Hercules

Part One

From the safety of the penthouse, I watch the chaos unfold.

Civilians march on in heavy work boots, their anger clear from here. Their fear, too. I can feel their angst wash over me, even from up here, like a boiling wave. Shaking my head and leaning back in my chair, I take a closer look at the aggressors.

Armor is scarce among them. Their ages range from adolescents to those older than even I. I scoff a bit, a sprinkle of pity in my gaze. Some of them don mighty weapons. Laser canons, bullet-style guns. Things that would hurt and kill. Other's grip shiny knives or smaller guns. I raise my eyebrow at those individuals. Surely, a knife was better than nothing, but did they really believe such weapons could stand against us? Regardless, all are armed, their weapons pointed straight up at the sky.

Sometimes I like to pretend that the mobs are angry with someone else. I conjure up a phantom to replace me and my company, never feeding my fantasies with much detail. They are angry with something else. Furious with a government for waging a war or dismantling their rights. Out of their mind at a fatal drought. Something along those lines.

I close my eyes, pushing up the sleeves of my tailored suit. I try to remove myself from the conflict, knowing full well what would happen next. I am nothing more than a bystander, an observer, a third party. My actions can't affect what happens to the mob, nor the phantom threat. I can do nothing but watch.

Buzz

Without opening my eyes, I snap my finger down and press the button.

"What is it?"

"It's time for the order, Mr. Hercules."

"The...order?"

"Yes? Sir?"

The secretary sounds confused and unsure. I laugh a little to myself, imagining a brown haired mess freaking out and doubting herself at her boss's words. I rub my chin, realizing that my fantasy must be thrown out. Dismembered. Shattered. Reality had called harshly, and I needed to respond.

"I kid," I say. "You may proceed. Make sure the cameras catch this one. People need to know what they're capable of."

"Yes, sir."

There's a certain sadness in her voice, one that I am empathetic to. Without another word, I remove my finger from the button and stand. Slowly, I cross my arms behind my back and move forward. Every step feels like it's taken through a sea of concrete. At last, I reach the window. Just in time to see the first Hoard take off.

The crowd seems to simultaneously shake, doubting themselves and their strike. The Hoard has their teeth bared and ready, peeling yellow claws grabbing out at them. Despite their visible decay, they move quickly. People don't seem to know what hits them, only that they're severely out-manned and outgunned.

I try to block out the screams and figure out where exactly this all went wrong.

I remember the day when they first contacted us. Desperate, in vast need of our help. At first, government officials believed them to be aliens. After a few misunderstandings, we soon realize they weren't aliens, but another reality in its entirety. Similar to our Earth, but with some missing pieces, as people around here liked to refer to it as. The largest and most important piece was vaccines. Edward Jenner was never born. Valley Forge failed to utilize his methods and, therefore, failed at making them well known. This error allowed for already awful diseases like polio to mutate into...something else. The infected were hardly human and were in the process of overthrowing their society. Something needed to be done.

That's where Hercules Inc. stepped in. We offered them a helping hand, promising both the Other Side and the United Nations that we'd maintain the problem. At first, we seemed to do just that. Searching for a cure, starting vaccinations in their world, eliminating the infected who failed to receive treatment. But things just kept getting worse and worse. Our greatest minds yielded little results. The Other Side stopped contacting us once we'd taken their demons in exchange for vaccines.

And then our scientists made a discovery; The infected make for excellent soldiers. They were killing machines, hungry for blood. Easy to control, too indulged with pain to care about who or what they took their anger out on. With a couple of genetic modifications, we could bypass their inherent weakness and use that thirst for our own gain. Despite protests, the board voting in favor of using them as weapons. My own company had turned on me, and unlike others I am too cowardly to speak out. Instead I keep silent, allowing them to mass slaughter anyone who resisted our little 'revolution'.

This was the second protest this week. Judging by the messy, crimson mess, lifeless bodies, and shredded limbs, it would be just like the last. Their fight doesn't last more than a couple of minutes. A few lasers shot, bullets fired and then boom. Down. Their life force escaping them, turning the courtyard of my headquarters into a graveyard.

I admired their bravery, their willingness to stand up for their freedom. But stupidity shouldn't be celebrated. Surely they knew this would result in nothing else other than a bloodbath? Right? Perhaps they did know but did not care. They'd fight and die regardlessly.

As soon as the hoards are called back in, I remove my thick spectacles and rub my templates, attempting to rid myself of a horrendous headache. At fifty-two years of age, there was little that I could physically do to stop them, to stop the genocide.

But I must do something. For them, for future generations, and for the redemption of my company and myself, I must try.

What about your family. Myra, your wife, and Faye, your daughter?

I immediately stop moving the second the voice in my head picks up again. The coward inside of me continues to yell, forming excuse after excuse. I fight back, trying to rationalize with myself. As I do I start moving again, gliding out of the penthouse and down the hall. I jab the elevator button and wait impatiently for it to open. My employees walk past me and nod, fright and awe in their eyes. I nod at them, my attention almost solely focused somewhere else.

By the time the elevator opens, I've made my decision.

I will remain silent.