The Immortal Greed

The Eyeball

Astron City - the next day

Sun rose from behind the hills. Its rays peeked through, slightly embracing the beautifully designed neighborhood, River Creek. Birds chirped, as they were heard every morning, bouncing from beautifully spaced ornamental trees emphasizing the concrete road webbing through the subdivision.

Almost overlooking the expanse of Astron City, making this property a little bit above the medium-end classification. As the sun was at its peak, the ornamental trees provided shade on roads to maintain coolness if people opt to evade the slightly harmful sun rays.

At this time of day, River Creek was almost a bunch of empty houses as the majority of the tenants went to Astron City, burying themselves to work just to compensate for the lifestyle that they have chosen. But not Lance, he stayed in the house during the daytime to sober up for the next drinking session. Most often than not, he went out during nighttime - a scapegoat to his liking, evading the never-ending sermons of an unhappy wife.

But not today. Today was different.

All day long, Lance was doing his daily routine of watching the news and sitting down lazily on their couch. Even so, his mind never ceased to escape the night with the unknown lady at the bar. He gulped two Advils to restrain his hangover and would permit himself to think straight.

The military-grade watch alarms silently as it was 1700H. Two hours before the meeting. He was also doubtful about the letter he received. Trained for anticipation, he always considered that the invitation was a trap orchestrated by rebel groups for revenge. Maybe this was in connection with Mission Red Sparrow. Or could be a diversion to kidnap his wife. 

Fortunately, his wife was out of town as she was scheduled to drive to Barnsford, her hometown, to celebrate her mother's birthday. Barnsford, located on the outskirts of Astron City, was less populated than the cows they raised. 

Even so, Barnsford had state-of-the-art farming equipment that could efficiently support the needs of a farmer, especially tilling numerous acres of land. Most of the farmers used digitized farming equipment from Tractors, mowers, and harvesters just to expedite farming processes.

'Lucky.' Lance thought.

He glanced at the letter a few more times to look for additional clues. He mentally prepared himself for what could happen and simulated various scenarios in his mind.

He sat in a comfortable chair in his basement, closed his eyes, and remain motionless for half an hour. A meditation for every mission cleared his mind and revitalize his long-gone focus.

'You need to sober up, Lance!' He convinced himself during his meditation.

He immediately grabbed the black bag and checked his pistol, his hunting knife, his sniper scope, and his bulletproof vest. He holstered his gun at the back of his pants. He wore his vest underneath his white shirt and tucked his knife strapped in his waist.

'Old school toys. They will work.' Lance thought.

These were classic weapons they used years before in service. But after the inventions of electric and digitized weapons, they had a significant advantage against the rebels. Nonetheless, Lance was also adept with the classics.

He was trained for uncertainty and he even survived the hardest of battles he encountered for 7 years of his military service. He went to the garage and decided to ride his bike, and not his car, in case of high-speed pursuits.

He planned to arrive at the meeting place an hour earlier to conduct parameter reconnaissance.

He drove passing through the heart of Astron City. As he passed through high-rise buildings, numerous large LED advertisements, and city street lights, bright enough that there were no dark corners around the city's epicenter. Hope coursed through his veins.

A city worth fighting for.

Food stalls on the side of streets and high-class Restaurants situated on the ground floors of these large establishments, and numerous happy people celebrating life like there was no tomorrow, seemed to delight the scenery as he drove by. Lance felt alive and happy to have survived his 3 tours in various rebel countries and witnessed the fancies of this fine City.

But never did it leave the memories during the Rebel siege as the heart of the City was painted with blood and rubbled structures.

City lights began to fade. He had to turn towards the underground pass to take a shortcut to the port area. The underground pass had a few lights and the inside of the tunnel was poorly lit, with numerous yellow lights and reflectorized traffic signs to avoid accidents. As he began to reach the end of the tunnel, his feeling of happiness faded and a sudden chill to his bones grasp his entire body.

'This is not fear, this is excitement. This is what I am built for.' He convinced himself.

As he reached the port area, he parked his bike 500 meters away from the warehouse. He checked the perimeter of the warehouse and even the roof, and he found nothing suspicious. There were no signs of traps, or other operatives ready for an ambush. He found a port tower 300 meters away from the warehouse.

"Perfect, vantage point." He told himself.

He positioned himself on top of it waiting for the meeting time. He pulled his sniper scope, without the sniper, and used it to survey the area for any movement. He stayed there until 1900 H.

Later, a black government Range Rover parked in front of the warehouse door. Two human figures disembarked the said vehicle.

"Smells like government," He whispered.

The two were wearing black formal clothes, one was a woman with her high heels and tucked black shirt and the other was a tall, heavy-built man wearing a black suit. The woman was holding an attache case in her right hand.

'It could be a weapon.' Lance thought.

Both went inside the warehouse. Lance glanced at his watch and noticed the time, exactly 1900 H. Then he thought.

He went down the tower and sprinted to the warehouse. Gripping his handgun, He was still cautious and ready for action. 

'This is a trap. This is a trap.' He expected the worst.

He convinced himself that he was prepared. He did not go directly inside the open door but instead, he leaned against the wall beside it and cautiously peeked inside.

All he saw were stacked containers, and empty spaces and all else was darkness and quietness. Behind the stacked wooden large crates, one ceiling light was turned on but behind it was concealed, only he could imagine - the two government tools.

'This is it. I am coming in. Remember your training, Lance.' He forced the thought. 

His heart pounding and adrenalin rushed through his veins. He went inside with his gun pointing outwards aiming at possible ambush points, weaving through the stacked containers like a maze. His forehead was soaked with perspiration. 

'C'mon, Lance. If this is a trap, you should know by now. Slowly now. Watch your every move.' He tried to train himself back as an efficient military operative before.

He had gentle strides and went in quietly towards the lighted area. As he went over the side of the stacked containers, he saw an empty chair and an empty table, and behind the table was the tall guy in a black suit, just standing there still without saying a word.

"Who are you?" Lance stopped while pointing his gun at him and shouted to the man. Suddenly, he felt a cold, round metal that kissed his nape. It clicked.

The sudden sensation rushed inwards to his skull as he felt the weight of the circular metal pressed against it at the back of his skull. It was like a kiss of death. Lance stood motionless and realized that it was a gun. He was caught off guard.

'F*ck. How did I miss this?' Lance cursed in his thoughts. 'I am dead. You are dead, you loser. You are a hopeless piece of sh*t!'

"Drop your gun. Put your hands in the air." The woman said with authority and had military experience evident in her voice. Lance threw his gun on the floor and raised his hands gently.

"Is this a trap?" Lance said without turning his back, maintaining his nonchalance.

"No, Lieutenant. This is an invitation." The woman replied.