Chapter Text
It had been over three days since Michael Ford had returned home after coming back from the war. His wife was relieved to see him still alive, albeit covered in blood; clearly, he had been in a gruesome firefight and had sustained injuries himself, although his wife hoped that the blood was from his enemies rather than his own.
Michael was sitting in the living room, sipping a mug of tea which his wife had made for him the moment he got back home. He was a middle-aged man, in his late 50s, with short, greying hair. He had a well-shaved stubble, which contrasted with his nature as a trained veteran in the military, and was dressed in casual clothing which included a light grey t-shirt, blue jeans and a black baseball cap.
“So, Jessica,” He said, as his wife looked up to him, a curious glint in her eyes, “any more news on the war?”
Jessica went over to turn on the television, which was sitting on a glass unit. After switching it on, she flicked through several news channels, hoping to find one that would keep them up-to-date on the war. After some searching, she found a report on one of the channels describing how two soldiers had been killed, although they weren’t in combat at the time. Someone had murdered them in cold blood. Jessica was just a few years younger than Michael, with long blonde hair that she let down to her shoulders. Her eyes were emerald green, and she was dressed in a light blue polo shirt and dark grey jeans.
Michael looked down at his knees, a single tear in his eye; he knew some of these men, as he had fought alongside them several times. However, he understood this was one of the consequences of war.
“Our sources tell us that this was the work of a member of the armed forces, Lieutenant Michael Ford,” The reporter said, looking down at a piece of paper on the table in front of her. What was on the paper was invisible to the camera, but it likely had something to do with the deaths of the two combatants.
“Our local law enforcement are currently on the hunt, hoping to bring Ford in for questioning,” the reporter continued. She looked up from the paper, which she pushed aside, out of view from the camera. It was as if she was trying to hide the paper, and whatever was on it, from prying eyes.
“So, now I’m on the top ten most wanted list,” Michael said, shaking his head in the same manner one might do if they heard someone tell a very bad joke. He grabbed the remote off the table and switched off the TV, not wanting to hear any more.
Jessica looked towards him, a frown forming on her face. She knew Michael was innocent, but needed evidence to prove it, and she needed to do so as soon as possible in case the police came knocking on their door at any moment.
And that moment soon came. Michael was just finishing his tea when he heard a loud knocking on the door. “OPEN UP!” A man called out, banging on the door a second time, “Michael Ford, are you in there?”
Michael, knowing he had no other choice, got up out of his chair and walked towards the door and opened it, revealing several officers standing outside, some of them armed with assault rifles. Michael knew they wouldn’t shoot him unless they had no other option, however, as he had friends who worked for the local law enforcement.
“Are you Michael Ford?” The lead officer asked, looking at Michael with a stern look on his face. Michael couldn’t see the officer’s eyes, as they were obscured by dark, reflective sunglasses.
“Yes, I am. And who might you be, officer?” Michael answered, trying to figure out what was going on; he had been accused of murder, and now had armed police right outside his front door.
The officer removed his sunglasses, revealing icy blue eyes. “My name is William Jones. I am investigating the murders of two soldiers who were killed recently, although I assume you know about that,” Officer Jones replied. Michael examined the man from top to bottom; there was something fishy about him, but he couldn’t quite work out what.
“Can you move aside, please?” Officer Jones asked, looking behind Michael as though he were looking for something in particular.
Michael moved aside, allowing Jones inside. Officer Jones signalled for the other men to remain outside, making sure no-one could get in or out.
“What are you doing here, sir?” Michael asked, having the feeling William Jones was up to something. He watched as Jones walked through the house; he was clearly looking for something, but Michael wasn’t sure what.
After a few moments of searching, William turned around and pulled out a pistol, aiming it directly at Michael, who turned around after hearing the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked.
“Where is it, Michael?” William asked, a slight hint of anger in his tone.
“Where is what, officer?” Michael wondered. He had no clue what William was talking about, so he had no answer for his question.
William took off his cap, revealing medium-length black hair underneath, which he had tied back in order to keep it out of his eyes. “The folder, where is it?” He asked, growing more impatient; whatever this folder was, he desperately wanted it.
“I… I don’t know what folder you’re talking about, officer,” Michael answered, getting even more suspicious of the officer in front of him.
Unfortunately for him, William knew he was lying; Michael did know about the folder, he simply wasn’t telling him. William walked up to Michael and punched him in the side of the face, knocking him onto the ground. “Tell me where it is!” He shouted, grabbing Michael by the collar. He slammed Michael onto the wooden table, knocking cups and ornaments onto the floor, which shocked Jessica, who was now hiding behind the sofa.
“Ok, Ok; I gave the folder to one of my friends, colonel Daniel Ross,” Michael answered. William let go of him, knowing he was being truthful this time. He walked away from the table, where Michael was still lying, and headed out the door, closing it behind him.
Michael struggled to get up, his back and legs aching from the impact of William throwing him onto the table. He grabbed his glasses, which had also been knocked off the table, and put them on.
Jessica got up from behind the sofa, walking over to her husband, who was sitting on the table, unable to stand fully. “Are you Ok, babe? Who were those guys?” She asked, looking towards Michael with concern. Both of them knew something was up, but they didn’t know what; a reporter hiding a piece of paper, an officer violently attacking him without reason. Something was very wrong.
“I… I don’t know, Jess,” Michael replied, trying to work out what was going on, why he had just been attacked by police officers despite not doing anything to them, “That man, though, William Jones. I’ve seen him before, but I can’t remember where.”
“Do you… do you think he could be involved in the deaths of the two soldiers?” Jessica wondered, sitting down on the sofa and reading the weekly newspaper.
“Perhaps, Jess. I also have a suspicion about that news reporter, how she hid that paper from view,” Michael said, managing to slowly get to his feet. He went up to his room and put on his military outfit, making sure to take his assault rifle and pistol with him; if he was now the most wanted man in the country, he had to defend himself somehow.
“Hey, I’m coming with you!” Jessica told him, as he opened the door. Michael, knowing Jessica was an ex-cop, allowed her to tag along. As she walked towards the door, she picked up a pistol which was hidden on a shelf underneath the table. The two of them left the house, with Michael closing the door behind them and locking up.
“Now, first thing’s first; we need to go to my friend, Daniel Ross’ house, and warn him that he is in danger,” Michael said. Jessica didn’t say a word, and followed him through the city towards a small, brick house which was at the far end of a narrow alleyway.
Michael knocked on the door, waiting for a response. None came, so he knocked a second time; still no response. He was starting to get worried for his friend, and needed to warn him ASAP. He grabbed his pistol and shot the lock before pushing the door open.
The moment he entered, his eyes widened at the scene in front of him; Daniel Ross was lying on the ground, covered in blood. There was a gunshot wound in his chest, and he wasn’t breathing.
“What happened here?” Jessica asked, looking horrified at what she saw. She looked up at her husband, who was closing his friends eyes with his hand and saying a prayer; Michael was a religious man who visited the church once a week, often praying for the war to end.
“I think it’s clear; William came in here, looking for the folder. As soon as he found it, he shot Daniel dead,” Michael replied, getting to his feet. He knew the folder was gone, and all the information on it was now in the hands of the enemy.
“What was in that folder, anyway?” Jessica asked, knowing the folder was important in some way.
“Names, Jessica,” Michael answered, wiping tears from his eyes, “That folder contains the names of soldiers who served alongside me. I wanted to keep a record, make note of any who were killed in action.” His mouth opened slightly; he knew his friends were in danger, and he had to save them fast.
“So, why would someone like him want a list of names?” Jessica asked, feeling confused over the fact someone would steal such a thing, but she already knew the answer; whoever wanted the folder wanted the soldiers out of the way, and had hired William to do so.
“Someone’s hunting my friends, Jessica. We need to find out who, and why,” Michael replied, as he and Jessica left the house. They travelled through the city, hoping to find more evidence as to what was going on.
After a few minutes, they spotted someone enter an old building; it was William Jones. They followed behind him, making sure to be far back so he didn’t notice them. They had entered the lobby of an office block, and continued following William as he climbed several flights of stairs up to the top floor. They crouched down behind a potted plant in the corner of the room, hoping they wouldn’t be seen.
William, after checking to see if the room was deserted, walked over to a desk and sat down in front of a computer screen. Michael and Jessica tried to see what he was looking at, but he was obscure by several other desks behind him.
William whipped out his pistol and fired it at a desk next to him; he knew they were hiding, and wanted them to show themselves. Not wanting to get killed, Jessica and Michael got out from their hiding spot and walked into the centre of the room as William got to his feet, turning off the computer so they couldn’t see what he was looking at.
Michael had pulled out his own pistol, and a firefight ensued in the officer. Papers went flying everywhere, computer screens were smashed and chairs were ruined by the gunfire.
Knowing a gunfight wouldn’t settle matters, Michael and William engaged each-other in hand-to-hand combat. Both men were experienced in such things, so it was unclear who would come out victorious. After just a few minutes, William managed to push Michael through one of the windows, making him fall several feet. However, Michael managed to grab a flag pole just before he reached the bottom, hanging on for as long as his hands would allow him. He soon let go, however, as William fired down on him, and fell down onto the roof of the lobby, making sure to control his landing so he didn’t gain any serious injury.
Michael ran across the rooftops of the city, William Jones chasing him on the streets below. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, swinging from street lamps, flagpoles, and other things he could hang onto the traverse from one roof to the next.
After swinging from one of the street lamps, he crashed through the glass window of a shopping mall, frightening several customers as he landed on the cold, stone ground. He got to his feet and ran through the mall, hearing the sound of gunfire behind him. William Jones was starting to catch up with him, firing his pistol but missing each time.
William soon ran out of ammo, and charged towards Michael, making the two of them flip over a railing and onto a table below. They had landed in the mall’s food court, now engaged yet again in a fistfight. Several customers fled from the scene, not wanting to get caught in the middle.
William pulled out a knife from behind his black long coat and slashed Michael across the leg, making him fall down in pain. Michael got right back to his feet and pushed William, forcing him against the counter of one of the food stalls. The two of them jumped over the counter and ran into the kitchen, where they continued their fight, using various utensils as weapons. From one of the other stalls, a female cook was watching the fight, retreating back into the kitchen.
Michael managed to knock William’s knife out of his hand and picked it up, using it as his own weapon. Just as William was about to hit him with a heavy frying pan, Michael slashed him across the face with the knife, creating a deep cut. William held his face in agony, falling down onto his back as Michael strolled towards him.
“Who sent you, William?” Michael asked desperately. He reassured the man that the cut would heal over time.
“The.. the president of this country sent me. Why, I cannot say. He never told me, that’s the truth,” William replied, his voice weak. Michael got up to his feet and, without saying a word, left William behind. He didn’t care what fate would await William, whether he lived or died. All he cared about now was working out what the president’s motives were and putting an end to his crimes.
He left the mall, running towards the entrance where Jessica met up with him.
“Michael, are you alright?” She asked, as Michael came running into her arms. She let go of him, checking him over for any signs of injury. There were only a few minor cuts, nothing serious at all.
“I’m good, thanks,” Michael replied, panting for breath. He and Jessica walked away from the mall, looking back to ensure William wasn’t following them, “I have gotten some more information: apparently, William was sent by the president. We need to find out what he’s doing and why.”
Jessica agreed with this, and the two of them travelled through the city, looking for any new information that could be useful to them.