The 6-Tier System: The Adventures of Shawn Rossacks

Chapter 8 - A familiar name

Bruce sat in the front seat of the van, his eyes were busy, staring at the trees as the van zoomed past the road. He felt the air as a new being, three minds entwined in his single being. 

For the first time, he had the time to imagine the concept of the 6-Tier system. He had aspirations, but he thought it was all over when he died as Bruce. Only to be reborn as Vito DiMarco. Also, in his death as Vito, all he could see was darkness. Only to be reborn as Agent Liam Payne. 

The reality that he was a mix of Bruce Wayne, Vito DiMarco, and Liam Payne brought about a concoction of fascination, something he marvelled at.

"I'm alive," he said to himself and smiled. 

He changed his gaze to the driver, junior Agent James Watson. As he looked at him, a flood of memories surged through his mind as if someone had triggered them intentionally.

James was once a young boy whom Liam had found in the depths of the city's creeks. Homeless and battered. He had taken him under his wing, paying for his education and training, ultimately welcoming him into his trusted team.

At the realization, Bruce wondered how old Liam Payne was. He wished he wouldn't be aged.

He looked into the rear mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of his face but it was dark, all he could see was the nice contours of his face. Still, he longed for a mirror. 

The four other individuals seated behind Bruce were part of that team too. Based on his feeling, their loyalty was unwavering.

A heavy sigh escaped Bruce's lips as the van steadily made its way back to the city. The signpost on the border came into view, indicating their arrival at Crestwedge 'the clean place'.

Bruce knew the city well, aware that before Crestwedge, two cities, and a small town existed after Goldfields, the place where he had met his demise as Bruce Wayne, and where he had assumed the identity of Vito DiMarco.

According to the news, Crestwedge was known for its reputation of being a clean city with the presence of the Intelligence District and Checkers. But recent events had shattered that facade. The corruption ran deep, and a detective who had dared to challenge the system was betrayed and killed.

Interrupting his thoughts, the rear of the van creaked open, and one of his team members spoke up, informing him of an incoming call.

Bruce reached for the phone and brought it to his ear, waiting in anticipation for the voice on the other end to break the silence.

The seconds ticked by, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Bruce's mind raced, attempting to decipher the significance of this call. Who could be reaching out to him now, and why? The possibilities swirled in his head, but he remained composed, his imbibed years of training together with the time spent in the system instilled a sense of calm within him.

Finally, a voice crackled to life on the other end of the line. Bruce's attention sharpened, his focus honing in on the conversation about to unfold. He knew it would be a lead; an enemy or a foe. Thus, his mind was made ready to strategize and respond.

"Agent Payne, is that you?" the voice spoke from the other side. 

"Yes, Agent Payne on the line," Bruce answered. 

"Oh my God," the voice said. Beneath the projection of the voice was an array of joyous shouts, depicting the crew.

"It's been days," the voice said. "I thought you were dead. We already announced your death to the headquarters."

Histories regarding the voice and the owner seeped into Bruce's mind. He was Director Peter Crawford, the regional chief of the Intelligence District. He was loyal to the course. Bruce was happy to find out.

Bruce pressed the phone closer to his ear, relieved to hear the voice of Director Peter Crawford on the other end. "I guess you'll have to make a circular. I'm alive, Chief. I will see you tomorrow," he assured, his voice tinged with exhaustion and a hint of caution.

A brief pause hung in the air before Director Crawford responded, "Why not tonight? We are not in a hurry to regroup and discuss our next move. We just want to see you."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. His mind raced with thoughts of betrayal and deceit, knowing that CheckersUSA, the organization he had once served with unwavering loyalty, had turned against him. "I appreciate the urgency, Chief," he replied, his voice steady. "But it's best if we wait until tomorrow. I need to ensure our safety before exposing myself."

Director Crawford seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and relented. "Alright, Liam. Tomorrow it is. Stay safe. We'll be waiting."

Ending the call, Bruce turned to James, his trusted ally and companion throughout this treacherous journey. "I need a cold bath and a silent night. Take us to a hotel," he instructed, his gaze distant yet focused. "We'll rejoin the team tomorrow."

James nodded, "Yes, sir." The car sped through the city streets, finally changing direction.

As they travelled, a wave of thoughts flooded Bruce's mind, leading him down a path of realization. He found himself fixated on a woman, her face etched in his memory. He wiggled his head left and right, and then closed his eyes. 

Confusion etched across Bruce's face as he grappled with the revelations bombarding him. Visions of his past life as Vito DiMarco flickered through his mind, memories of multiple wives scattered across his tumultuous existence.

He recalled how he released them all, knowing he needed no woman that wasn't his. But this was different. The woman felt like something more and he wondered who she was. 

Suddenly, a name dropped in his mind. A name that was tagged with a lot, so much that Bruce winced. Suzanne Goldfield echoed in his thoughts, evoking an inexplicable sense of worry and connection.

What? Suzzane Goldfield? Goldfield? He questioned himself. 

Bruce knew the code. The memories weren't his. He had a memory of the Goldfield as a dejected worker, and then as a core help in the reform when he was Vito, but the memories that knotted him with Suzanne were Liam's. 

Lost in the maelstrom of his mind, Bruce's thoughts wandered until a sharp interruption cut through the haze.

"Sir, Miss Goldfield is in special custody," James informed him, his voice tinged with caution. "She attempted suicide upon hearing of your supposed demise. I guess you need to see her."

Bruce's breath caught in his throat as the weight of the revelation settled upon him. He realized his back on the seat, his mind spinning.

How could he still be tied to Goldfield in such a way? How did James know? The relationship must have been public. 

While he questioned himself, it hit him with a resounding certainty—a realization that shook him to his core. From the flaps of his mind, the truth creeps to the surface, piercing through the confusion. The words hung in the air, resonating with undeniable truth.

Suzzane Goldfield is your fiancee!