The Robert, The Gregory and The Winstons

[Mister Karma]

Three key investors of A.N.G.E.L. have been the subject of speculation since 1999, just before the war hit the eastern front of the United States. Each with their own origins and reasons for involvement with the conglomerate, these investors helped to further the massive organization's goals in becoming the global superpower it was come to be known as during Operation: Fractured Ascendancy. Whether their involvement was voluntary or not is a matter that is up for debate, but the fact stil stands that they played a major financial role in A.N.G.E.L.'s operations. The Robert, The Gregory and The Winstons...

[Mister Karma]

Tales from New Haven
The Robert
The chill of the early March morning hung in the air like a heavy drape over the cramped ghettos of West Haven, as the brilliant purple and orange light on the horizon slowly crept in the eastern sky. The stillness of the slums’ silence coupled with the occasional car whizzing by, a neighbor’s dog barking, or a random curse word shouted to no one in particular was always soothing for the few who were awake and cutting through en route to their jobs. One particular car, a white Volkswagen Jetta, was headed to an area of the slums where the hills dipped down, to an area hidden away behind old mills and an old gas station. “Haven Petrol,” it was called, and it was one of the only few landmarks the residents knew of the quaint little building the car made its way to. Parking on the side of a stucco building, its cream and peach paintjob less than lackluster, a man in appearing in his thirties stepped out after a few moments of pondering. Super Discount Groceries, the bane of his existence, loomed over him, seeming much larger than it actually was. He sighed as he straightened out the few wrinkles that found their way onto his gray short-sleeved polo shirt. Young as he was, the man was already beginning to gray in parts of his receding dark brown hair, and he could feel a few more grays set in as he slowly approached the barricaded IN and OUT doors of the store. He fixed his gold rimmed glasses before taking his keys out of his pocket, removing the padlock that surprisingly no one dared to remove bolting the barricade to the ground over the night, and pushed it upward. A moment after unlocking the regular doors, he was inside. Another weighted sigh escaped him as he locked both doors and made his way to his office in the store’s back room. The store manager of Super Discount Groceries was doing this job for the better half of fifteen years, and each passing day provided no significant payoff other than the privilege to go home and stay home. As he sat down at his cluttered desk and pulled the day’s paperwork towards him, he sighed again, grimacing.
“This is my life,” Robert Marques muttered to no one in particular, grinning sadistically to himself. “I come to work in a shithole every single day, serve scumbags of every kind of species shitty groceries, manage ungrateful workers, and go home late in the evening to go to sleep and do it all again the next day.” He signed off miscellaneous paperwork verifying the previous night’s final numbers and hours used, setting it away into his out bin with a speed and efficiency that could only be summed up now as second nature.
“I tell myself, ‘Hey, this’ll be the week, I’m going to just toss my keys to Jack over there and let him deal with this hellhole, and I’ll go off and find somewhere else to work!’ I never act on it,” Robert continued as he soon segued into a silent chuckle. “I never do. Nowhere else in this godforsaken city would give me the opportunity this place did, even if the tradeoff is less work and less frustration. This is my moneymaker, this is my—“
A bark of laughter erupted from him as he tossed his pen straight into the trash, folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned his head back in hysterics.
“This place is a goddamn joke!” he laughed, turning in his swivel chair to next observe the rapideye security. All seemed normal, from inside the store to the carriage corral, to the parking lot. A group of darkly-dressed figures were sauntering through the empty lot, which was normal this time of morning in the ghettos of West Haven. Robert nodded with a silent “Kay,” before pushing himself out of his chair and doing his daily morning checks of the store. Things weren’t out of place, messes were cleaned up even if a harmless stain was left behind—good thing there was no company visit today!—and no one managed to sneak their way into the building over the night. As the manager made his way to the front end of the store, he looked out the front windows as if it were second nature, just to keep an eye on the darkly dressed group. A group of about five, all walking slowly through the parking lot on the other end of the store’s small property. He furrowed his brow for just a few moments; their choice of dress was substantially different from the usual colors of the street gangs that roamed New Haven. Flowing black robes with their hoods pulled over their faces, and unless the Bloods and the Crips were beginning to delve into Satanism to combat ANGEL, Robert nodded once with a simple “Hm!” They seemed to stop for a moment in unison before turning their heads towards him. The manager grinned and nodded again.
“I see you there,” he muttered. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed the emergency number. As he did, one of the hooded members lifted a hand, the loosely fitting sleeve rolling down to reveal a black, scaly arm, ending in a gnarled and dragon-like hand. Robert put his phone to his ear, only to be greeted with a busy tone. A busy tone…?
“Seriously? 911? Busy?” he sighed. His eyes were still on the group, but they had suddenly shifted closer to the building. Uncomfortably close. They were only a hundred or so yards away from him just a second ago! What was going on? The one who had his hand raised was now gathering a globe of dark energy in his scaly palm, dropping Robert’s jaw in both awe and terror. This was not going to be a normal day!
Still got the store phone! he mentally reminded himself frantically as he turned and made for the back room again in a wild sprint. There was a loud explosion, like a sudden snap, followed by a collapse of rubble. Shit, they were inside the building! Robert had a few more yards to go before he could…
A shroud of purple and black energy swirled in front of his office door and in a matter of seconds, one of the cloaked figures materialized in front of him in a disturbing blaze of purple fire, stopping the manager in his tracks. The figure raised its hand, revealing under its sleeve a similar kind of deformity on its arm. Palm facing Robert, it began materializing the globe of dark energy its brethren formed moments before. Acting fast, the manager ducked and kicked a leg out at one of the figure’s knees, suddenly knocking it to the floor and disrupting its spell, and soon he made his way into the office…
…only to learn that was a bad move on his part. The rest of the group showed up in front of him instantaneously, tending to their fallen brother. One of them raised a hand, and all electronic devices in the room, Robert’s cell phone included, popped and smoked. Just what kind of maniacs were these people?! They began closing in, and Robert, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, formulated a plan. The nearest thing to his right was to be his bludgeoning device. Throwing fate to the wind, and very well his life, he reached his arm out and grabbed hold of a steel pipe that he and his managers lay for a future project. Well, now that steel pipe’s purpose was self-defense, and with a wide swing at the heads and chests of the encircling misfits, he made hard contact. The pipe vibrated in his hands as he knocked the cloaked goons off their balance, knocking them into his desk and giving him enough of an opening to escape his own office.
The pipe his only true friend now, Robert made a mad dash for the massive hole at the front end of the building, the bright morning sunlight pouring through it like a beacon of hope. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the familiar swirling of dark energy form at the large opening, and readying his weapon like a baseball bat, Robert assumed a battle-ready stance. The cloaked goons materialized again in front of him, and a guttural sound, almost like laughter, reverberated from each and every one of them. Now all of their arms were raised, the scaly deformed arms exposed, and they were all forming the same globe of dark energy. Robert could feel a grin forming on his lips as his eyes narrowed in deliberation. Adrenaline coursed through him as the memories of his baseball days returned to him, only this time with the added layer of his very life being on the line. Five pitchers, one batter. The distance was much less than the regulated 90 feet from home plate to the pitcher’s mound. Try twenty-five feet. Robert watched as all the globes combined to form one massive ball, bigger than a bean bag chair made to seat five people, the energy reverberating wildly like it was breaking the barrier between reality and imagination itself. Today, he felt like he was going to make a difference…! He backed away a few yards to give himself leeway, and then--!
The loud bang rang through the aisles of the empty store, giving Robert the cue to swing his pipe at the quickly approaching energy ball, and then--!
A white figure suddenly appeared in front of him, holding off the approaching bomb of doom with nothing more than a steel bastard sword. There were disgruntled, throaty hisses coming from the assaulting cult, as if they knew the man who dared to intervene. Garbed in a white tuxedo and white fedora, the overcoat’s tails fluttering wildly from the energy being given off by the great orb, the white stranger turned his head to Robert. A simple nod to the emergency exit door on the farthest side of the store was all the communication the store manager needed. His days of baseball would have to wait as he made a sprint for the emergency exit.
He dashed through the door, disregarding his alarm as he threw fate, his job and his current lifestyle to the wind, making a run for the docking bays of the old mills across the street from the building that was Super Discount Groceries. The earth tremored in a rhythm, like a heartbeat, and each tremor grew stronger and stronger no matter how far from the store Robert ran. Whatever was transpiring at work—at Super Discount Groceries—was not going to end well. Robert ran for what seemed like hours then, ignoring the stares of any passersby he may have run past, stopping to catch his breath at the New Haven Credit Union’s West Haven branch. He felt his heart sink and his stomach lurch as he and several newly awakened and dressed-for-work pedestrians heard a loud explosion in the distance, like cannon fire. He turned in the direction of Super Discount Groceries, witnessing a large and thick cloud of smoke, dust and debris billowing from where the establishment once stood. Soon after, a shockwave spread through the area, knocking several people, including Robert, off their feet. The amount of power from those cloaked morons and that white-garbed…thing…was impressive, even to the former store manager! His eyes scanned over the steel pipe that he was about to whack the gigantic orb of energy with earlier, and sighed in relief. Pulling himself up, Robert could feel a genuine laugh welling in his chest. He was grateful for today, and it was only 7:15 in the morning! As other men and women of other walks of life stood up and dusted themselves off, Robert barked a loud, honest, contagious laugh. Soon, everyone around him was laughing, and they didn’t know why. They just knew they were laughing…
Robert?
He was just happy to be alive.
He was happy to finally be rid of the ball and chain that was his job.
He was happy for the encounter he had today with the shady morons who walked through his parking lot.
The laughing soon stopped, however, as the fedora-donning gentleman in the white tuxedo sauntered casually in Robert’s direction, his bastard sword sheathed and slung casually over his back. Robert’s laugh trailed off, and then with it, his smile. The features on the man were disturbing, yet simple. No hair, no face, skin as pale as his suit. Some of the ladies and gentlemen around Robert fled the vicinity, fearing the unknown the man would bring. Others carried on their usual days, presumably supernatural beings trying to live normal lives among humans, having been used to sights like the man. Once the gap between Robert and the walking white sheet was closed, the man removed his fedora in a wide sweep, bowing low to one knee.
“Greetings, Mr. Marques,” the man spoke formally in a deep and smooth voice, standing and replacing his hat. “I presume you had a pleasant morning?”
“Well…I had a peaceful morning until those…heh, gangsters arrived,” Robert sneered, leaning on his pipe. “What’s the deal with them, anyway? Who the hell are they? And, hey, while I’m at it, how the hell do you know who I am, Mister F—“
“Face. You may call me Face,” the man chuckled. “I used to shop in your store before I ‘died’ at the hands of those five demons.”
“So why not just give me your real name? And if you died before, how are you still alive now?” Robert was quick to shrug. Face simply raised a white-gloved hand, dismissing the thought.
“You have nothing to worry about from those five, for now,” Face continued. “They simply saw you as a threat to their plans. You, like me, do not really matter to their agenda. They are not hesitant in killing any onlookers to keep their anonymity safe, and that is simply what they do.”
“Alright,” Robert huffed, shifting his weight to one leg as he leaned further forward on the pipe. “Enough with the cryptic stories. Who are they, what do they want, and how can I file a lawsuit on them for the loss of my job?”
Face only chuckled again. “So quick to jumping to conclusions about your employment, Mr. Marques. Your job is in safe hands. We can just say, given the conditions of your store, you are on…permanent leave with indefinite pay.”
“Now you’re pissing me off,” Robert said. “You ain’t answering my questions and you keep talking like I’m part of this bigger picture of yours or something. Now spit it out or I’m calling the cops on you.”
“Hard to do so with a shorted out cell phone,” Face reminded him casually before carrying on, “And besides, they are nothing more than an experimental cult deployed by ANGEL and VS Pharmaceutical. Those names, I am sure, you are familiar with?”
Robert nodded, shifting again to stand upright now, his steel pipe beside him like a cane. “Yeah, I hear those names constantly, despite me working over important news times. Not a whole lot of good, but not a whole lot of bad either, like Congress.”
Face chuckled jovially at the sarcasm, delving then into his explanation.
“ANGEL and VS Pharmaceutical have an agenda of their own, as you know. They wish to construct the perfect race of superhuman soldiers, an army powerful enough to make China shake in fear and Russia question its own masculinity. They have already begun circulating the super-soldiers among the ranks of the militaries here in the United States and in those of the Middle East as a test of their capabilities,” he explained. “The results have come back….satisfactory.”
Robert grimaced. ANGEL and VS Pharmaceutical were usually at war with one another, as he learned from newspapers and gossip circulating from customers. Combining their efforts…?
“What are ANGEL and VS doing working together?” he asked, intrigued.
“I’m glad you asked,” Face replied, waving his arms in a big fanfare. “You see…their rivalry is nothing more than a charade for the media. The CEO of VS Pharmaceutical, Inari, and the Administrator of ANGEL, only fight for show. They show up in media outlets like LNN, Vulpine Today and other mainstream news outlets to spread their propaganda about how wonderful their company is and how terrible the other one is.” He pointed an extended arm at Robert, nodding. His tone dropped, almost to a solemn level, as he added, “The truth, however, and as you may have guessed, is that they are both disgustingly bad. Believe me when I tell you.” He let his arm drop to his side then, sighing.
“How do I fit into all of this?” Robert asked with a curious tilt of his head. Face suddenly snapped to attention, lifting two fingers as if to point to something in the sky.
“That…! That will be explained some other time.” Robert scowled then, and if he scowled any harder, he would have stabbed Face multiple times with his glare.
“So why lead me on like this, you moron?!” he shouted through gritted teeth, slamming the pipe to the ground, but before he could even reach out to grab Face by the collar of his shirt…the man was gone. Stunned, Robert bent down to pick his pipe back up. He couldn’t sling it to his person, nor could he sheath it like a normal sword. Were he to carry the piece of metal around like a baseball bat, he would be questioned by the police. He’d have to dump it off somewhere inconspicuous.
So…this was his new life. Robert Marques was a free man, free of his soul-crushing job, free of his ghetto store. He was a man who, while he didn’t show on the surface, was ready to tackle the world for what it was, and not the financial gains it had.
He shook his head, taking deep breaths to let his building rage gradually dissipate.
Day 1 of a very long vacation…perhaps an amazing journey?...was a go.