Lance: Invitation

River Creek, Astron City, UAC

***

Lance floored the accelerator pedal with the bottle of vodka in the passenger seat. The engine conquered the highest revolution beyond its safe capacity. It swerved and cut traffic between a stream of city cars even though the streetlights were blurry.

He was looking for sudden death, to end this all. As the volume of city lights decreased, he was now beyond the grasp of the Capital city.

His car's engine was the only noise as he passed the sophisticated houses lined up the medium-classed subdivision. Their subdivision's street was lit faintly with distant street lights and with a slight number of trees planted in between them. River Creek was dark and gloomy during this time and the crescent moon was high, illuminating the area like a large fog lamp hanging above them.

Lazily, he parked the vehicle outside his house and disembarked almost to a crawl. Lance drank the remaining vodka in the bottle and threw it carelessly on the bushes beside the pathway. Even though he was dizzy and drunk, there was this weird feeling he felt that he was being watched, being followed, or being hunted.

He was not sure what but his instincts of a special ops military operative stood out. Five years of military service would enhance one's vigilance.

He went inside the house with slow and heavy steps. His wife was still awake and he heard her large footsteps against the wooden floor.

"Here we go," He cursed under his breath.

She wore long soft-clothed sleeping nighties behind the opened front door. The softness of the textile rest perfectly on the curvy body of his wife. Her hair was long and she had thin but lean features.

'Still stunning though,' Lance struck a smile.

Angela crossed her arms with a disappointed face. She was used to this scenery and grew tired of what they become. It was almost their routine and if not, Lance would lazily just sit on the couch watching Television draining out the productive life he had before.

She endured and sacrificed as much as Lance did after his active service. Angela wanted to consult a couple's therapist but the other was unwilling. It seemed, that his love for Angela faded but he never smeared their marriage of having mistresses or adulterous indulgence.

He was just blank all the time, his mind occupied, and could never be moved on to the horrors he had experienced. It was unfair for Angela, from anyone's perspective, but Lance seemed not to care.

"Lance, when will these nights end?!? You are always drunk when you got home. Tonight, you smell like a stripper," She said with a faint of hopelessness in her voice. The nag continued but all of her words went through the other ear of her husband.

Angela went on with her sermon and Lance slammed himself on their couch, slouching. His head held back staring at the ceiling while ignoring the almost unending complaints. She always brought up the issue of not having enough money to sustain their lifestyle and she was tired and bored of the results of their lives after Lance had retired from the force.

His monthly pension had not sufficed their middle-class lifestyle. He blamed her for being materialistic sometimes. Buying unnecessary things, availed instant gratifications, and beauty salons.

From her wife's perspective, she blamed him for procrastinating. Neglecting the talents that he could have used in the world beyond military service.

"Why not look for a carpentry job? I heard the other side of town was looking for an opening." She would say this statement before. She had repeated the same statement, or rather the same concept but from different work offerings until she grew tired. And all she threw at him were shameful blaming and nagging.

His replies would simply go like, "It is not the job for me." or something like, "Yeah, sure. Let me look at it." But he never did.

After a few minutes, Angela went upstairs without her husband uttering one word. It was not worth the fight as her husband was drunk and with the utmost indifference. She thought that her husband was having an affair.

As lance was sitting on the couch, he imagined the beautiful lady at the bar hugging him. She smelled so good and stared so seductively. But her last words stunned him and continued playing in his mind. He was trained to overthink situations like these and as he went on analyzing her last words, he suddenly deduced that he was targeted.

He hauled himself from the couch and went over his pockets to look for his personal belongings, his wallet, his swiss knife, and his cell phone. Luckily, he was not robbed.

He realized a folded paper in his left pocket and found that it was a Government sealed message. He was surprised to have slipped in his pocket unnoticed. Opening it gave a tingling feeling to his spine.

The letterhead above the message was from a Government agency but he did not recognize the logo. The logo was an abstract head of a black wolf with Latin wordings surrounding it, saying, "Primus Ego In Conspectu Dumos et Patria Protegat" (Protect country and family before self).

Then he went over to the message:

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(Highly Confidential)

Lt. Lance Davis,

You are called upon by your country. Our great nation needs your service.

Commander James Johnson needs you to be in his team, ASAP. We have your file and your records.

You are one of the bravest, greatest military operatives and top of your class. Your skillset is highly needed for a greater cause but life is hard as you know it. We have your financial problems and it destroyed your marriage. We are the solution should you choose to accept.

You will be compensated 10 times more than your current salary. I am confident that you will continue your patriotism by serving again your country.

Tomorrow at 1900 H, Warehouse 12, port 3, Astron City.

P.S.

Choose your decisions wisely. Think for your wife and yourself. Your country needs you.

Kate

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Lance sat down back to his couch thinking, internalizing, and cautiously deciding. He recognized the postscript and assumed that the lady in the bar was an undercover operative. He assumed her name was Kate.

He went to his basement and retrieved a black bag full of weapons. He pulled a Desert Eagle handgun and 2 magazines. He filled the magazines with ammo and pulled his favorite hunting knife.

His military instincts were triggered like clockwork. His senses suddenly rose beyond the vodka's capacity disorienting him. His eyes widen, his breathing was steady, his mind straighten but his heart was thumping hard against his chest. As if he could see his chest rising and falling alternately.

He must be cautious and armed in going to the meeting. Preparation was always the key as they were trained. He checked the locks of his house and surveyed through the windows as he might think that their lives were in danger and he was being monitored by the Government. Worst, by the rebel operatives.

'There is something out there watching. I sense it. I feel It. I am certain of it.' He thought. Gooseflesh loomed on his nape.

He watched a few minutes through their windows, in the front, and the back. He realized that their backyard was dark and the outdoor lights were turned off. He must turn it on, he assessed. As he ambled towards the backyard, he surveyed still the area right and left with his handgun pointed at the ground.

For a second, he focused his eyes on the large tree, Acacia. A vague and dark figure silhouette of a girl stood behind the tree trunk. He cocked his Dessert Eagle and clamped it hard ready to pull the trigger. He did not understand his feeling, was it a jolt of excitement or maybe fear of his imminent death?

The silhouette was motionless and still. He reached on the external switch for their backyard lightings.

'Just be ready. This is what I am feeling. Whoever you are, defend yourself or you will be dead.'

The backyard lights flickered for a few moments and lit up as Lance pushed the switch. Fortunately, there was no one there standing behind the tree. He had careful strides, glancing at every corner for a possible ambush. He found not a soul after his thorough search.

'I am just imagining things. Maybe it is the vodka.'

He thought. He went back inside and locked the door behind him. He went to his couch, slammed himself on the sofa cushions, and settled in for a good night's sleep. He placed his fully loaded Desert Eagle under his pillow, just in case.