The Decay

Chapter 44 - The Deer

44

The Deer stood at the large window in his office, overlooking the sea. He stroked his beard medium-length brown beard in thought. A few streaks of gray hair had begun to form, a sign of his increasing age.

He thought back to the uprising, the war and it's casualties. The bullet entering his right eye. He should have died but he miraculously survived, a black eye patch now in place. After a few seconds, he turned around, heading for his desk. Pressing a button, a communication device sprang to life. “Ben, come into my office.” He remained standing, looking at the wooden office door.

Moments later, Ben entered the office. The large office was bright and vibrant. Plenty of light shone through the large window, striking the lustrous white walls. Paintings hung from the two side walls and the coat of arms of The Resistance hung above the door. The large window made the golden lightning shine bright. Ben nodded briefly as he entered. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “I have been alerted of the situation. It is vital that the target and his companions arrive here alive. Use whatever resources we have in the field. Get to their location and bring them all back in one piece.” “As you command, sir,” replied Ben before briefly bowing and heading out the front door.

Ben was in his late thirties. An ex-soldier of the U.S.G.A. When the internal uprising occurred, he had sided with Artemis from the start and had lead many of his supporters to this very building when the fighting got heavy. His shaved head and muscular body gave him a typical bodyguard appearance but his job went far beyond that. Walking down one floor, he headed for the communication center, controlled by Mr. Dupris, a man in his fifties who had spent all his life inventing new technology using whatever had survived the fourth world war. All he needed to do was invent a good prosthetic leg; he had lost his left leg in the uprising, blown off by a grenade. His fake leg was made of wood and metal, and he used a walking stick wherever he went, although he rarely left the communication center. “Mr. Dupris? I have direct orders from The Deer. Send squad 22-delta to the target. They are to do whatever is necessary to bring them back alive.” Mr. Dupris coughed and sank into his chair. “I was wondering when that order would come through. The target seems to be in trouble, I'll send the team right away.”