A Divine Plan

"Maitho walked carefully towards the table. He didn't know why he was so cautious, except for the fact that it felt natural. Raiden went ahead of him and took the chair closest to Cray. He sat down on it as though it was something he owned. That might just be the case. His exact relationship with Cray might be a mystery, but there was no doubt how much they have worked well with each other to warrant a sense of acceptance in each other's presence.

Maitho took the remaining seat, pulling it just a little further away from the others, leaving a gap that served as an imaginary boundary. He was on one side. Four adversaries on the other side, if he included the adopted children. He should, since they were present here. Which only meant that the senior Cray trusted them enough for them to be involved in the conversation.

Leaning forward, the senior Cray picked up an antique teapot and poured what smelled like earl-gray into an intricately carved cup. "Tell me," said Cray, picking up his own cup and taking a luxurious sip. "How many days do you have left?"

It was obvious what the old man was referring to. For the past twelve hours, Maitho had managed to place the problem of his impending doom as far away from his conscious mind as possible. He didn't want to think about it. He still had time to deal with it. At least, that's what he had hoped for. Now that Cray had dug up the situation, it was impossible to deny how little time Maitho truly had.

"Fourteen days starting today," said Maitho. For some reason, he knew that lying about that fact would be pointless. Cray had already displayed how much he knew about the whole situation. Yet Maitho deliberately gave the wrong information. He wanted to test for himself the extent of the old man's knowledge.

"You mean twelve days," said Cray, taking another sip from the cup.

That was all it took to confirm that Maitho was in the presence of someone who had access to information that probably no one in the world could discover. This was no ordinary billionaire. He was a man who was armed with money, army, and now, knowledge. Maitho nodded, simply because he wasn't about to let the old man know about the little test he had just played. "That's right. Twelve. I thought I had more."

"You're not someone who makes such clumsy mistakes, but we'll move past that." Cray leaned back in his chair cross-legged and brought his hands together, his forefingers leaning below his lower lip as he looked at Maitho contemplatively. "Let me be the predictor of your fate."

"Didn't know you could see futures."

"Well, not like you anyways." That proved it. Cray, and by that extension, Raiden, were aware of Maitho's powers. "But despite being devoid of powers, I think I have a lot more insight than you."

Maitho didn't allow himself to be shaken. He needed to keep his calm. Maintain his composure. Yet his thoughts were in a flurry of panic. "I'm listening," he said, if only to buy some time until he could think straight.

"You are a Guardian. Your mission, as is the same with the missions of all Guardians on this planet, is meant to save people's lives. Quite altruistic and frankly, commendable."

Maitho didn't interrupt the pause.

Cray continued. "You are given a target to save at the beginning of a certain period. The duration of that period is something unique to each Guardian. Some have as much as five months. Others, like yourself, just a month. If you do manage to save the target within your specific time limit, then at the end of the current period, you get to live for another one. You, Maitho, have to do this every month. Get a target at the beginning of the month, save them and wait for the month to end. Then you get another month to live. Rinse and repeat. How am I doing in the fact department so far?"

"Accurate."

"Good," said Cray. He did not change his position. It showed the level of control and poise the man had over himself. Probably a result of years of training himself to react that way to the numerous challenges he faced, both in his business and professional life. "Because there's more. Plans that you don't know exist. Machinations that have been kept hidden from you."

"So the Gods have big plans. I don't see anything wrong with that." said Maitho. He wasn't trying to initiate a conflict. So far, Cray had shown nothing but hospitality and there was no need to butt heads with him. Yet at the same time, it was important to understand his objective. "Even if you tell us that there are forces that have ulterior motives, all I see are the lives that we save. Plus, I get paid and I get to have a place to stay."

"And that's sufficient?"

Maitho shrugged. "I don't see what the problem is with that. Obviously, it's only been a day since I found out about what's happening to Guardians. Maybe I haven't put enough thought into everything. But does there have to be more?"

"A purpose, perhaps. Something grand to look forward to."

Cray had the right sentiment. He was a man who had always looked for the next big goal. He never settled for the ordinary. It was why he was considered one of the most powerful people on the planet. Maitho answered, without challenge. "Why is it important for someone to aim for a grand goal? Why can't the normal and the mundane be okay? There is nothing wrong in giving reverence to the little things. Having a job, spending time with family, night outs with friends or having a hobby. These are okay. We don't need more because a lot of the time, we have enough."

For his part, Cray did not react instantly. He still held his expression. "Unfortunately, I cannot relate to you. But I can understand your need for," he snapped his finger once, "stability."

Maitho nodded. "That's part of the reason, yes."

"But we aren't just talking about the lives of Guardians. If that were the case, then I wouldn't need you and hopefully, the Celtic team. And we wouldn't be having this conversation. I'm talking about the lives of the people. By that, I'm talking about anyone non-Guardian."

"You make it sound like we are, I don't know, killing people or something."

There was no change in Cray's expression. No fluctuation in his intonation. He simply responded as he always did. "That is exactly what I am saying."

Maitho didn't respond to that. He wasn't fully aware of what was happening, so for the moment, he will be letting the old man speak.

Cray continued. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves." He steepled his fingers and brought them to rest on his knee. He raised his head, as if he was about to speak something of grave importance. "In your opinion, what kind of lives are you saving?"

Maitho shrugged. He opened his mouth to say something, but immediately thought better of it. Who were the people he had been saving? Innocent, of course. He had saved fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters. Family. Friends. He had given people more time to spend time with their loved ones. He had prevented death from robbing people of the opportunity to follow their dreams. He knew, with all his belief, that he had done so much good. So why was Cray asking him such an odd question? "Good people," said Maitho. "Those are who I save. People who deserve to live. People who need more time. Or more of something. But good people nonetheless."

For what seemed like a whole minute, when it might have been just about a quarter of a minute, Cray did not speak. "Last week, a small convoy of my private security force was dispatched to help a local government overthrow a rebel drug lord. Now you have to understand something, the government had no intention of dealing with said drug lord. To them, he was keeping crime on the streets to a minimum. No more small gangs terrorizing city areas. No more unnecessary violence. It was a harmonic relationship. A political symbiosis, if you will."

Maitho didn't interrupt. He had agreed to listen to the old man. That was what he would do, without attempting to belittle the moment.

"So what changed? Why did they suddenly want to get rid of him?" said Cray, lifting up the cup of tea. "It so happened that the drug lord had got himself in a bit of a tricky situation. He began to deal directly to the son of a local politician. I won't go into too much detail, but the son got into a drug exchange with one of the drug lord's dealers. It was supposed to be a smooth transaction. But things went out of control. Tempers flared. People drew weapons. Next thing you know, the kid is dead. He had barely reached his eighteenth birthday." A sip of tea. "Anyway, the violence had finally broken out into the streets. People were horrified. Scared. They saw the body of the politician's son and they began to wonder if they were safe. After all, if someone so protected could be killed, what about them? There was an outcry. Someone had to take steps and well, the government was forced into action."

He placed the cup on the table. "Here's the problem. The local police force were, well, a little underprepared, to put it kindly. They had a rather untrained force. They were viciously outnumbered by the drug lord's army, who also happened to have connections within the government. So what do they do?" Cray spread his arms. "They call me. Or rather, they call upon the services of my private army. And what do I say? I say yes. After all, there was big money on the table. So many zeroes in that bank transfer, you'll wonder if I was about to buy my own country."

Cray laughed. "Then I send a small group of trained professionals to help them in a covert mission. The plan was simple. Slip into the drug lord's compound in the cover of the night, kill him and his close advisors. Then get out of the mission location. The plan was practically foolproof. After all, my guys are pros."

A pause. Cray seemed to ponder about something. Maitho wasn't certain where the story was going. He finally lifted the tea and blew at it to cool it a little.

"But something happened that night," said Cray. Maitho stopped trying to cool the tea. "Something I couldn't have predicted. It so happened that there were twelve people who shouldn't have been there in that compound that night. They were the drug lord's three wives and their children. Among them, a boy who hadn't even reached the age of ten."

Maitho realized that he was holding his breath. He knew what was going to come next. But it was as though his mind didn't want to hear it.

"When the body count was released," said Cray, his eyes losing focus as he withdrew into a memory. His face suddenly looked older, as though the weight of something was crushing down on him. "They mentioned the twelve deaths as part of 'unidentified personnel.' It was their way of covering up the truth. After all, no one is going to ask what happened to the family of a drug lord."

For the first time, Maitho began to look at Cray from a different viewpoint. He was a powerful old man. Someone who seemed to have ulterior motives. Someone who had a powerful Guardian to support him. Yet now he was something more. A killer. Taker of lives. Even though he wasn't directly responsible, his actions had led to the death of a ten-year-old.

"So I ask you this," said Cray. "Am I someone worth saving?"

"No," said Maitho. He didn't even hesitate. There was no need to think about the answer. It was as clear as day.

"But you were told to."

"I don't know how you did that, but I'm sure it wasn't the Gods or Godesses."

"Oh?"

"You found a way to cheat the system, didn't you? Manipulate the outcome. How else could you have two separate Guardian missions trying to save you?"

"Let's say that you are right. That somehow I found a way to make you and the Celtic team to come rescue me. What are you trying to prove with that information?"

"That I was forced to come to your rescue. That I was forced to save the life of a criminal."

"So am I the odd one out?" Cray placed his hands on the armrests. He looked like a king about to dispel orders to his followers.

"I'm not sure," said Maitho.

"In that case, let's go back one month. You saved the life of Miss Jennifer Yansay, didn't you?" This man had way too much information. How could he know so much?

Maitho nodded. "I did."

"A wonderful person, wouldn't you say? Mother of two. Teacher. Hard worker. She has been there to show support for her children. Definitely someone worthy of a rescue."

Something about the way Cray described the woman gave the impression that there was more. "Definitely," said Maitho.

"But did you know about the fact that she is a rather good scam artist? An MLM member. Got a poor family of three into a lot of debt. Father was thrown in jail for trying to steal food for his family. Eventually, the mother took her own life. What do you say to that?"

Maitho felt an unease spread through him. He shifted in his seat, found the position uncomfortable and chose to lean on the table on this forearm. His mind wanted to call Cray's words a lie, but he knew that the old man was telling the truth. What's the point of lying after everything that has happened?

"Three months before that," Cray continued, "you saved the life of Benedict Sherman, a retired lawyer. But did you know that he went on to let a well-known criminal with two counts of manslaughter out on parole? The criminal then went on to take his revenge on the woman who reported him. Let's just say that she and her fourteen-year-old daughter won't be seeing their next birthday."

"What are you trying to say?" said Maitho. He felt his stomach churn. He gripped the seat tightly.

"I'm saying that you should know your true purpose."

"And what might that be?"

"That you are not chosen to save lives. You are chosen to carry out the plans of the Gods. And frankly, they don't care who lives or dies as long as they get what they want. You are not saving good people. You are saving important people."