“Well this is new”, the president thought, as he gazed upon his captors. He’s been through several incidents before. The assassination attempt at the museum in NY. The bomb scare in the airport in Russia, and the suicide bomber in New Mexico who didn’t wire his bomb correctly. As intense those situations were, never would he thought anything could top them. And yet here he is, in the oval office, being held captive.
President Galford sized up the situation. Five men with assault rifles and enough tactical gear to take on a small country. They had a steely demeanor to them that makes it evident that they’ve been in similar situations before. These were not your crazed psycho’s with a political agenda. No these were highly trained mercenaries. They had to be. Who else would have the balls to walk into 1600 Pennsylvania ave and have their way with everyone they encountered?
The masks they wore ensured they were non descript. Average heights, muscular builds, No discernible accents.
The Secret Service men that were posted on the door outside lay unconscious in the center of the room. The small consolation being that they were taken by surprise with no blood being spilled. If things go well, all things considered, the only scars they will have will be to their pride.
Galford hoped that the path these men took to get to him, had outcomes no worse then what was before him.
“What do you want?”, he finally demanded. “What’s the meaning of all of this?” A small ironic laugh started in his head. The critic in him pointed out how cliché he sounded when he built a campaign on being anything but.
One of the men to his left responded. “You will initiate a worldwide broadcast. There is a message that must be delivered.”
“We will not deal with terrorists!”, Galford shouted, trying to drown out his inner critic. But laughter he still heard. This however came from the thin man that just entered the door. “Terror is not out game here Mr. President. We only wish to deliver a message.” The thin man held up a hand to stop another presidential outburst. “Not one of hate, or terror, or anything as grand as blowing up buildings on some bloody anniversary. What we have to say is important. Future generations will decide how much so.”
The president’s cynic took control of his mouth before he could stop it, “Did one of the local stations deny you you’re 15 minutes?“
That little statement pulled a chuckle from everyone in the room. Well the ones that were conscious that is.
“Ah, the sharp wit that I so enjoy Mr President. I’m glad I voted for you.”
“I’d be happy if you let me and my people go, and forget this whole thing”
A smile seeped into the thin man’s face. “Oh it is much to late to forget anything now. We’ve come all this way and won’t be denied what we seek.” The playful demeanor now drained from him as he continued, “Do as we say, and everyone goes home happy. The more you deny us the more people will be hurt.”
“I’ve already told you my answer”.
No words were immediately spoken in response. Instead just furious actions. As if what Galford had given the instructions himself, the mercenaries picked up the slumbering guards, measured out copious amounts of rope, and prepared them as to be slaughtered in time for thanksgiving dinner.
“Stop this…” began Galford but he was drowned out by the thin man “No! We have no power to stop this, You do! Fate will not delay this course. You have the ability to stop this and only you! And this is the path that we will follow. We will start with your trusted staff, and when we run of them we will gather up the people of this city, slowly but surely until there is no one left in this world and you lie drowning in their blood!”
The though of seeing one man cut into pieces, tortured, soured Galfords stomach. The thought of seeing everyone in the building being pulled apart made his throat burn.
Then the thin man made it worse.
“Wakey, wakey sleepy head”, the thin man cooed as he gently shook the bound man. “Time to go to school”.
The secret service man slowly came to. Shock was readable on his face, as his senses reported to him what was happening. The thin man held a hand over his mouth and began to speak to him. “Be a gent and answer my questions. No bravado or macho man bull shit or you die a woman instead of a man. “
The thin man took the SS man’s silence as acceptance.
“So, Agent Silvers” the thin man says while staring at Galford “is it true, that you are married?”
“Yes”, Silvers answers trying to keep the disdain from his voice.
“And from this marriage, you have 2 children. Marcy and Brian.” Anger overcame Silvers face, “Yes.”
“So, Adam Silvers. What would you do if a someone stole into your house..” Silvers couldn’t contain it anymore “You stupid fuck! you do anything..” Silvers’s declaration was cut short by the sound of a loud thud, and his scream that immediately followed.
The color left Galford’s face and to this the thin man smiled. The thin man, came around to the front of silvers to inspect the knife wound he had just sustained.
“Hmm…”, the thin man contemplates. “Looks like the Mrs, really loves your personality since you haven’t been giving her much else”. The mercenaries chuckle, while Galford sinks into his chair. “No more outbursts, or Marcy will never have a little sister. It stings like hell I bet but it’s only a flesh wound. k tanto?” Like a starting gun, the thin man calling Silvers ‘tanto’ opened his eyes and let loose the tears that raced down his face.
Galford has always heard of it but this is the first time he’s seen it in person. The moment when a man gives up all hope and has nothing in him but to cry. And weep silvers did. The word tanto must mean something special to him and his family thought Galford.
The emotional pieces of Silvers that smashed against the floor took with them part of Galford. Seeing someone in despair is one thing, but to watch them fall into that abyss, was just more than Galford thought he could handle.
“Let’s see what contestant number two has to offer..” sang the the thin man.
“Enough”, Galford whimpered. “What do you want me to do?”
The cool calm demeanor returned to the thin man. Call an emergency broadcast on all channels. Order all of your forces to stand down from any attempts to disrupt, interfere or otherwise stop the broadcast from happening live. No hero work is to be attempted either. If everything is not followed to the letter, you will die knowing that 10 seconds before your soul left your body, tanto’s children watched their father ripped into small bits.
“Understood”, whimpered Galford. The critic in Galford’s head offered only one question. ‘Was it Silvers or was it you that fell into despair?”
Preparations were made and everything was being brought together. Galford hadn’t thought everything through but it all became apparent. There were many more than 6 mercenaries that made this temporary coup possible. Galford looked around as the conference center was filled with men, and women. They were covered in black head to toe.
Somewhere, a small village is missing their ninjas.
Galford was ushered to an odd looking booth. It had an office chair bolted to the middle of it., It looked like a freestanding doorway with a short hallway on either side of it. As he sat, Galford figured out it’s purpose. He was allowed to see the show as a mercenary flanked each side of him, within the small hallways. No doubt these walls were bullet proof.
Only a minute or two before show time, and Galford worried about what was going to happen. Did he give in to easy? He allowed these brutal men to take over a worldwide communication system. His critic joined in, though he questioned if he was even that brutal to think “Was Silvers worth it? Whatever is going to happen here, was the survival of one’s man family worth what is going to happen to the world?” The cynic answered “Why are you blaming this on Silvers?”
The thin man interrupted the internal struggle Galford was going through. He appeared in front of Galford, with a guitar. “A guitar?!” galford’s conscious screams. “All of this over a fucking concert?” Galford mumbles quietly to the thin man.
“The future will decide how important this is”, the Thin man offers with a smile. “Here, take this. Don’t open this envelope until after everything is done here today. You’ll know when.”. Galford held back a grumble.
The thin man approached the microphone positioned in front of the cameras. Galford noticed that the thin man looked even more tired, under the bright lights which seared the spot where the microphone stood. His showmanship seemed, not as strong, as it did before. Something that should not happen when a man is about to appear in front of the world. “Fucker probably has stage fright” Galford thought to himself.
The “On Air” light comes on. The world is in tune. And the thin man spoke.
“My name is Kalim Alexander. I have done many things in this world. Some good, Some bad. Before I die, I wanted to do one thing that many kings before my time have failed to do…”
The band hidden behind the curtain to took that as a cue to start playing. They played softly, waiting for their band leader.
“For a fucking concert” Galford mumbled.
“To do this, as my last act. I’m going to tell you my story”
With that Kalim,’s demeanor changed. No longer tired or exhausted as Galford had noticed before. No, now he was tall, powerful. The words he spoke came deep and moving as if it was a lion’s roar.
“Mother Earth is pregnant for the Third Time. For ya’ll have knocked her up. I have tasted the maggots in the mind of the universe and I was not offended. For I knew I had to rise above it all, or drown in my own shit. Free your mind and your ass will follow”
The first note that rang true from Kalim’s guitar pierced into Galford’s mind. The notes that followed created a roller coaster of sound that Galford couldn’t resist. Galford watched as Kalim poured everything he had into playing this song. There were no more words. Just sound. Pure emotion pouring off Kalim being rocketed across the universe by each strum of Kalim’s fingers.
Galford resisted at first. He tried but failed. Galford was swept away into the music being played by Kalim. He began to understand Kalim with out the need of words. Kalim was a solitary man, driven to do many things, some of them he regrets. He was trying to connect with the world. Be with everyone all at once. Something no other person has attempted. To be the conduit to the world.
A cough shook Kalim, but the music played on. Galford saw the weariness in Kalim’s face draining back. Another cough shook Kalim and left it’s mark at the corner of his mouth, in the guise of blood. Yet the music played on strong.
The player became the played. The music, the otherworldly sound that Kalim heralded was feeding off of his life. And he was paying dearly for it.
The music was coming home for a close. It was coming to it’s inevitable conclusion and Galford saw in Kalim’ eyes, It was his time.
Kalim played the final notes with a flourish, the final note echoing through the room, refusing to leave like a ghost doomed to haunt it forever. Kalim, struggled to stay standing. He gazed upon the end of the camera, staring back at him. He mustered his strength, stood straight and tall. He thrust his right hand it the air. His index and pinky fingers raised and spread, the ring middle and thumb closed in tight. Like a gladiator who just won his freedom he beamed triumph.
Then he collapsed.
Galford ran to him. His tormentor became his ward. But there was no struggle to hold onto the vestiges of life. Instead Kalim let it all slip away. He gave the president a small smile and then faded away. Galford closed departed man’s eyes. The camera responded in kind.
Galford gently laid Kalim’s head down on the stage.
The ninja clad group that remained all stared at Galford. “What happen’s now” Galford asked of the closest ninja. Without a word all of them responded. Weapons were dismantled, gear was stocked and stored away. After all of this was done they lined up and stood at attention. The leads of each line went to each member in their line and bound their hands. When that was done, one last mercenary bound the remaining group. In unison the all dropped to their knees, and silently waited.
Galford was awestruck by what he was seeing. These men and women had committed acts that monarchies, democracies, dictatorships and the like would consider treason, punishable by death. Yet there they sat awaiting their fates. Unflinching. They followed a dying man into a situation that would only turn out bad for them since he had an out. Yet they did so with out even one of your cliche betrayals near its conclusion.
“I bet”, started Galford’s critic, “that the envelope contains a plea by Kalim to pardon all of these people.”
Galford walked back to his concert seat, and retrieved the envelope that Kalim gave him. He opened and read it’s contents and couldn’t help but to let loose a hearty laugh.
It read: “Tell tonto, that his daughter posts too much information on Facebook. And that he needs to soundproof his bedroom walls.”