Bionica: The War

The Mythic Reaper

Peter Hunt held six-year-old Thomas's hand as he walked down the bustling streets of New York City. His son was young, and he knew that, but if he was going to start at any time, it was now. Thomas still didn't know what was going on or why they had flown all the way here from San Dimas. Peter had decided it was for the best. He'd have to get used to adjusting quickly in this brave new world.

They arrived at the place where they would be staying for the night. It was a fancy hotel in the middle of Times Square. Peter figured he could afford to splurge; after all, it was his last night with his son. Why not make it special? They checked in and rolled their luggage toward the tubular elevators in the center of the lobby. There were seven of them arranged in a circle, and one had to walk through a small opening in the circle to get there. The cars were sleek and modern, with walls made of acrylic so one could see through them, and it moved quickly.

As they got off the elevator, Thomas jumped up and down, saying, "Again! Again!" Peter simply held his stomach from the slight wave of nausea.

"Maybe later, buddy," he said, fumbling in his pocket for the room key. When he found it, he slid it into the scanner and opened the door. Thomas put his things down and began jumping on the beds. Peter smiled at him as he read the room service menu. Nothing appealed to him, and it was all priced ridiculously. So he slammed it on the chest of drawers and looked at Thomas. "Hey, Thomas?"

"Yeah?" the little boy answered, still jumping.

"How about you and Dad go out for a nice dinner, huh?" asked Peter. "It's a special night; why not?"

Thomas smiled and dove towards his suitcase. He pulled out camouflage-patterned pajama pants, a plaid flannel, and a black tank top with a motorcycle appliqué on it. "How would this look?" he asked. "I've got an undershirt and everything, just like you!"

Peter laughed. "I was thinking something more like this," he said. He went into Thomas's bags and pulled out black pants, a solid white shirt, and a black tie. "Now you'll really look like Daddy when he goes to work."

"Thanks!" said Thomas, happily taking the clothes. "Now all I need is, like, a crap ton of gel to get that sexy shine, 'cause I'm a Dapper Dan man like you!"

Peter's face whitened. "Who told you those words?"

Thomas continued on innocently towards the bathroom. "Mommy always says it to you in the morning. Also, and sometimes I hear you combing your hair and saying, 'Hey, baby, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' Daddy, were you talking to an angel?"

Rough hands rested on Thomas's shoulders. "Don't repeat that," said Peter. "And don't say crap. Or sexy. Got it?" Thomas nodded. "Good. Now go get dressed!"

_______

That night Peter woke himself up to a nearly silent alarm. The clock read 2:30 AM. He got out of bed and dressed in the standard-issue clothes he was given, careful not to wake Thomas. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but it was all for Lara. His wife wouldn't survive if he didn't do this.

He gathered up Thomas's things and put them all in his small suitcase, not bothering with his own. He'd come back later and get them. Finally, he inched Thomas out of the bed ever so carefully and carried him on his hip. Silently they went down the elevator and into the streets, which were only slightly less quiet than during the day. He walked quickly towards 33rd Street, where the building was. There he would do what he had to.

The streets were hard to navigate; there were just so many of them. Peter had never been good with directions to begin with, but this was a living hell. Eventually, though, he got someone to point him in the right direction.

As he stood in front if the building, he paused for a moment to take it in. To take in the severity of what he was about to do. To take in the fact that soon a huge weight would be lifted off his shoulders.

And another one would replace it.

He walked into the building's lobby, where a receptionist greeted him sleepily. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked, yawning.

"Yes," said Peter, "I have an appointment with General Mereb."

"At this hour?" asked the girl. Then she pressed the intercom button. "Sir? There's someone here to see you." She let out another yawn. "Yeah, he's wearing Class C fatigues." A pause. She let go of the button. "He said you can go right in."

"Thank you," Peter replied, walking through the large double doors. There, a man in a decorated military uniform stood waiting.

"Mr. Hunt?" asked the man.

"General Mereb," said Peter as he shook the general's hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Likewise," said Mereb. "Is this the boy?" he asked, gesturing to a still sleeping Thomas.

Peter started to lightly shake Thomas. "Yes. This is Thomas. Thomas? Wake up, buddy."

The boy's eyes fluttered open. "Dad?" he asked. "Where are we?"

"We're with the government," said Peter. "Daddy's got to go away for a bit, so I want you to stay with General Mereb here. He'll take good care of you, okay?"

Thomas looked at him with sad, tired eyes. "Why do you have to go?"

Peter started to tear up. "I've gotta go take care of your mom," he said. "You be a good boy, okay?" Thomas nodded, and Peter pulled him into a hug. "I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad."

Peter straightened and nodded at the general. "When should I expect my payment?"

"The check's in the mail," said Mereb.

And with that, Peter turned and walked out.