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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 17 of 29

Prime Directive

There was almost a percussion element to the rhythmic quality the sound of his boots made against the concrete floor. His eyes were focused on the double doors in front of him as his feet marched on a warpath. His consciousness acknowledged the fact that there were two guards keeping watch on the threshold. They stood there, armed to the teeth; fully automatic assault rifles slung across their shoulders. The Mercenary didn't care at this point. Killing them or anyone associated with Isis wasn't really an issue. He had half a mind to beat the living fuck out of that cunt and haul her ass to Trilby. Alias needed only her alive to keep his end of the bargain. Everyone else was secondary.

As he approached the doors, one of her grunts, a well built rat, stepped in front of the fox.

"Ms. Isis isn't seeing anyone right now so-"

Stepping in Alias's way was about the stupidest thing he could have done. Without batting an eye, The Mercenary curled his fingers back exposing the underside of his palm. Then in a flash drove his paw into the rat's muzzle. The rat's head snapped backwards as he fell against the door. His partner took a moment to realize what was going on before he readied his gun. In that moment, Alias brought his elbow across his jaw, savagely. Again, the sound of dislocating body parts filled the air as he fell to the ground next to the rat. Hardly missing a beat, Alias continued along his way, shoving the door open.

As he entered the lair of the beast, the door continued on it's trajectory, slamming against the wall it was connected to with a loud crash. His keen eyes found Isis across the room. She looked up from her computer as she saw Alias march toward her.

"I trust there's a good explanation for this intrusion." Isis started, blue eyes narrowed in anger. Alias didn't say a word but continued toward her. "You are supposed to be out taking care of-"

His black paws gripped the edge of her desk's corner, and with a mighty heave, Alias flipped the desk over and out of his way. As office supplies crashed to the floor, along with the sturdy desk, Isis gasped and backed away in shock. In a blur, a paw snapped to her neck, crushing down on her throat, slamming her mercilessly against the far wall.

Holding her in place, Alias leaned in closer, exhausted rings around his tired eyes growing deeper each day. The red veins of sleep depravation pulsated with utter rage against the contrast of the whiteness of his eyes. "You sent us there, no warning, nothing." His dark voice snarled at her, upper lip curling in anger, ears laid back as if in a standoff. "I've killed people," he spoke slowly, feeling Isis's pulse increase as he spoke, "for less! She might be walking with a fucking limp for the rest of her life because of you!" His hostile acidic voice burned through the air. "All I need is one more reason to snap your fucking neck!"

The siamese's white paws clasped around his, struggling desperately to relieve the pressure Alias's thumbs created. After a moment, she stopped, looking back at him. "I'm... impressed..." Isis croaked out, then a smile grew slowly across her face, causing a new firestorm to spark within the young fox.

"Impressed? You're impressed?" He snarled in an acidic tone. "We were out there getting our asses shot off, and you're impressed?" Slowly, his fingers began to crunch around her throat. "Go on..." He taunted. "Give me a reason to kill you, just one fucking good excuse."

Isis again shifted around, giving her as much room as as Alias would allow. "You passed... the test..."

As her words registered within him, Alias's eyes narrowed. "Another one of your 'tests'?" His arm began shaking with fury as rage boiled within him. Shoving her harshly against the wall, he let go backing away.

Isis's paws went to her neck, coughing, trying to rub away the soreness as Alias stormed away from her, taking everything in his system not to go ahead and kill her for openly lying to them.

"I needed..." Isis explained, swallowing painfully and recomposing herself. "I needed to be sure you were right for the job." At this the black fox turned around sharply, missing the feeling of his overcoat moving in a delayed reaction. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to explain myself."

Even though Alias said nothing, the room was deafeningly loud from the sound of his pulse pounding like a drum and the harsh whistling sound made as he breathed in deep, trying to calm himself.

"You're right." The feline confirmed, walking over to her capsized desk, stooping down to pick up a few papers. "I wasn't honest, but for good reason. You see, there is this new player who has come to recent notoriety." Once she had a few of the scattered papers in her paws, she stood back up, walking carelessly over to Alias, offering him what she held. "Ironically, I don't even know the name of said player. What I do know, is that he or she has been quite difficult to deal with lately."

Looking at her paws, Alias snatched the papers from her. As his green eyes ran over the contents, he noted there were some field reports, and others were photos. The pictures were of different species, but they all had one thing in common; they were all male and wearing grey suits.

Exactly like the ones they had encountered Downtown.

"They've been ripping off a lot of the major players; moving in on Underground dealings. I'm surprised nothing has been done thus far." She continued as Alias looked over what she had given him, a sudden renewed interest in what Isis had to say. "Except for the fact that, we don't even know who's in charge."

This broke his concentration. He glanced up, looking into the Siamese's light blue, reptilian-like eyes.

"All we know is that they answer to someone only known as "The Shadow Player." Isis shook her head, as she crossed her arms, shifting the weight on her feet to one side.

At the mention of the name, Alias felt his mouth start to dry up on him. His throat seemed to stick together, making it hard to swallow. This had just gone from bad to worse.

Normally, if he had ended up unintentionally getting in a fire fight with some organization, he'd simply pay them a fair amount to forget the incident. It's just the way business was done here. This was different, this was the Shadow Player. He had not only stolen something from the bastard, but had killed his men. Somewhere, one of his thugs had a piece of rebar nearly six feet long impaled through his skull. Alias knew the Shadow Player was already hunting him for some reason. Now he had just sent a message letting them know he was somewhere in Arcadia. Never would he have ever gone after the Shadow Player's dead drop just to prove a point. It was reckless and stupid, but that was of little concern to Isis. She probably had no idea of Alias's previous involvement with the Player. Furthermore, it was news to the black fox that the Shadow Player had risen to such prominence that an Underground baroness such as Isis would be concerned. This was a whole new level.

He felt his grip on the paper go lax, fluttering to the floor. "So, you had us hang our asses over the edge and wait for a bite?" He asked in an hostile, dark tone. Reaching into his pocket Alias pulled out a crumpled up manilla envelope, folded and creased many times over. He then slung the document at Isis, who caught it with unnatural precision. "It wasn't even worth it! This was the only damn thing in the bag!" His voice boomed, anger resurfacing once again. "Something shitty," Alias shrugged, "an [Interdepartmental Memo](%5C) , or something, I don't know! I couldn't even understand it! A bunch of worthless jargon!" In all reality, Alias had only gotten a few pages in before he had given up on the attached memos.

"I wanted to send a message to the Shadow Player. I wanted whoever he or she is to know that not even their organization is invincible. Where I apologize for my lack of honesty, you proved yourself. You've got the contract." She cocked an eyebrow, cold eyes burning through Alias as her mouth turned slightly upward into a sneer. "Do you still accept, or should I contact The Nine Pillars?"

The ultimate question.

He could always say no. There was always the possibility that he could deliver Isis to Trilby and he could deal with everything from there. It was hard, it was so hard, to remind himself that somewhere, somewhere deep inside that body there was an innocent woman. Perhaps she wasn't even aware of her actions. Maybe she was living in a comatose state, unconscious during the past years. That would be the better case. The worst would be watching everything through your own eyes and not being able to do anything about it. Watching yourself commit the horrible atrocities Alias had read about in her dossier. Watching it like a bad movie, but feeling the recoil of the gun, the spray of blood when it mists about a victim. There was nothing he hated more than feeling out of control. The horrors of being a prisoner inside your own body were unfathomable by Alias. He personally would prefer a bullet through the head rather than live in that submissive state of being.

"No." Alias heard his own voice reply, almost without thinking. He actually tried not to think about what he was agreeing to, knowing that if Jenna was forced to walk with a limp for the rest of her life this thing would be the reason for it. Furthermore, if Trilby couldn't deliver and Isis escaped federal custody he will have directly aided a terrorist attack. The heat would be like none he had ever faced before, especially if Trilby dumped the blame on him, which Alias would expect.

It's only a job...

"You've got a deal..." He let his voice trail off. "But if you want my help, I want in on everything. I want details, times, the whole nine. I'm not walking into anything blind, not again."

"That's a tall order, Mr. Alias." Isis replied, in her trademark sultry tone.

He took a step toward Isis, invading her personal space. As he looked down on her petite female frame, he saw in her eyes no fear of him. Her eyes were cold, as if nothing existed beyond the darkness of her pupils.

"Then you contact your Nine Pillars." Alias encouraged in his own dark tone. "You get a second rate goon squad, who doesn't have the skills I do. Who needs more than one man for the job. You came to me." He reminded her sinisterly. "This is how I do things. This is why I've stayed alive while other mercenaries die." Shaking his head, Alias's green eyes narrowed. "So you either give me what I want, or I'm a memory."

"Alright." Isis replied quietly, but firmly after a few moments of deliberation. "I'll give you what you want." Her tail gracefully moved in slow, sweeping patterns behind her. She slowly walked over to her desk which had been toppled over, grabbing a few of the scattered papers. "Regardless of what you might think of me, Mr. Alias, I assure you I have the public's best interest in mind. Lets be honest with each other."

"That'd be a nice change..." He snapped, his words burning with anger.

Simply expecting another load of bullshit from Isis, Alias crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue.

"If attacking Arcadia and her citizens were truly my desire, rest assured I would have chosen a weapon much more suited for the job of mass murder. With a dirty bomb, a bomb like Michael has obtained for me, casualties outside ground zero will be minimal." She extended her slate, smooth paw, holding out the paper she gathered from the mess. "Ivan Mihailov." She stated plainly, as Alias unfolded the creased paper. "Runs a crime syndicate in the far east, although his influence goes well beyond the borders of his country." Slowly Isis began walking away from him, placing one foot gracefully in front of the other. "Mihailov is one of the largest investors in the PETRA Corporation." She spun on her heels, sharp, but dead blue eyes burning through him. "Venture a guess as to how PETRA makes their profit?"

PETRA.

Alias had heard of it before. He was more familiar with the shadow organization that moved the cogs of the PETRA machine; the Lambda Mafia. Mafia was a liberal term for what the organization actually stood for. It was more like a group of businesses run by the same family, working the system each in their own way. They formed something like a hive-mind; always with the best interest of the whole family. Alias knew that the power players of the Lambdas came from overseas, and most of the jobs Alias had done for them were in foreign cities. PETRA was a drilling company, and their primary export was petroleum.

"Oil." Alias replied, becoming wary. Alias wasn't stupid, he knew it was oil that made the world go round, and someone was lining their pockets with the money it generated. Trillions of dollars was something no one wanted to let go of, so when you fucked with its bloodstream, oil, someone, somewhere, very powerful and very rich would get very pissed. It wasn't CEO's and mafia don's anymore. This was a whole new level of government puppets buried deep and special interest groups pulling the strings on an international level. It was the front-line of the Invisible War; brutal, barbaric, and without mercy.

"Exactly!" Isis replied, eyes lighting up. "Our world is dependent on the money this nation generates every day. But lately, the value of our dollar keeps dropping, and so does the power of this nation. Another recession like the last one we went through..." Isis shook her head, not bothering to finish. "So, you can see my concern with making sure this doesn't happen. I'm sure many in the Invisible War agree with this line of thought. This nation has every resource at it's disposal except for the one we need: oil." Slowly, she started walking back towards him. "Ivan Mihailov's is a warlord, but hold a duel citizenship because keeps his true nature at a distance. He launders his money through his stocks. Start a dirty war here, support a terrorist cell there, it's all the same to Mihailov, and he believes I represent an organization that brokers weapons of such destructive nature." Isis continued, folding her arms. "He's purchasing the explosive for his own use, writing it off as a prototype fuel design for his PETRA company." Isis raised her eyebrow, muzzle twisting into a sinister smile. "His one fatal flaw? The stocks he holds are in his name in an effort to look legit."

"PETRA is a publicly traded corporation. They bid on their stocks on the open market every day." Alias jutted in, mentally connecting the dots. "And if the government had reason to seize Mihailov's assets as part of an investigation- Holy shit..." It suddenly clicked in Alias's mind. Selling a dirty bomb to terrorists was never Isis's true endgame. She was a slave to the nature of her purpose; keeping the nation the most financially stable in the world. "They'd be sitting on most of PETRA's stock... they'd control the oil flow."

"Intelligent as well as good looking..." Slowly a grin spread across Isis's face. "This nation would never face a difficult financial time again."

It all made sense now. The attack was only a means to an end.

"You want the Feds to make a bust." Alias said.

"Federal Agents can't touch Mihailov if he's alive." Isis shook her head. "Too much red tape, but if he were suddenly out of the picture and the media finds his body at the site of a terrorist attack against the nation." She shrugged, coy smile and look of evil gracing her face.

"Attack?" Alias raised an eyebrow. "Why would Mihailov risk that exposure? The Lambdas would lose so much money and clout over that."

"He wouldn't. Howsoever, if he were made to look like it was his intention to carry out an attack..."

A sting operation. Alias slowly nodded. "The bomb is never going to leave the dock, is it?"

Slowly, Isis raised her paw, resting it gently against his face. Her paws were cold, fingers like they were from a dead corpse. "And now he understands. Why do you think I needed Ms. Carrington's electronic ability? As soon as Mihailov obtains the weapon, you make sure he's no longer a threat. You've proven yourself useful, especially well trained at not being detected. Once the ordinance has been loaded, you will board their freighter and activate the detonator." The siamese gently rocked her head from side to side. "With a delay timer, naturally. As far as anyone else is concerned, accidents happen. Bad things happen to bad people."

That seemed dangerous and downright inconvenient. "That's pointless. Why not just put a remote on it?"

Her paw fell from her face, and she smiled again confidently. Alias paused for a moment, looking down at Isis. Her eyes studied him, but not with signs of lust or anything. It was weird, like they were trying to pull information from him.

"Michael assures me the only way the detonator can be triggered remotely is through a commercial satellite. It would send red flags over every agency server, spotlighting what was happening. Yes, I could have you kill Mihailov easily enough." She replied, a slight slant to her expression. "This way is more discrete, making it look like an attempted attack gone wrong. The government's response to a dirty bomb, accidental release or no, will be swift and thorough. So, I wouldn't suggest sticking around for any of the aftermath..."

"And you just assume I'd be willing to risk my life so you can become filthy rich?" Alias slowly took a step forward, eyes narrowed. "I don't know who you think you are. Maybe you could bat your eyelashes at Mick and he'd do some special favors for you, but that's not how I do business!" He snarled. "I'm still pretty fucking pissed about last night! Now you volunteer me to be at ground zero for your little heist?" Slowly, Alias shook his head from side to side. "I work for money. The more dangerous the job, the higher the price." He folded his arms. "No job is too dangerous, and for people like you who need something done they can't do themselves, no price is too high!"

Isis remained fixed for a moment. She didn't show signs of fear, but more of reverence and awe. "You are a strange one, aren't you?" Blue eyes squinting slightly as they studied Alias's face. "Different from the rest of your companions, so very different... How I'd love to see the way your mind works. The brain..." She shrugged. "A fascinating machine. A processor with information storage is all it truly is, but completely organic. Perfectly efficient. Each one so uniquely different from it's counterparts."

Anger and being pissed drained slowly from Alias, replaced by utter confusion laced with a little revolt. Could Isis be taunting him? "You want a hug or something?" He asked in a dry tone; void of any comfort. His mind flashed back to her behavior toward him earlier, her look of curiosity rather than seduction. It was just damned odd was the thing.

"I want you..." There was a pause. "...to set off that bomb for me." She whispered softly.

Alias leaned in a little closer, reminding himself that he was the one with free and creative thought. Not her, not Isis. "No less than forty percent on what Mihailov pays you for the merchandise. I think that's fair payment for the people who made this happen for you."

"Indeed... You're under the impression I need the money." Isis replied, her eyes narrowing, and a sly smile gracing her muzzle. "I guess I'm not used to having someone giving me orders." She took another step forward, body pressing slightly against his. "Is that your only demand... or is there anything else I can offer you?" She asked, the vibrations from her voice traveling across from her body into his.

Slowly, the black fox moved his paw to her wrist, still clutching the manilla folder with the Shadow Player's memo inside. Holding her still, he snatched the memo from her paw. If he risked his life to get that, he'd at least keep it as a trophy. Besides, it could come in handy someday. This Shadow Player had once again weaseled it's way into Alias's life; might as well keep any information about him.

"If I had the time," Alias growled in a low, dark tone, "I would have asked for it." He replied spitefully, then turned and began walking toward the door.