out tips evenly, distributing them to the employees before they left for the night. Or in this case, the morning. Light began to peek through the boarded-up windows. The hours weren’t ideal in this line of work.

  “Hey, can you believe that?”

  A fellow bouncer leaned over, striking up a conversation with Frank.

  “What?” his deep voice rumbled.

  “The president got assassinated,” he clarified. “That’s pretty crazy huh?”

  Frank mumbled in response.

  “Good riddance, I say,” the coworker continued. “He had it coming.”

  “What is he still doing here?”

  The manager pointed out a patron, still sitting at the bar. He was visibly intoxicated, talking the ear off a bartender who was cleaning the drink glasses.

  “Frank, can you take care of him?”

  Frank approached the guest. He was a regular at the club. A regular overstayer as well.

  “Ohohoho,” he cackled. “Frankie!”

  “Benny.”

  “Good to see you man,” he slurred his words.

  “We are closed. You must leave,” he said, his deep voice rumbling.

  “It’s okay, I’m just talking to the new guy.” The bartender nervously looked away. “Figured I should get to know him. Hey, you’re gonna love Frankie here. He’s a big ole guy, but don’t let that scare you. He’s like the dude from Green Mile.”

  “Hey!” the manager yelled over. “Last call was hours ago! Get out of here!”

  “Whatever man, fuck.”

  “Please do not swear.”

  “Oh right,” Benny chuckled. “Hey, new guy. ‘Nother thing. Don’t swear around Frankie. He doesn’t like it.”

  “Time to go.”

  “Alright, alright. I’m going. And he doesn’t like conjunctions either!” he yelled back at the new bartender. “You can say it, but he doesn’t!”

  Frank escorted the man through the club and out the door. Benny snapped while making finger guns at him.

  “I’ll catch you later, big guy.”

  Frank grunted as he watched the drunk stumble away. Soon, he was gone, and Frank was alone. His mind had been swirling all night. Regis was dead. The man he once served during The Great War. He found himself not remorseful over his death, nor grateful. Rather, he deliberated the state of the country. The consequences would be severe. He felt like he needed to do something, more than hide away from his problems. It was all too much to process right now.

  “Hey, here’s your tips.” A fellow bouncer handed in a stack of cash before heading out into the parking lot. “You’re truck still on the fritz or are you alright?”

  “It is fine,” Frank dismissed. “You may go.”

  The bartender nodded before getting into their car.

  Frank entered his worn-down truck, sitting with the car off as he thought. Or tried to. His brain was cluttered. He needed to organize himself. Get his mind in order.

  His journal.

  In the glove box of his truck, he pulled out a rugged, brown, leather backed journal. He would write in it often, used to, at least. It would organize his thoughts and help him to maintain mental fortitude, core values Frank held. However, he had neglected it for some time. He stared at it as if he was afraid of what he might find inside: reminders of the past.

  Soon enough, he opened the journal. Frank slowly flipped through the pages briefly skimming over previous entries. He flipped until he reached what he was looking for and he began reading:

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I predict today is an important day for the world. The President of the United States Supreme has been captured by a terrorist organization. They call themselves Javelin. I can only assume their intentions are to launch the planet into a global war. The population has grown beyond the capability of what his planet can support. Apart from that, we have been neglectful to her. She is poisoned and dying. There are those who are in support of Javelin. They believe that a war of great size will cut down the population, and ultimately preserve our future. The ends do not justify the means. There must be another way.

  Frank reminisced about the tension that gripped the world during this time, how it seemed at any moment the Earth could be launched into a global war unlike anything it’s ever seen. Reading about Regis' abduction reminded him of his old friends he had met during the war. It had been some time since he had seen or heard from them; Frank pondered if now was the time to get back in touch.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket. Frank raised the phone up to his eyes, its screen turning on, revealing the default home screen with no notifications. He unlocked it and opened his contacts. The first he saw was Tommy, last phone call nine months ago. He contemplated pressing the contact and calling him: With Regis now dead there are bound to be consequences, and Frank knew he would be smart to stay ahead of the conflict. Ultimately, he decided against it for now. He once again flipped through his journal, reading more of his past writings:

  An unexpected event has occurred. Despite the fact that

  Regis has been saved, he has declared war of the Republic of Asian Territories in response to his abduction. There is no evidence to support this. It is senseless warmongering. I feared this out of Rayshe, but I did not foresee that Regis would do this. All that I had hoped for has been destroyed. Many nations have already declared allegiance to the R.A.T. This effectively has started another world war. This will be nothing short of catastrophic and deadly.

  A journal entry just before the start of The Great War. A war that resulted in over a billion deaths, and that was before the bombs. Regis made that crucial decision to bring the war to an end and ensure that there would never be another one. It destabilized the world except for the U.S.S., creating a hellscape for so many people. This decision polarized the country, many in favor, many against. Frank may have been on the other side of the launches, but he didn’t see himself as fortunate. He wasn’t grateful, despite what Regis thought. Many people weren’t. The club’s reaction to his death was indicative of that.

  Reading through that entry reminded him of a name. Rayshe Hall. A name he hadn't thought of for some time but now more than ever is a critical one to remember. The former Vice

  President of the U.S.S., and as of last night, now the current President. Rayshe was a very dangerous man. Now, equipped with a platform to fuel his ambitions, there's no telling what he would do. Frank continued reading that entry:

  Perhaps, if I wish to make a difference, I too, should act. I oppose death, but I do understand that sometimes one must do what must be done to ensure the safety of others. Although I believe this war was started under false pretenses, perhaps there is some merit to Regis' accusations against the R.A.T. After all, they are no stranger to corrupt political tactics. And if I were forced to choose which banner to believe fights the just fight, I will choose the U.S.S. It is where I live, but most importantly, it is where Sienna lives. I will do whatever it takes to ensure her safety. I shall begin training.

  Sienna, his daughter. Frank's arm dropped to his side, bringing the journal with it. He immediately determined that he was to go see her. It had been too long. He needed to speak with her.

  Frank turned his keys in the ignition. The truck struggled, but eventually came to life. He put it in drive a began his trip to see Sienna. Traffic flowed through, to and from. Patchy, dull grass and dying bushes decorated the median, with trees on both sides of the road. Frank made his way in silence, the truck cab filled with the hum of the engine and the sounds of the road underneath the tires.

  Eventually, the trees disappeared and were replaced by the brick and concrete of buildings as he got into town. Traffic increased as he passed lots filled with cars, bordered by strips of stores and restaurants. Gas stations were packed, lines out into the street of cars preparing for the worst. Grocery stores swarmed with people buying out the inventory. Millions of U.S.S. citizens strongly opposed Regis and would undoubtedly take to the streets in celebration of his death. The other majority would undoubtedly meet them. There was a thickness of suspense in the air; everyone knew that within a matter of hours, maybe less, there would be violence across the nation. Blood would be shed, and lives would be lost.

  As Frank continued to drive, he would see the military and police already set up, anticipating riots. Large, armored vehicles took position in a short patch of land that separated buildings. They were arranged in a wall, creating a temporary encampment in the middle, with tents and lights spread throughout it.

  Just beyond the camp, Frank turned into a side road, where the concrete and metal of buildings were once again replaced by green of trees and grass. Just on the edge of a forest, a dirt path split through it, which Frank turned onto, driving through slowly as his truck wobbled and bumped along the uneven terrain. He drove in about a quarter of a mile before he parked his truck, removing the keys from the ignition and getting out. His boots hit the gravel and dirt of the road below him, making a faint crunch as he planted his feet. Frank investigated the forest, listening to the faint sounds of life around him.

  He began forward. The ground replaced with grass and roots as he left the dirt road. He minded his steps, walking at a slow pace. Eventually, just after rounding a tree, he could see his daughter. She stood just as tall and as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Strong and unwavering, despite the harsh elements of the world wearing on her. Frank couldn't help but smile when he saw her. He had been avoiding seeing her for a while, afraid to face his emotions and look within. But now, he needed her to help bring them out. Only with her help would he be able to decide for himself what needs to be done.

  Frank drew closer to Sienna. She stood in the same spot, waiting for Frank to come to her. Finally, he stood just about a foot and a half in front of her. Standing below Frank was a gravestone.

  Sienna Tolomongo

  Daughter and friend, gone too soon.

  Rest in Peace

  Frank let out a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before he spoke to her.

  "Hey Sienna," he said, his deep voice rumbling softly. "I know I haven't come to see you in a while. Things have been hard for me lately." Frank scratched his beard, trying to come up with the right words.

  "I came to see you today because... I think some bad things are about to happen." He put his hands together, shuffling them around as he spoke.

  "Someone got the President. I do not know who. But Regis is no longer with us. I do not like that I feel this way, but part of me feels at peace. In a way, it makes me feel like you have been avenged. He was the man who started that war, and that is what took you from me." Frank said shakily. He took a breath and recouped himself before continuing.

  "But I know I should not feel that way. Vengeance is a fool's game; it will not undo the past. Regardless, his passing will bring upon conflict. Many are preparing for the violence within the country, but I see beyond that. Rayshe Hall is now the president, and he has unrestricted power. I fear what he may do, and I feel as though I should do something. At least try." Frank looked off into the distance as he finished that sentence.

  "I think about what happened two years ago... often," he started again. "I failed to protect you; thus, I failed my purpose in life. I was too devastated to continue my duties, and that... wears heavy on my conscious. I had responsibilities to uphold, and I know you would have wanted me to continue to protect people, but I had lost myself. For some time, I had lost my way."

  Frank looked back down at Sienna's gravestone with newfound comfort. Finally, his emotions that he had battled with for the last two years were coming to the surface, and he was understanding them. Interpreting them and discovering the answers he longed to find. He determined what he must do. He was going to make up for it. Make it right. No more hiding away from the world, working as a low-life bouncer. He was better than that. Time to prove it.

  "I will be better this time. I have to be. I will give everything that I have to do what I was unable to do for you. I will take initiative, not wait for conflict to reach my doorstep before I act, for then it would already be too late." Frank settled his hands, holding them steady by his sides as he prepared to finish his monologue.

  "I shall promise you this: When the time comes, I will be ready. I shall act now." His voice trailed off as he finished that sentence.

  Frank reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened it to find Tommy's contact still open, and the dial button right underneath. He built up his resolve and pressed it. He held the phone still for a moment, unprepared for what he needed to say and frantically trying to come up with something. The phone faintly rang; Frank still holding it out in front of him, just thinking.

  "Frank?" he heard through the phone. Quickly, he put it up to his ear and spoke:

  "Tommy."

  "Good to hear from you again buddy. How you doing?”

  “I-, yes. Good. I am well.”

  “You okay?”

  “I am fine.”

  “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

  “No. I called you first, after all.”

  “Yeah, but you operate in strange ways Frankie.” He didn’t answer.

  “That was a joke, don’t read too far into it. Look, funny enough, I was just planning on calling you," Tommy said. His synthesized voice was indistinguishable over the phone.

  "You were?" Frank asked.

  "Yeah. I'm sure you've seen what just happened last night."

  "Indeed."

  "I don’t think you need me to tell you that this has foul play written all over it. More than your typical assassination, I suppose. Leo and I were there. Saw everything and somehow nothing at the same time. Not really sure what we’re going to do but we’re going to figure out who did it and why."

  "What do you plan to do?"

  "Right now, we need some answers. We're on the way to a sorceress friend’s place right now. We have some evidence, she’ll take a look at it and gave us a start, but Frank. I think you and I both know the ‘who’, in this."

  "Right," Frank said. He felt as if he was lagging behind in the conversation. A brief moment of silence allowed him to correct this: "Rayshe" he said.

  "Exactly. We can’t prove it yet. That's why we need to find out our next move, fast. Dig up something. Rayshe is a slimy little b word, fits the bill that he would do something like this. The why is worrying. He’s planning something."

  "It is worrying," Frank replied. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. He overlooked preparing his thoughts for this phone call.

  "Look," Tommy said. "We could really use your help.

  Whatever you can do."

  Frank took his time before his answer. He knew he wanted to say yes, but regardless, he let the gravity of the decision sit within for a moment. He looked down at Sienna below him. Her grave looked back.

  "Absolutely," he finally said.

  "Glad to hear it buddy. Leo and I are almost at the place now. Care to join us?"

  Suddenly, an idea shot into Frank's head. He knew what he wanted to do next.

  "No."

  "Oh... Uh, alright."

  "I have a plan. I will contact you later."